In August 2008, I worked with people in New Orleans for three weeks at Louisiana Artworks. My collaborators brought objects from their homes - monumental and miniscule, broken and whole, things that had weathered Hurricane Katrina.

We worked with raw clay and fired ceramics as our connective tissue. Through writing and hands-on making, people shared stories of vulnerability and force, trauma and survival.

Wheel-thrown cups burrow into earthenware webs, stoneware strips blindfold a slip-cast shepherdess.

Here, a porcelain pirate. There, the shards of shipwreck. Forms are uncertain - ungrounded and precarious.

The work is nomadic. For six years it roamed from gallery to gallery, from storage shed to university classroom.

From Vancouver to Toronto to Calgary to Surrey to Pullman to New Orleans it has grown new parts, drawn new blood, become the work of many hands.

Bits crack off and sections are unbuilt and rebuilt at every turn. Hand-rolled and fired coils tremble and flex in their moving trucks. The pieces are uncrated, pulled out in unfamiliar light.

Objects are dissected, reshaped, renamed, retold.

Snapped apart with nervous fingers, reattached with paste and glaze and wet clay, in New Orleans the process continues.

After the exhibition came down in October, Salvage dispersed to sixteen different collaborators' homes. Yoojeung Park re-shaped this fragment which includes one of Gerit Grimm's wheel-thrown dolls.

Every now and then, people send me images of pieces re-invented in their studios and homes. This earthenware form is in Anastasia Pelias' garden.

This piece is in Stephen Collier's house.