When looking at pots, we often focus on their outer form. Yet what truly defines the form is not the contour, but the space within—the emptiness that gives it meaning and purpose. The formless is often overlooked, yet it is the formless that enables function. A building can only be inhabited because of the emptiness within its structure. A tree can be cut down and made into solid furniture, but if left untouched, it can offer shade and clean air for generations. Likewise, a pot is useful because of its hollow interior—it is the void that allows it to hold.

To infuse intention—a thought, a spirit—into that emptiness before and during the making of a jar is to give it soul. Its form becomes a vessel not just for matter, but for meaning. The heritage of my homeland, woven from Native Taiwanese, Japanese, and Chinese influences, further imbues each piece with texture and color, shaping not only the clay, but the story it carries.