I make hats.
I make hats, like masters of clay, sculpt. I pick up a skein of yarn, and it speaks to me. I don’t over think it. I let the colors mash themselves into masterpieces. I make hats.
I make hats for those people who love a splash of color against the Pacific Northwest sky. I make hats warm enough for a cold night in Vail. I make unique hats, no one else will have.
I make hats, with out patterns. I make hats by accident. I make hats with the same sincere carefree nature, that I do with my paintings, or my writing.
I make soft hats. Warm hats. Hats for any time of the year. I make hats because the head is a nice place for accessories, especially when they have a function… or two, or three.
Some of my hats can be worn more than one way, or serve more than one purpose. It depends on the hat. I only make one of a kind hats. No two will ever be exactly the same.
I make hats as a warm expression. A bold statement on a dreary day, or a compliment to a colorful sky; my hats speak to the uniqueness of the individual wearing it. My hats are pretty rad.