When it fired in a Raku kiln, the paint burned off and left a light ghostly imprint on a dark background. People who have lost someone dear to them often see one of my urns in a gallery and they call me on the phone. By their descriptions, I can often help them find the urn they are looking for. People tell me they touch something deep. I have a cute place out here in Potter Valley with an extra big yard and a sweat lodge in back.
People come here for a monthly healing circle.
The front room is a showroom for work that is on its way to galleries. All this shows me that I can really have what I need by following my heart. The place where my heart has been is hollow My guts had fallen out. My hair burnt off. My flesh fell away.