Why do we buy, use and love the work of other potters?
What is the appeal from one clay worker to the next. Is it the shared medium of clay? Or, is it the language that the clay can speak from us as well as to others.
How often do you hear a customer say,
this speaks to me.
Or, as often, have them walk away saying,
nothing speaks to me today.
When that happens I cast an eye on my pots and think,
what is wrong with you all, cat got your tongue?
There are pots that have grabbed my attention over the years and I can look around and see that I tend to fall for teapots.
It is not for the reason of making tea it seems that my reasons are a bit like falling in love, over and over again.
I love you, these teapots have whispered to me.
You need me, they call.
And I fall down the rabbit hole once again.
The Gene Kelly, the Fred Astaire, the reaching out of spout and the classiness of a well placed handle, the lift of the spout. They beckon and call, and I answer.
Then there are the ones that seem so simple, yet, are not.
You are sweet, just fit in my hand.
I can turn you over and over looking and finding your simple elegance. A stamp here and a stamp there. I can look at you and see how you were held and thought about.
Maybe it is that.
The fact we can read the pot much like someone reads a book.
I love a good line in a book or song.
I also love a good line in a pot.
I have my roots in pottery from a place where pottery was simple, made to use. The majority of the items had a purpose, tableware, eating, drinking, storing. The theme of daily use runs through the old pots. And yet, there are ones like this small Rebecka Jug that do not have a use for serving,cooking or eating. More like the early
I don't need it but I want it pottery.
I found this small Rebecka in a second hand shop in 1976-77ish.
It was tucked back in housewares for 5.00.
I have always thought it was 5.00 well spent.
At the time I bought it I was not a potter, I did not know I would one day make pottery. I just knew it was made in Seagrove by a local potter. Later I would meet Joe Owen the maker.
I don't own but a pot of two that I don't know the maker.
I think that is why we also buy pottery from potters. We get to know who you are through your work.
It speaks to us, or not.
The pottery in the house runs from one extreme to another, maybe like the inner workings of my mind. I found I could never collect one person, one type of pottery, one region, one state.
What about you?
When you look around is there a wide variety in your own house that has brought you many years of joy.
Do you buy things that are only useful to you or is it the love that draws you in.
I still think that pottery is the most useful art form there is. One that can be accessed by almost anyone. It can start with a simple bowl or mug. An item that holds your morning oatmeal and cup of coffee. Then you find you need a plate for toast and jam. They feed you in many ways that a plastic or molded import just can not.
I always wonder when someone says that can not afford handmade items. I have pottery here that has outlasted the maker, that will someday outlast even me.
Sure there are times that a pot breaks when it does, we mourn, we move on. After all it is not the last cup on the face of the earth. We love to say,
just break it, we can make more.
I am sure that we could talk about pottery all day, but there are things to be done.
M
