A craft born from
longing — and time.
Some people stumble into pottery. I had been circling it for years, knowing it was something I wanted but never quite finding the opening. That changed when my husband — my now husband at the time — enrolled in a demanding set of evening courses, and I suddenly had a stretch of free nights and no idea what to do with them.
So I signed up for two wheel-throwing classes at our local community college and figured it would keep me busy. Little did I know I was about to fall completely in love.
We're rooted in the mountains of Western Carolina, where artisan culture runs deep, and the community college programs reflect that. I found myself surrounded by skilled makers and a wealth of tradition — and I absorbed as much as I could, in class and out of it, watching pottery videos late into the night and practicing every chance I got.
"I soon developed a knack for sgraffito — Italian for 'to scratch through.' You'll still see it all over my work today."
Sgraffito lets me tell a story inside the piece itself. A scratch here, a carved line there — and suddenly a mug becomes a memory, a bowl becomes a portrait of a place or a person. It's the technique that changed everything for me, and it still does.
The first real test of that came during our wedding. We kept it small and intimate, and I wanted every detail to feel like us. So I made the drinkware — a set of Yunomi, the handleless Japanese-style cups traditionally used for daily tea — and carved each one with something that told a piece of our story.
Bourbon barrels — our first date
Blueberries — from our grove at home
Wildflowers — from trails we've hiked
Pizza slices — our first real planned date
Each cup went to someone we love, carrying a little of us with it. That's still what I think about every time I sit down at the wheel.
I carry that same intention into custom work today — anniversary pieces that tell the story of a couple, carved with their colors, their season, their small and specific things. If you have a story worth holding onto, I'd love to help you hold it in clay.
Tell us your story — we'll find a way to throw it.
