All of my work is based on the idea that glass is a rarefied and special medium that deserves exceptional attention. My process is intense, physical, and time-consuming. Though I love to experiment and push boundaries, my tools and techniques are essentially the same ones used thousands of years ago. For me, there is no other way. The history of glassblowing, that sense of the true touch of the hand, is the heart and soul of every object I make. I could use industrial processes and be more efficient, produce perfectly uniform pieces, but that has never been the point for me.
After all these years, I am still spellbound and mystified by the chameleon-like quality of crystal, still trying to crack the code of all that it does. Maybe I never will, or at least not fully. And so I still get excited every time I walk into the shop. The craft of making these pieces is staggeringly challenging. It is controlled chaos, a constant push and pull of diametrically opposed forces. One moment I'm literally playing with fire to shape the hot molten material, which the next moment is cooling and turning solid. I sigh into the glass to create a form as delicate as a breath of air, while at other times struggle under the weight of a heavy block on the end of the blowpipe. All of that energy, drama, and unpredictability is evoked in the beauty of the finished piece. Though it may look pristine and calm, it bears the sweat that seared its surface, the tool marks from calipering, and the touch of ash from the newspaper I held to shape it. To me, these traces are what "handmade" really means. Each one of my objects is unique, yet as a set they feel related, like brothers and sisters.