Rebecca Harvey

I don’t often enter the studio with a set idea, I don’t preplan or think too much about what I will do each morning. We have the best kind of standing meeting, the studio and I. I don’t have to prepare anything; I just need to show up and be curious. I’ll pick up a ball of clay, squish it around in my hands, and start a conversation. Sometimes it is about one thing, sometimes it is about another. Winters stretch long here with short sharp days and nights that roll cold. In the early warmth of my studio, strange little faces show up beneath my fingers. Tactile and brightly colored they seem to have arrived to keep me company through the frost.


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