This bowl and mug are my daily studio companions. Most of my studio lunches are eaten out of this simple green bowl, and this little white mug is generally full of coffee, tea, or apple cider at this time of year. These pots were chosen, in part, because they weren't. They became my pots because they were "leftovers," passed over after a series of sales; less elegant, less eye-popping than their brothers and sisters. They are not spectacular.
Which is, of course, why they are so great.
These pots embody mostly what I have come to love about making pots, what I want pots to do, and why, alas, I have such a hard time selling them. Their beauty is not immediately apparent, but reveals itself over time and use. The weight of the bowl is just right. Both the mug and bowl fit my hand perfectly. The texture and feel of the raw clay at the bottom of the mug, and the way it contrasts to the glossy smoothness of the glaze is addictive to touch. The subtle richness of the glazes of both pots and how they are enhanced by the richness of the clay reveals itself over time. There are moments when I find myself contemplating the rich lavender hue in the lip of the mug or the beautiful iron speck of the bowl in the milky-green celedon glaze surface that remind me of they way I might gaze at the night sky or look into a fire. And because the pots are not flashy, they compliment, rather than compete with, what you put in them.
Flashy pots get all the attention, but sturdy, well-crafted humble pots get the most use. If you collect pots (or want to start) I hope you'll keep a spot on your shelves for some humble pots. I bet you will come to find them the most treasured pieces in your collection.
the studio chair
A place for me to ramble on when I need to take a break.