Who could have predicted that tidying the work table could serve as a source of inspiration that dramatically changed my approach to clay and ceramic expression? Yet five years ago, while collecting the loose colored clay from the table, I was astounded by the formations and structures that emerged in the powder as it collected on the edge of the table and fell into mounds of clay in the box.

My first thought was, would it be possible to work with clay powder and to harden it without loosing the light and spontaneous expression of this clay powder in its natural state?

At last, a year later, after intensive experimentation, I discovered that it is possible with all types of clay over a range of temperatures. My pieces can be fired repetitively, adding a new layer of powder clay each time, and the clay can be lifted off a mold after firing. Last but not the least, before firing, the powder clay responds spontaneously to any kind of movement. Interestingly, even wind and rain intervened as I carried the pieces outside on my way to the kiln. Since I am fascinated by the transient expression and patterns the natural forces create, it is very inspiring when nature itself thus participates in the creative process.

Dust to dust, and dust to matter. The smallest particles of clay reveal some of the mysteries of time. The moment between past and future is fluid, dialectic and unrecognizable. Cold and warm, dry and wet; it is all about eternal dynamics. Some are observable, like wind, fire, water, sand and snow – or the mayflies buzzing through breathtakingly short lives. Others are less visible, such as the static rocks that change constantly at their own slow pace and in irresistible ways. 

This is my image of the temporal mystery that encapsulates us all, fragile moments hung up in nature´s galleries, made solid and frozen.