Tree Star Mudworks was born out of chaos—an anchor in a world turned upside down.

For most of my life, I believed the creative gene had "skipped" me. I watched others make beauty and assumed that wasn't for me. But when the world shut down in 2020, something opened up inside me. At 32, with no artistic background and no clue what I was doing, I got my hands dirty in clay for the first time. That decision changed everything.

Ceramics has taught me about surrender. It's not instant. It’s messy. It’s kind of a gamble. Some days it feels like preschool arts and crafts, and other days it feels like alchemy. But every stage—the wedging, the throwing, the waiting, the surprise of glaze—reminds me that unpredictability isn’t failure. It’s part of the magic.

Along the way, I’ve survived trial and error, a small army of cracked pots, and a vintage kiln with a death wish. But I’ve also made art that tells stories. Pieces that spark joy, quiet reflection, and a sense of belonging. And in every bowl, mug, or vase is a message to my younger self: you can create beauty. You do matter.

The name Tree Star Mudworks comes from a sacred corner of my childhood—the “tree star” from the millennial cinematic masterpiece The Land Before Time, a symbol of gentleness, hope, and perseverance in a rough world. That film, with its unlikely friendships and emotional depth, brought me light as a child. Still does, to this day. Through this work, I try to offer that light back—to myself, and to anyone who holds my pieces.

My dream is to keep making functional art that people actually use and love—and to slowly stretch into sculpture, storytelling, and connection through clay. I believe there’s a place in the world for softness, for small joys, and for objects that make us feel something real.

Thank you for being here!

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