There's a moment on almost every hike when something on the ground stops me mid-step. A twisted, weathered branch. A sun-bleached piece worn smooth by monsoon runoff. A gnarled fork of desert wood that looks like it's been sitting in the wash for years. I pick it up, turn it over in my hands, and I already know: this is going into the studio.

Despite the 110+ degree summer heat here in Phoenix, my studio has been buzzing with energy, ideas, and clay-covered hands. What began as a simple experiment with four wheel-thrown, donut-shaped forms quickly turned into a deeper exploration of shape, meaning, and story.