Drawings

I found my first Michael Wisner vessel in a small gallery on a busy street in Maui. My family and I were wandering the way you do on vacation—slowly, without intention, enjoying the small moments between shops and sunlight. I remember stepping inside to escape the noise, and how the room felt calm in a way the street didn’t. The vessel was sitting on a simple shelf. Rounded, steady, quietly present. I didn’t know why it held my attention, only that it did.

The pattern drew me in first—careful repetition wrapped around a soft, organic form. Straight lines bending into curves, meeting and parting in a rhythm that felt familiar to my eye. As a designer, I’ve always been drawn to the meeting point between precision and nature. This vessel made that meeting visible.

I didn’t yet know the story behind it—the clay dug from the mountains, the years of learning under master potters, the merging of traditional techniques with contemporary shapes. But even without the history, I could sense the patience in the work. The discipline. The hand.

I brought that first piece home, and over time, a few more joined it. They sit in different corners of my space now, quiet companions to the room. When I see them, I think of that day with my family—the warmth of it, the ease— and how something small and unexpected can shift something inside you.

Looking back, I think that moment planted a seed. Not just the desire to collect, but the idea of creating a place where objects like this could be found—pieces with stories, with intention, with a sense of origin. A space where others might feel the same quiet recognition I felt in that gallery.