Have you ever had a customer ask for a completely abstract craft sculpture, and how did you approach that?

Yes, I have. One of the most exhilarating requests I ever received was for a completely abstract craft sculpture. The client said, "I want something that feels like the memory of a storm, but in a warm, hopeful color." No sketches, no reference images—just a feeling. At first, it was daunting. How do you translate "the memory of a storm" into form and texture? I approached it not as a problem to solve, but as a conversation to begin.

First, I sat down with the client and asked them to describe the emotion they wanted the piece to evoke in a room. We talked about music, weather, and even their favorite childhood blanket. I jotted down keywords: swirling, porous, amber, grounded, uplifting. Then, I retreated to my studio. I began not with a plan, but with play. I took a lump of stoneware clay—a forgiving, tactile material—and let my hands respond to the keywords. I pressed and pulled, creating a rising, organic spiral that felt both chaotic and peaceful. I dried it rough, letting cracks form naturally, then fired and glazed it in a layered, translucent amber with flecks of deep blue.

When I presented the maquette (a small model), I was nervous. But the client’s eyes lit up. "That’s it," they whispered. "That’s exactly the feeling." The key was trusting the process and letting the client’s abstract emotion guide my hands, not my head. Abstract sculpture is less about representing an object and more about capturing a vibration—and that requires both deep listening and fearless play.