What does crossing your fingers mean? I found the answer observing the stretch marks of slumped glass. I found it in the rust patterns of paper drying on metal wires. I heard it when the wires made a soft clanging sound. I felt it in the textures of sand captured by cast glass. I dreamed about it while thinking about a grandmother I miss. And I experienced it while fighting to breathe as my body gave out. I recorded the body memories and the edges. I unearthed artifacts from the kiln. I listened to the material and allowed it to guide me. I captured the moment I let go of control. I learned to let things simmer and let all the flavors come out. When someone told me to find my limits, I found them while crossing my fingers.
