I found these river rocks and others while visiting my cousin in June with my dog, Sharky. My cousin lives on the north side of the Rogue River down in Southern Oregon and we had the best time visiting him. In the evenings, while Sharky ran up and down the riverbank, I walked along the edges with a bag slung over my shoulder gathering the roundest rocks that I could find.

There is something soothing about holding a river rock in your hand; a rock you know has had its edges softened through centuries of caresses from the water that ran over it.

I don't know yet what I'll do with the rocks, but an idea will come when it's ready.

What do you do when you first walk into the studio? Do you have a ritual that brings your mind into focus? For me it's putting on my apron.  My apron frees me from the tidiness and control of order and allows me to shift into a deeper engagement with the materials at hand. Putting on my apron ignites the anticipation of getting my hands covered in mud or paint or grease or glue or whatever it is I'm working with in the moment. It is a garment whose function not only gives permission to make beautiful messy mistakes, but encourages them as a deeper way of being present in the world.