Clay always wins. This is the lesson I learnt from countless hours of hand-building and throwing at the wheel. Even if I am able to will it into a desired shape, clay still wins because the combination of its particulate composition, water content and temperature dictates how it can hold that form. Add to it the infinite variables of firing and glazes, and the results become practically a divine intervention.

This sharp contrast I see between architecture and pottery propels me to test the line between controlled and uncontrollable, between constructed and natural, and between functional and “non-functional”. I see each project as an experiment in this hopefully never-ending exploration.

My studies in engineering and practice in architecture taught me that science is exact, that every detail needs to be designed, drawn and built to specification, so relinquishing control to a loose, earthy material -- and to fate -- is extremely frustrating. Yet, as pottery has evolved from a hobby of curiosity to almost an obsession, I find this precise loss of control refreshingly liberating, even rewarding. And though I embrace this medium in its own right and relish to see how far it pulls me away from my preconceptions, I know my professional sensibilities nevertheless inform my approach and permeate every piece I make.