I have a small (but growing) collection of photographs of my work table after having guests to the studio. Invariably when someone visits, pieces get pulled and grouped and rearranged. I like to document what's on the table when the visit ends. Each visitor picks different pieces off the shelves, makes unique groupings—drawing parallels between objects that often I would not have seen. From a single photo I can trace the history of the conversation—shape, size, function, art, architecture, community, and food. I've posted many of these photos on Instagram already, but it's interesting to look at them as a group.
You would think that if you had 10 people each looking for a teacup the conversation and the parameters around their selections would be the same, or at least very similar. But over the course of these studio visits, it's been enlightening to realize how big a role my relationship to the visitors and their relationship to my ceramics (if they had seen it before, owned pieces, for how long, etc...) has made a difference in both our conversations and their response to my work. And it turn, it's been interesting to see how those same connections have influenced the direction and forms of my practice—the continuing dialogue between the maker and those for whom the maker makes.