My husband started studying pottery years ago when we first moved to Japan, and he's been going to the same Kamakura pottery studio every weekend now for about twelve years. Moyurugama is on a little lane in a sweet old two-story house not far from Hachimangu Shrine.
This weekend many new works of his came out of the kiln. It's always a pleasure to see the results.
Pottery is a bit like writing a story. You have a vague idea how the piece is going to turn out. But until it's fired and out of the kiln, there are always surprises.
Nearly all of our dishes are hand-made. There is something so appealing about eating a home-cooked meal from cups and bowls and plates and platters that were hand-thrown.
Especially when combined with the serving spoons hand-carved by my father.
So now I return to my own craft of building stories, word by word, page by slow page, following the plot, hearing my characters.
Like responding to the clay. Like listening to the wood.