One of the many very wonderful things that has come out of pottery, is the community of people its connected me to. When I meet a fellow potter, there’s an instant draw. Just like when I hear a British accent on the streetcar. Through clay, I’ve met such beautiful, daring, determined and persistent women. It’s thrilling to be inspired, and to feel that I inspire others. This is community. But it’s not just my fellow makers. The supporters, the champions of handmade, some friends, some strangers, are such an important part of this community. They invest in our work, and thus acknowledge the time and thought and joy and frustration that goes into each piece. “This will be perfect for all the Middle Eastern food we’ve been cooking,” one lovely buyer said at a sale yesterday with my platter in hand. “I love that this bowl is a little unstable,” said another buyer of a wobbly castoff. “And I love that you appreciate that imperfection,” I responded. One couple snapped up five pieces. Likely two weeks of work. “I love your ceramics,” she beamed, while throwing her arms around me. These moments are a thrill, for us both. “Buy from humans,” my friend, Katherine Holland says. It’s such a different pleasure to spoon up ice cream from a wonky, handmade bowl or plonk daffodils into a vase that shows the markings of its maker. I am so grateful to all the people who motivate me to make, who celebrate the mistakes, are inspired by them, even, and who choose to bring my heartfelt creations into their homes.