She receives 3 F's

I never know in which section of housewares I'll find a piece of treasure. It's getting to where I have to carefully look through all the shelves, tiptoeing to see on the top shelves, and either squatting down or hanging my head upside down to check out the bottom shelves. Squatting wears the legs out and hanging your head upside down reeks havoc on the sinuses but the search must go on, pottery needs to be rescued. She was on the top shelf with other spouted pieces. She was beautiful with dainty features, a twisted handle, and lovely glaze. "Irvine" is the name etched on the bottom. I can't think of the perfect first name for her but I have to give her 3 F's. The first F is for being functional, the second F for being feminine, and the 3rd F is for being frilly. Hmmmm? What would be the perfect name for her?

There can only be one name.

     Once a week I stop by the store to see if there are any new pottery pieces that will be adopted. On this day I was in an area with a different store but one that's just as interesting to peruse through. I do the usual routine of heading to the household area, scanning the shelves, picking up and putting down pieces. Nope....possible....don't think so....aha! I get a sense as I start to pick it up this one that we have a winner. There is always a sense of anticipation as I flip over a piece to see how it is signed. This one does not disappoint me. I smile as I read the name painted on the underside of this one. It's a last name and first name comes quickly to me because there can only be one name. The name on this piece is "Pitt" so he has to be named Brad.

Me as pottery

I will say that this is me in pottery. I remember I found me a little bit before I made the conscious decision to start adopting pottery. The usual routine is that I carefully look through the shelves for the orphans, pick them up, and then flip them over. When I flipped me over, before I knew this was me, I saw two letters drawn into the clay in small precise letters. They were my initials. I thought to myself, "If I were to make a piece of pottery, I could see myself making this." It resembles me as well, being on the petite side, unassuming, and utilitarian in a unique way, with earthy colors. I think the creator, like my creator, didn't want something flashy or bulky, just something that would quieting do it's job and do it well. Like me there are variations in it's color and many imperfections. Like me it also has a purpose which continually changes according to the need of my creator.

The cousins

As I'm looking through the shelves I'm thinking, "Nope, nope, nope." I'm thinking this because as I pick up potential adoptees I see that they are either factory made, made in China, or too expensive. My eye spots a piece that I first think is a mass produced sort of pottery. This one doesn't have that traditional "glazed" look to it. As I lift it up I feel that familiar heaviness of clay so I flip it over to see the letters HK pressed into the bottom. Hmmm, HK. Nothing comes to mind immediately but sometimes these things take time. I cradle it in my arm as I continue to search through different shelves and then go to different areas of the store to maybe find that wayward piece. Nope, nothing else, so I start to head to the front of the store. My eyes are always on the search though, even as my feet are carrying me to the cashiers. My eyes dart to the right, then forward, then immediately back to the right. Aha! Did I somehow miss this one or was it just put out by one of the employees? Picking it up I'm thinking it feels right, it's priced right, and BINGO, it's signed right. I'm so excited because on the bottom is the name "Henri" and he is shaped the same as HK. It then comes to me. These guys are cousins, Henri and Harrold. Come on boys.....you're coming home with me.

The Sisters

         I saw Mary first. She was sitting there, front and center on the shelf. Very unassuming, demure. I liked her right away. Her glaze was applied on the inside and then looked like the creator had slightly dipped one side of her into a bowl of glaze. I found that an interesting quirk about her. The rest of her was rough to the touch, an unexpected texture for a piece of glazed pottery. I examined her bottom for information. A first, middle, and last name and 1977. I tucked her under my arm and continued searching the shelves. What's this? I carefully moved breakable items to the side as I reached into the back on the middle shelf. This little girl resembled the first in size, style, and color palette, although her glaze was applied more uniformly. I flipped her over and low and behold the same creator and date. I held them up together, side by side. Paternal twins. What are the odds of that? The name on the bottom looked like it was inscribed by a steady and mature hand. Maybe a mature woman looking for a hobby to fill the time now that her kids were out of the house with kids of their own. Maybe this was something she had always wanted to do but life got busy. Maybe a friend had talked her into enjoying a class with her every Tuesday night. What ever the reason, she seemed to enjoy it because she made two. I now have Mary and her sister Helen in my keep.

I will call him "Samson"

     I've decided my orphans need names. Some of the names will be easy because they are written right there on the bottom, whereas others will have to come to me. This one was easy. The minute I picked him up I knew that my wallet would be a little lighter when I went home but that the Goodwill bag would be very heavy. There were air bubbles in his gloppy glaze which gave him a "rough around the edges" appeal. As I heaved him up to turn him over, his underside revealed S M  78. Interesting.....what was his story? I eagerly loaded him up in the car and drove him home. I quickly washed him up and looked at him as he glistened in the drying rack. What was his story? Took out my run of the mill coffee mug and compared it to my mammoth mug I had just adopted. Whoa!!! He was a big boy! Had to see just how much he weighed so I got down grandma's scales. The run of the mill mug weighed 12 oz but this boy weighed a whopping 2 lbs. 12 oz. His story began to formulate in my mind. His creator was a high school or college student, male, and a big guy. Only a big guy wouldn't think twice about having his mug so dense and sturdy. Everything should be that way. It felt perfect when he pulled it off the wheel. And the handle? The handle had to be large too, to accommodate a large hand. The glaze? If the teacher says put a couple of good coats on, then a couple of extra good coats was better. I'm not sure if he got an A in class, but he got an A in my heart. I will call him "Samson".

Why "The Potter's Clay Rescue"?

     So here I am on a new venture, trying to keep up with technology yet keeping true to the core of my being. I am not a writer, never been published, and enjoy the little things in life. So no fame and fortune for me, just simplicity and God's will. I consider myself a natural kind of person with a little artistic ability thrown in. I love to be creative but find that the thought of expense often gets in the way of follow through. I still have projects and collections of possible things to do tucked away in the closet just waiting to be completed or purged. So hard to purge.
      I love to be thrifty, love collecting things, and love handmade pottery. Every time I go into a thrift store or Goodwill, I find myself in the isle that contains the wares that are glass/kitchen or in the garden area where planters and pots are sitting just waiting for someone to come and take them home. I am always drawn to those little handmade pots, mugs, vases that some novice has made. I look at them lovingly and think, "Someone has created you with great hope or love. You were probably made as a gift to bring joy to someone, or made with the hopes of making a living, or with hopes of helping someone to become a great artist." As I lift them up and feel the weight of their being, examine the exquisite use of the glaze, and the unique form their creator choose, one thought comes to my mind........"You're coming home with me." Granted some pots are very rough with their symmetry a little askew and drippy looking glaze, but to me they are masterpieces that a grandson created for his grandparents, a college student hoped would get that needed A, or a mature person found new found energy or passion. Some how they ended up on the shelf after being processed in the back and shoved on the shelf with every other type of breakable item. Maybe grandma passed away and the sentimental items aren't sentimental to anyone else. Maybe it's time to downsize or move and there just isn't any room for those extra gifts or nicknack's. Maybe it was time to purge those things from a difficult time in a life. I'm don't know. All I know is that I have to rescue them and bring them home where I can feel the weightiness of them, touch the texture of their glaze, read their markings on the bottom, and just look at them and appreciate their artist being. So I am adopting pottery.
     I'm not sure how this will blog out but hey, it's a journey. You've got to start somewhere and who knows where it will take me. I'm going to try to add pictures of some of my new charges and their quirks. Let me know what you think. Thanks, Phillys