Wheel thrown vase, 10.5” x 4.5”.
Several months ago, I made the vase on the left. Because of the glaze defects, it gets moved around the studio a lot. It is too pretty for the trash and not suitable for selling. I tried taking it home and using it for utensils, but the opening is too narrow for that. So it's living at the studio again, and I can’t stop looking at it.
I've fallen deeply in love with its shape—visually and functionally. The pot's subtle and graceful lines wow me. The modest swelling of the pot's belly, the nuanced neck narrowing, and the ever-so-slight mouth opening—I did that with minimal effort and even less thought. As my love grew, I wanted to repeat this perfect little miracle of form and function. If you thought this would be easy, let's think again. Here are my efforts over March and into April.
My first batch of teardrop vases.
Above was my first try; the vase was still at the house, and I created them from memory. The belly is too low, and the neck narrowing isn't as subtle as I'd like, but I'm happy with the transition from the neck to the mouth of the vessel.
The second batch of teardrop vases, the tallest is approximately 8”.
After I made this second batch, I brought the original vase back from the house and placed it in front of the mirror in front of the wheel. It's new home. The mirror lets me see the shape I'm throwing without distorting my body. That helped.
Even with the original in front of me, I still can't seem to get the belly of the pot off the foot, where a more graceful shape would be found. There's nothing subtle about those bellies, either. There's lots to say about voluptuousness; these chubby little pots are charming, if not what I was going for.
Greenware teardrops drying in the kiln room.
I did get closer earlier this month when I made these three pieces. They're on the glaze table now, and I hope to have the finished pieces on the website for you next week.
I've always considered my drawing sensual, but now my pots will be, too.
12” Teardrop vases drying.