A woman turns, her arms flung high, her body twisting in the movement of the dance. She is vulnerable, naked to the light, and energized. She seems to move with the power of the moment, and yet she does not move at all. She is frozen in time, a sculpture made of the brown earth and exposed to great heat in the kiln. The fluidity of her form, the soft curves sweeping from elbow to hip and down to the knee, contrasts with her stillness. She is dynamic and, at the same time, still. I am deeply familiar with her form, she is me and my creation, she is prayer and meditation, she is a process and a product, and the inspiration for her earthly being came to me in worship.

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