As seasons flow from one to another, the clay continues to be shaped, formed and given life. The paint flows effortlessly from vessel to vessel. Slowly and methodically the ideas of passion, apprenticeship, and patience takes root with each new creation. The winding dusty dirt road passes underneath my feet---the road navigates through an ancient Indian village surrounded by adobe homes and swirling dust blowing in the Isletan sun. Elements of my native heritage and traditions accompany me as the trail opens to a sun clay baked plaza. My heart pauses as I stand at the edge of the plaza and in the foreground the timeless tribal ceremonies play in and out of my imagination. A deafening religious chant slowly rises and fills the plaza, then dissipates with the emergence of dancing bells and a drumbeat echoing out of time. Village dancers and the quiet onlookers of the Tewa speaking people begin to fill the isolated plaza. An antiquated adobe edifice, the church of Saint Augustine stands, erect, white in the background, a symbol of the Isletan struggle between their religion and the orthodoxy of the new world. These are the humble roots and origins that has led and inspired me to pursue my artistic and creative journey in the ceramic arts.