For most of my life, I believed the creative gene had "skipped" me. I watched others make beautiful art and assumed I was meant to appreciate, not create. But when the world shut down in 2020 and I needed something to do, I bought a 5lb block of clay. At 32, with no artistic background and no clue what I was doing, I just started playing with mud. That decision changed everything.

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Pottery 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 from mud to stone 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 of questionable integrity. 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. It's 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 work in their hands.

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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.

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Thank you for being here!​