His heart is clearly with the abstract work, which he sees as a rebellion against his training as a potter. He wants his pieces to transcend expectation, inspiring people to think there's no way a human could have made it.
And he really loves it when he reacts that way to his own work. Some nights when the day is over and his four-year-old son is asleep, he goes back to the studio behind his house, looks at the day's work and thinks, "Man, did I make that?"
Doing work that surprises him begins with knowing his skills and his medium. He says he has found his voice as an artist only in the last five years.
"Now it's time to see what you're made of and let your imagination go," he says. "That's what I've been doing. The work just keeps evolving."
Every day in his studio he asks, "How can I take my idea a step further to where it's almost like a treasure map that you cannot follow?”
And it doesn't work every time.
"Sometimes I catch glimpses of it, and sometimes I get codependent on what I used to know," he says. "It's just being brave, fearless. It's like a damn drug. If I could buy it, I would be broke. To me, it’s very addictive."