Our experience of time is much like water; constantly shifting and changing. Sitting on the floor crossed legged for hours at a time, I would pound out little pieces of clay and then fold them into the palm of my hand. These folds are made from various porcelain clay bodies, each with a slightly different hue. The memory of the clay reveals the lines from my hand and records the making of each intimate piece. The folds became a driving force, the pieces themselves began making me; the quiet hours spent folding clay in the studio lead me to a meditative peace. Countless hours would pass and the folds would accumulate. After firing the pieces, I sort them by size and by clay body and put them into boxes. For a year and a half I continued this process. I can’t say there was a solid plan of what these pieces were going to do when installed but after being so intimate with each of them I learned what they wanted to do. The intuitive, natural rhythm of my body knowing the pieces and careful attention as to how they fit together leads to a rhythmic process. Thousands of folds of clay are individually placed into a temporary configuration. Consideration goes into the height, the hue and the form as each piece is hand placed. I am able to transform the space piece by piece with the hopes of capturing a moment in time. I’m interested in how both objects large and small can create experiences that are special, beautiful and intimate. The modular objects capture the memory of the past with my palm print but they can be reconfigured endlessly for an new experience. The entire process is a way of seeking inner peace and being in the present moment. As moments don’t last forever, when I need to uninstall I take the pieces one by one and separate them back into their boxes, according to their size and hue. Although they are all boxed away, the memory of the manifestation still exists.