Assembly

Nobody arrives finished. You are assembled — one experience at a time, from childhood forward, each one joined to the last until the shape of you is something no single part accounts for. Assembly is built the same way.

Each form is pressed, hollowed and left to stiffen, then scored, slipped and joined to the next — a grid built up row by row until it stands on its own. The face arrives later. Nothing about a stack of spheres suggests one, until the features go on and then it is impossible to see anything else. That turn is the piece.

Each form carries a number, and a number can be made more than once — never in the same glaze combination. Assembly 01 exists twice: in a crystal glaze, a gloss base carrying chips of glass frit that bloom open in the fire and run down the form, and in white underglaze flicked over a cobalt glaze. Assembly 02 is the second form — taller, with brows and filled lenses — in a yellow glaze, its features in purple underglaze under clear.