About the artist

I grew up in Finland, where winter teaches you to wait. Now I live on a farm on the Kerry coast, and the waiting is different: for the kiln to cool, for the tide to bring what it brings.

I build by hand. Slabs, coils, thumb and knuckle. The work is fired in saggars and open pits with what the land gives: kelp from the strand, ash from the kitchen, salt, ochre, milk from our own cows. Nothing is glazed into silence. Every surface keeps a record of its fire.

I make the sculptures I need to make. Some carry grief. Some carry its opposite. I don’t decide which is which. The clay does.