While meditating on the nature of coil pots, building them up, pausing to let the clay harden and strengthen before you continue to avoid collapse. It clearly appeared to me as a metaphor for my current experience as parent in the pandemic.

Mothers (and people) we are constantly asked to take on more, without taking a pause or time to strengthen or support our foundation. We often break and buckle under the weight of the constant influx of responsibilities and challenges. Even when barely balanced we are forced to take on more, while holding up so much. The reverberation of that collapse (subtle or devastating) radiates through our spirit, homes, families, community and globe.

I began building pots with this rymthm in mind. Without the pause. And let the piece buckle organically under their own weight. Each pot, it’s own story of strength and breaking.

At which point they are fired. Vitrafied. Given new strength and new fragility. Each one is a story memorialized. A warning. A call for help.