Hey Doc I’m surrounded by my own pots. All my friends are in the closet. I put them away to make room for me in the living room. I jumped out of bed this morning in a panic that my friends were imprisoned and that they couldn’t breathe. I opened the closet doors, made a coffee, pulled up a chair and sat beside them in a sleepy state. I apologized profusely and assured them their prison sentence would soon be over. Doc criticised me for never using my own work and loving the company of all my pottery friends instead. He said I needed to practice more self love. Holy shit everywhere I turn in my room I’m staring back at myself and talking to myself. I must admit though there are some really frickin’ nice pots in the room. It has been a year of travel and transition. I have pots with vinyl resist, brush work, gnar gnar, thick slip application, puncheong stamping, hand built pots, loose pots, tightly thrown pots, crazy handled pots, wood fired pots, gas fired pots and now I got the da blues. What I feel best about is that they are me at a certain time, then I changed and they changed. They are me!. Much love to all the makers past, present and future. U are my world! I live in my own world but they know me here!