The first time I walked into the ceramics studio at college in the early 1960s, I fell in love with the clay. A few years later I attended a show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, of Pre-Columbian Central American art that included some riotously uninhibited, unabashedly animated pottery and whistles. I became enlivened by the soulfulness of this work.
Today, I find it rewarding that virtually everyone that I observe confronting my whistles finds something engaging with an innately playful, perhaps hidden part of themselves. This has allowed me an opportunity for much personal interplay with the world at large while at the same time affording me the chance for meditative and contemplative work with the clay that I love.