Rocks of Yanggu
This June, I got invited to be a part of the Harmony festival in South Korea. It was my first-ever artist residency, and honestly, it was exactly what I needed. Doing a residency has been on my wish list for years, but you know how it goes—when you're running a studio and juggling deadlines, the things that truly matter often get pushed to the back burner.
The first half of this year was.…a lot. I won’t get into the details just yet, but it tested me in more ways than one. At one point, I even joked with friends, “I think I’m ready to retire.” And then, as if the universe heard me, this opportunity showed up.
I said yes—without overthinking it. And thank god I did!
Meeting and working alongside artists from all over the world—many in their 50s, 60s, 70s, even 80s—was beyond inspiring. Seeing them create with such passion and energy lit a spark in me. Just two days in, I messaged those friends saying, “I want to be working in my 80s too.”
Slowly, the part of me that loves ceramics, that loves creating, started finding its way back. Being away from my own studio gave me space to simply create, without the weight of admin, emails, or production. I didn’t even realize how much I’d been missing that.
The drive from the airport to Goesan (where we spent the first week) was about 3 hours. Then another 3 hours took us to Yanggu, where we focused on making our own work. Along the way, something kept catching my eye—rocks.
Yes, rocks!
Massive stones arranged beautifully at roundabouts, entrances, and even tucked away at the roadside. Stacked like sculptures, full of form and texture. You know how much I love abstract forms and textures, right?
So when I started working with clay, those rocks stayed with me. Their presence, their weight, their stillness—and slowly, they started to shape what I was making.
And now, I get to share that with you.
Presenting: Rocks of Yanggu
A new series born out of stillness, texture, and inspiration.
These pieces are currently unfired and will be fired in the Harmony kiln next year. But I’m already dreaming of creating a second version here in the studio. I don’t know what it’ll look like yet, but I’m excited to find out.
Creating something is always a vulnerable act. Sharing it is even more so. No matter how many times you do it, it never gets easier. The more something means to you, the scarier it is to send it out into the world.
So here I am—hitting publish before this one ends up in my drafts again. And I'd love to hear from you.
Thank you for being here, I appreciate you.
