I believe that “art” is a verb as well as a noun. Too often our culture focuses on the result of an artist’s labors — the finished canvas, the fired pot, the published poem —while giving short shrift to the process that led to it. What comes before — the noticing, imagining, experimenting, executing, and revising — are the most salient manifestations of the creative impulse, and where I find my joy. When I sell a piece, I want the collector to have a sense of what went into the work: the inspiration, the prep, the decisions I made along the way. In turn, I need to know what attracted them to my piece, the story it told them, the meaning it holds. Likewise, when I teach, I ask my students to focus on, find freedom in, and feel satisfaction from the process of making art, rather than be overly concerned on outcome. Yes, I ask a lot. But I believe that experiencing the thrill of the creative process is more valuable and soul-sustaining than any finished piece can be. My own work reflects a fascination with process. I am continually trying out new materials and methods, experimenting with and exploring different modes of artistic expression. I may be painting with oils one month, building a mosaic sculpture the next, pinching pots the third. As I become enamored with new forms of art-making, I take deep dives into them, learning, collecting, and often mixing and matching them. I have been accused of “chasing shiny objects,” but I will take that as a compliment. Experimentation and exploration will always be cornerstones of my creative life. Am I fickle when it comes to inspiration? The natural world speaks deeply to me. Too long in the studio and I am itching to hike a mountain or forage botanicals. Soon those mountains and botanicals find their way into my art. At the same time, I am an incorrigibly social animal, and thrive on the energy that comes from relationships. These, too, work their way into my art via the vivid emotions they engender. All of this blending, as both a verb and a noun.