The phrase  "River Valley" brims with significance for me. Having spent most of my life in fertile valleys fed by mighty rivers--first the Ohio where I grew up, and for the past 14 years the Hudson--I consider them family.

So much so, that in 1999 when I adopted a 4 1/2 year old border collie-shepherd-yellow lab mix from the NYC Humane Society I named her Hudson River Valley (Hudson for short), a name I'd chosen before getting to know her, and which quickly proved ironic.

I learned on our very first outing that she didn't like water at all, and definitely not the river I'd named her for. While other dogs frolicked fearlessly and fetched in nearby depths, she stood in the sand at its edge looking up at me with doleful brown eyes as if to ask, "What do you want from me?"

You see, not only had she been at the shelter where I found her for 2 1/2 years, living in a basement cage on a cement floor and with only 1 hour of outside time per day, but her history even before the Humane Society*  was far from idyllic--a series of unfit people-parents and abuse, that by the time she reached my life, had rendered her emotionally fragile.

Over our years together I tried other rivers, lakes, creeks, and an ocean, but I never saw Hudson in water that inched beyond the silky-soft of her nearly-hairless belly. Thankfully she had long skinny legs to keep her sagging tummy aloft in shallow depths so she could keep a close eye on me while I swam further out. Hudson preferred to be at home right by her people all the the time.

After a long bout with cushing's disease, and finally cancer, she died in my arms in January of 2007.

The business name is a gesture to keep Hudson's memory alive and also a way to honor the natural places that have nourished and inspired me throughout my life.

A portion of every sale will be given to NYC's Humane Society and to River Keeper in Hudson's name.

*Please note: The Humane Society does the absolute best they can with the funds they have, and the people who work there LOVE animals in general and the ones they house and care for, deeply. I'm not knocking them, shelters are just a bad situation, especially for long-term residents like Hudson was.

Jewelry:

It's largely the beads and materials that inspire me to create jewelry. Their shapes, colors, textures, feel, and histories tell me how to assemble them into wearable art that's earthy and elegant simultaneously, and stylish without being too trendy.

To me the best art and crafts are made spontaneously, reflecting the artist unhindered by self-consciousness--so you feel a connection to the person when you touch or wear their creations. To facilitate this process I shop endlessly for the most unique and high-quality gemstone and pearl beads and metal accents so there is an ever-fresh and enticing palette at hand for me to compose from.

And because I  believe in the importance of symbols and traditions, and connecting to what each of us personally finds holy and meaningful in life, I frequently employ religious and spiritual talismans, and folkloric charms and emblems from an array of Eastern and Western traditions and practices--including pantheism, yoga, Buddhism, Judaism, Kabbalah and Mussar, Islam and Sufism, astrology, Hinduism, different Native American, Australian and African religions, and mystical Christianity.

Pottery:

In nearly everything I do for pleasure and passion, and certainly with pottery, it's the process that attracts me. I fell in love with clay early on, before I'd ever touched more than Playdough. I remember clearly the first pot I bought while still in high school and visiting a local crafts fair. It was a white porcelain bowl thrown to very thin and glazed with a satin navy blue and accent of mossy green that mixed with it and broke deliciously in the ridges under its lip. But more than its look, I loved its feel in my hands, its swollen, belly-like sides, sanded-soft foot, how it calmed me like petting my family dog did, and how when I ran my fingers around the rim I could tell it was pulled slightly off circle enabling me to "see" the potter forming the wet plastic material and feel his hands even in the fired, stone-like clay.

Clay's inherent qualities dictate how it can be worked.  Pinching it and hand building with slabs and coils as I do forces me to slow down to its organic speed, the inching rhythm of nature. It's largely this quality of clay that works on me, takes me out of the frenzied and unnatural pace of contemporary life, out of my head, into my body, and heals me. And it's this that I hope my finished pieces do for their buyers--bring a bit of comfort and healing from the everyday sorrows and injuries that life doles out plentifully.

I consider myself very fortunate to be able to spend my days at work I enjoy so much it feels like play.

*I'm also a passionate eco-preneur.