Looking at someone else's clean, finished work. It's polite, it's quiet, but honestly? I miss the smell of wet earth and the mess on my apron.

The studio is freezing in the morning, so the first hour belongs to hot coffee and silence. If you talk before the mug is empty, we’re going to have a problem.

Research day. Looking for old geometry and shapes that actually matter. Most modern things just occupy space. Good art takes it over.

Precision is everything. Whether it’s a slab of marble or a morning breakfast. Keep your hands steady, or you’ll lose a finger.

Once a month, the dust washes off. One drink, a loud roof in Brooklyn, and then I go back to the clay. Don't get used to this version.

No filters, no loud declarations. Just 171 centimeters of bone and muscle ready to carry heavy blocks all week. If you’re looking for drama, you’re in the wrong studio.

Someone told me I look too serious when I work. I’m not. I just prefer talking to things that can’t talk back. Like wet stone.

Sitting on rocks that are much older and harder than my opinions. Respect. 🪨🌊

Washing off the dust from the week. The water is freezing, but honestly, it’s the only thing that actually wakes me up. 🌊🏛️

They told me the beach would help me clear my head. It didn’t. Still thinking about that unfinished torso in my studio. 🌊🏼

Took a break from the studio before I completely covered the entire neighborhood in clay dust. Brooklyn smells like rain and exhaust today. 🧳🌪️