THE BUILDER & THE ARTIFACT
For most of my life, I rejected the title of “Artist.” I am a Builder. I work in high-end construction management in New York City. To me, “Builder” was a title of honor; “Artist” felt like a step down.
I didn’t enter a pottery studio to make art. I walked into Greenwich House Pottery to learn how to make molds for utility tiles for a house I am building with my father in Minnesota. But the mechanics of the mold—the engineering of the negative space—ignited something. I leaned into my construction experience, developing complex, 1,000-piece slipcasting systems that pushed the material beyond simple function.
My work has evolved from that reluctance. It is no longer functional in the domestic sense; it is functional in the spiritual sense.
During a pilgrimage to India with my Buddhist teacher, I experienced a profound sense of timelessness—a vision of practitioners past, present, and future occupying the same space. I chase that feeling in my studio. I am trying to build objects that feel like they have existed for thousands of years: devotional artifacts that have been used, altered, and eroded by centuries of hands.
These structures are Ancient-Future. They are not sci-fi; they are timeless. They are porcelain echoes of a lineage, engineered with the precision of a skyscraper but imbued with the silence of a shrine room.
Follow the process on Instagram: @andygravesstructures