The things I love are showing signs of age. A frayed edge here, a grey hair there. My favorite pair of handmade woolen socks needs darning. . . again. My jeans have two, no make it three, patches. The good books are dog-eared. And my 25 year old pair of Docs. . . well, you’ll have to pry them off my cold dead feet. These are objects made well, obtained with a certain amount of deliberation and cost, and despite their age, will be around much longer than the ill-considered plastic junk collecting dust in closets and cabinets.
In a world of cheap, disposable everything, we have the potential to engulf our lives with mass-produced, uniformly extruded, humorless, lifeless but well-traveled goods. But a veneer of shiny crap is just no substitute for substance. The things I love… though things they are indeed, are my great-good things with stories, and pasts, and not a hint of polyester.
The things I make are intended to be loved by someone else, but I keep my prerequisites in mind. Made deliberately, slowly, and with some strongly preconceived notions of what I’d want to own, Darn Pottery is simple, useful and comes a bit pre-aged since clay pieces won’t look older for at least a few thousand years. Individually hand-built or thrown on the wheel, hand painted with colored slip and food safe glazes, every piece of Darn Pottery is different. It takes much longer that way. But it certainly makes it more interesting. Whether the sweater-striped mugs, or the polka-dot platters, the flower buttons, or the baked potato bowls (made to hold not just Mr. Potato but the Senora and the Bambino), these pots are pretty darn lovable, if I dare say so myself.