Cocido is Spanish for cooked, baked, or fired. From soft and malleable earth to something lasting, each piece is transformed by fire. A name that honors the transformative qualities of heat, both in the kiln and in the kitchen, and a nod to my Puerto Rican roots and the warmth of the island and its people.

I work exclusively through handbuilding, combining glazes and underglazes to arrive at forms that feel worn-in and a little strange. Wonky cups. Sculptural vases. Small animals that seem to belong to someone before they are even finished.

My practice lives at the intersection of sculpture and function. A vase that doubles as a water pitcher. A cup that anchors a morning. Objects made to support the rituals and rhythms of daily life, each bearing the indent of my fingers in the fired clay.

The work is intimate by design. I make things for people who recognize them immediately. Who see their mother or their childhood dog and understand, without being told, that this one is theirs.

St. Petersburg has shaped me as much as the clay has. Most of my pieces have found their homes through local markets, passed directly from my hands to the people who will live with them. Now I'm expanding into local shops as well, including Coastal House Vintage, bringing the work to new corners of a city that has given me so much.

None of this would exist the way it does without my husband, Josh. He has been there from the beginning, showing up at every market, helping me set up, and believing in the work before it had an audience. He is the quiet backbone of everything that happens outside the studio.