Those of us who sell pots at craft shows and fairs spend a lot of time whining to each other about the mercurial habits of the buying public. Or, perhaps more accurately, the looking public. We sit behind our shelves of pots and smile at everyone who comes by, even if they determinedly don't make eye contact. We explain our work, our clay, our glazes, our firing methods, that "no, it's not raku" ... over and over again. "Beautiful work," they say, and move on down the aisle to the next jeweler or potter or card-maker or ... or ... or ... I spend a great deal of time waiting for the one or two people who truly make a connection with the pots. With my pots. Or, really, with anyone's pots. There are people who are truly interested in clay and in the making process and in the thought that goes into the whole thing. I love those people. I love it when they buy, but buying is a secondary concern when you meet someone who knows something about clay or genuinely wants to know something about clay. This comes up because I met a Chinese woman named Ji Jin two days ago at Coffee Obsession, the best coffee shop in Falmouth and the place I am usually found early in the morning before starting the day in the studio. I was leaving in a moment, it was a crowded morning there and I offered Ji Jin and her friends my table. She sat down immediately and began asking about my mug. She wanted to know about the clay, about the color of the glaze, about the overlap of copper red over temmoku. She told me a few things she knew about pot-making in China. I told her a couple of stories I know about pot-making in Korea and Japan. When her friends sat down, I got one of my business cards and a small Shino cup from the shelf display nearby and gave her both. That kind of interest should be encouraged. Today she sent me an e-mail: "I hope you know how much it warmed me when you put the small beautiful pot in front of me and smiled, “It’s a gift.” It brightened up my day! Thank you so very much! After you left, for a very long time, my friends and I passed around the pot and admired everything about it: the design, your signature, the color, the thoughtful dip on the side, the texture.... I particularly loved the crystal like green at the bottom of the pot. It reminds of the green tea leaves lingering at the bottom of a tea cup. I’m now using it as a teacup, and every time I sip the tea, I think of the spring time in Coffee O. "You changed my view of pottery too. I opted for a career in science but I’ve always been drawn towards arts. I started white and black ink drawing many years ago and later painting. I traveled about the world and by luck came across a few friends and each of them directed me to a path further down in the art world. But pottery has never been intimate to me. It has always been distant and cold, although beautiful. You brought me the personality of the pottery. This is something that truly made me happy. Thank you! "Have a lovely spring day.. " Jin
We should all get such lovely thank-you notes. Made my day.
I make and sell functional pottery at Hatchville Pottery in Hatchville, a neighborhood of the town of Falmouth, at the west end of Cape Cod in Massachusetts. I'm a former journalist - 20 years as a photographer, writer and editor - who began to make pottery about 20 years ago in Alexandria, VA. My training is in pots for eating, drinking and displaying flowers, often with an Asian or late British influence. Hamada Shoji, Phil Rogers, Dan Finnegan, Nakazato Takashi, Kanzaki Shiho are all influences.
Married 40 years to Dee, a massage therapist in Falmouth, with one child, Marcus.
To see more of my pots, go to my website at http://web.me.com/hatchvillepottery/Site/Home.html
DIRECTIONS TO THE POTTERY: We are at 494 Boxberry Hill Rd. in East Falmouth. Take the Route 151/Mashpee exit off Route 28 in North Falmouth, go east on 151 to the first flashing light, take a right onto Boxberry Hill. We're about a quarter mile down on the right, at the corner of Brady Drive. Call 508-563-1948 for more information, or email firstname.lastname@example.org