Sculptors, poets, painters, musicians–they’re the traditional purveyors of Beauty. But it can as easily be created by a gardener, a farmer, a plumber, a careworker.
CHARLES DE LINT, The Onion Girl
It isn’t just the piece or my weakness for the whole process of pottery. It’s not only that pottery combines two important factors for me: useful and pretty.
It’s the anticipation of seeing these two hippies (I have an affinity for hippies) every year and chatting them up on what’s changed in the area or hearing them humbly brag on their daughter who is now part of their pottery business.
They don’t remember us from all the other tourists who wander into their little shop on the hill. Every year they ask where we’re from and when I say Florida we get a tale from a time he lived down here in another age. Brandt and his wife are amiable and I think I could learn a lot from them if we lived in these Smoky Mountains. I’m certain we’d be friends. Maybe we’d meet at the local co-op, if they’d teach be about gardening along with the shaping of bowls.
The town has changed since we’ve been coming up to these parts. Shops have moved out to areas with more tourist but we keep coming for our annual indulgence of fudge from the Chocolate Shop and to see our favorite potters. We call them ‘our’ potters.
I hope he’ll be at the wheel working, to see the wheel spinning and his hands shaping the lump of clay into something useful.
That ordinary lump, transformed into beauty in my eyes.
Have Thine own way, Lord, have Thine own way
Thou are the potter, I am the clay
Mold me and make me, after Thy will
While I am waiting, yielded and still.
Adelaid A. Pollard, lyrics