Layers of Strength and Fragility

When I first started throwing, I struggled to get height in my walls—a common beginner’s challenge in pottery. My dream, even back then, was to create double-walled vessels: pieces with an inner form and an outer shell that I could carve away to reveal the hidden vessel inside.

I practiced. A lot. And by “a lot,” I mean countless hours at the wheel, with more failed attempts than I care to admit. My reclaim bucket was overflowing as I tried to figure out how to master this technique. Eventually, I decided to throw two separate vessels and join them together. It worked—sort of. For every ten attempts (which really meant twenty vessels, since they’re made in pairs), only two or three survived to the firing stage. And just when I thought I had it—right at the carving stage—the whole thing would collapse in my hands!

But there’s something about these double-walled forms that keeps me coming back. They’re both strong and delicate—the solid inner core standing firm while the outer layer offers a lace-like fragility. One supports the other. It feels symbolic, almost like a metaphor for life.

What I love most is how these vessels tell stories. The inner wall becomes a canvas for underglaze illustrations—woodland creatures, folktales, or tiny worlds glimpsed through carved “windows” in the outer shell. Each one feels like a peek into another realm.

I’m still perfecting the technique, but I’m excited to share more of the process (and a few finished pieces) soon. It’s been a journey of patience, persistence, and learning to find beauty in the fragile balance between strength and delicacy.