Ocean Floor

There is a particular quality of light that exists only underwater, where color dissolves slowly from the depths and greens pool in the hollows of stone. This dish began with that light. Leaves were pressed directly into wet clay before it stiffened, leaving ghost-like traceries of veins across the basin, then blue and green oxides were layered and allowed to bleed into one another in the kiln. The starfish and shells were formed separately, their own textures preserved through a lighter wash of glaze, and placed at the center as quiet occupants of a tide pool at low water. Nothing here is arranged for drama. The composition holds the calm of a found thing, a glimpse of the sea floor before the tide returns. Shirin's practice often begins with the natural world as a mold, a collaborator, a record-keeper. In this piece, the leaf becomes seaweed, the glaze becomes the water column, and the ruffled rim becomes the edge where land ends and depth begins.