When a piece decides what It wants to become

Most people think the artist is always in control.

But honestly? My work reaches a point where it starts making the decisions.

I begin every piece with an idea—an emotion, a shape, a direction. Sometimes I sculpt small leather forms and build them into a larger composition. Other times, the natural patterns in the leather become the entire foundation. But no matter how I start, there’s always a moment when the piece surprises me.

A line doesn’t feel right anymore.
A color that worked in my mind suddenly doesn’t belong.
A texture demands more attention.

And I’ve learned something important:
The artwork is usually right.

Leather carries its own history—marks, tones, and patterns shaped by time. When I listen to what it’s asking for, the piece becomes much more honest and interesting than if I tried to force my plan.

People often ask me how I know a piece is finished.
The truth is simple:

It’s finished when the conversation stops.
When the material and I finally agree on what the story should be.

If there’s anything I hope you take away from this, it’s this:
Creation isn’t about control.
It’s about listening—whether you’re making art or making decisions in life.