Orbs

Artist’s note

I make orbs as small worlds. Some are sea born in spirit. Clear ripples and soft greens hold the feeling of tide pools at low water. Inside, a small glint invites you to look again. No two orbs are alike. The kiln has its say and I welcome that surprise.

SMALL WORLDS, HELD IN TWO HANDS

I make orbs the way tide pools hold a morning—quiet, complete, alive when you lean close. Some carry sea-glass greens, some keep a thin glow of gold deep inside. No two are twins. The kiln adds its opinion; I keep the surprise.

WHAT YOU’LL NOTICE LATER

A fine seam where two decisions met. A glint that appears only in certain weather. The way a calm color steadies your breath without asking for attention.

WHERE AN ORB BELONGS

Kitchen sill at sunrise, bookcase beside your favorite chair, a desk that needs a soft pause. Tip an orb in your hand and you’ll catch the little spark that isn’t visible from across the room.