Adapt, change, grow has been a practice for as long as people have existed. Yet now, the speed at which cultural shifts happen is staggering. As we all communicate and travel so quickly and easily, absorbing and discarding ideas and cultural traits at will, we can find ourselves with more shared culture and foundation for contact with a Manga fan living in Japan or a Dr. Who enthusiast in Brussels than with the person living next door. Community is culture. Culture is shared. Culture is no longer bound by blood or geographic location but by affinity. In a world that is the product of centuries of colonization, unrestricted appropriation and outright theft, how can the colonized maintain uniqueness while not being left out of the greater world culture? As globalization’s homogenization of culture continues, can we retain our hold on our cultures and be relevant contributors to the ever increasing monotony of global identity? Should we even want to?
My practice has always been heavily influenced my interest in traditional cultures. While much ceramic dialogue has referenced design of Europe and Asia, I have been drawn to the ceramic works of Africa and the Americas. Recently, I weaponized water containers. I explored the lengths we, as a people will go to possess water. Even to the point of rendering the water inaccessible and useless to anyone. Ownership and ability to arrest access becoming more important than the truly vital nature of the contents. The precarious balance of violent weaponized forms with the delicacy of surface of a highly burnished pot reinforced the contrary and destructive nature of our current relationship with water and our other finite resources.