We’re all trying to get to the root of things. What happened? Why did it happen? Where do I go from here? There’s no end to the answers out there; answers as weapons, answers as memes, answers as bribes, answers for sale. But if you’re lucky to live long enough, you start realizing that it’s not answers you really need. What you really need are companions who have faithfully and desperately lived out their own winding paths.

This is the sort of companion you meet in the art of Glen Martin Taylor.

He tells a familiar story about his beginnings as a self-taught artist: “I knew I was an artist by age thirteen and I also knew I didn’t like school. And by age fourteen I was spending all my time looking and reading art history books in the library and ignoring school. I had found my bliss.” But from there his story is anything but common—a career spanning decades and continents, with folks that love his work so much that they literally get it tattooed on their skin! To simply call him a ceramicist seems an understatement.

If you’ve seen Taylor’s work before, you’ll know that part of why he’s gained notoriety is his unique interpretation of kintsugi—the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold or silver. Of first tackling this technique he says: “I was going through a very ‘broken’ time in my life. I had read about kintsugi… and one hard day I just felt and knew what I had to try. And it was so healing and cathartic and it opened up my art and range of expression.”

He sources items from flea markets and estate sales that are connected to his childhood memories. And while the antique plates, rusted scissors, and baby shoes may be from his personal story, the viewer can’t help but reach back into their own family line to feel the overlap in all of our stories.

This self-directed therapy has taught him a lot about pain, resilience, and being human. “It’s hard to be a person, it’s a dilemma to be a human being, and just about everyone gets broken at some point. But I have found my way. And it has helped me survive the darkest days. And I am still here. Healing is hard work and sometimes ugly but so beautiful. And there is more in life on the other side of healing.”

Part of this “more” is the humor woven throughout his pieces. His hearty use of ‘fuck,’ his playful use of materials, or just his kintsugi-like use of words—it all reveals that the kid at heart is still alive and laughing.

“Humor was a sharp tool to survive my childhood and remains deep in my toolbox. I always found things ‘funny’ in my head but now, as I heal a wee bit, I have learned to laugh out loud the last three years. And instead of laughing at the painful absurdity of being a person, I am starting to smile and laugh at the joy of this curious life. It’s all a bit silly and when we remove the seriousness somedays, we can walk a bit lighter.”‍

Clearly, Taylor’s works are not a monolith. “[N]ot all my work is about brokenness and kintsugi. I am just like everyone else, a very layered and complex, (and confused) human being and all my art is a self-portrait on an entire human being.”

However, no matter what his works are about, they share a similar catalyst: “My intention is that every piece is a healing experience, a chance to fall into my deepest shadows and perhaps solve some internal dilemma.” As he solves them for himself, he invites us to do the same.

He leaves our readers with these final words: “I am in some way just an alchemist. I have taken all my suffering and turned it into art, and that has turned into healing, and that is now turning into happiness. I have gray hair now and it’s been a long road and a lot of hard work and tears and screams and looking into the scary mirror. I found there is something else on the other side of suffering.”

Visit Glen's Instagram @glenmartintaylor