the figures i admire most carry silence. there is a meditative quality to them which reminds me of religious works without the weight of religion. the figure is composed, still, and the surface holds the feeling. the work does not declare itself.

i go on walks sometimes, but not the kind that need shoes. i move through a space in my mind where no one notices me and no one needs to. the figures i encounter there exist without fear or shame. they are simply themselves, completely, without performance or apology.

i opened the first bag of clay and felt the work return to my hands. the smell was earthy, the weight grounding, the surface pressing back and leaving its marks. arkard began as a vessel built over a salad bowl, then a broken figure, and later a lesson in…