“…from the Kindergartener’s elephant pinched in white earth, fired in glost sateen, beloved of an artisan Mother heroine…along the fervor of pit-fired sawdust, at 13 staving-off elusive academics as the earth itself smoldered to reveal the concrete…, through dreams of Vulcan hammering an identity out of work in Cornwall 35 years ago where legends had pointed toward weigh…, glancing far off the gallery life of Washington as clay darlings vied for portent…, to digging in the Crum Creek mud back home with the Clay Buddy, making it chunky and my own once again, re-acquiring that which I never really had…, should you more need words, there is work to behold…”