About

I make plates and servers.

Not because they're easy... they're not... but because they matter. Plates take up space while they're being made, they're prone to warping, and they demand consistency. You don't make one plate. You make many, knowing not all of them will survive.

That difficulty is part of the appeal.

Plates are the objects we return to every day. Breakfast, dinner, shared meals, celebrations, quiet meals alone. They break sometimes. They're handled without ceremony and remembered without effort. They're important because food is important.

I'm interested in that kind of permanence.

Making is tied to family for me. My grandfather was a jeweler and watchmaker... a craftsman and artist who worked with patience and precision. I learned how to make things by watching him work and by working alongside him in his shop. I learned how to use tools, how to solve problems, and how to find joy in the process of making.

That way of working stayed with me.

I'm drawn to simple forms, subtle variation, and the slow accumulation of understanding that comes from repetition.

I work primarily on the wheel, focusing on plates and serving pieces, made in small batches and fired with care.

Ginkgo Leaf is named for my grandmother, who had a lifelong fascination with the ginkgo tree... its shape, its age, the way it persists. They lined the streets of her neighborhood in New York City. She would often bring home leaves she found on her walks, pressing them in books, keeping them as mementos, and giving them to friennds and family. The leaf stayed with her.

The name is my small way to carry her forward and keep her with me.