Why I Hand Build My Pottery

There are a lot of ways to make a pot.

You can throw one on a wheel, press clay into a mold, cast it, slip-cast it, or use any number of techniques to turn a lump of clay into something functional.

For my pottery, I keep coming back to one method more than any other:

Hand building.

Hand building gives me the freedom to make pots that don't look like they came off an assembly line. I can change the shape as I'm working, build texture directly into the clay, and allow the material to dictate where the piece goes.

The result is pottery that feels a little more like it belongs in the landscape.

And since many of the pots I make are designed for cactus, succulents, caudex plants, and bonsai, that connection to the natural world is a big part of what I'm after.

Why Hand Building?

Hand building is exactly what it sounds like: instead of using a pottery wheel to spin the clay into shape, I build the piece by hand.

That might mean working with slabs of clay, adding pieces together, shaping the walls, carving into the surface, or simply manipulating the clay until the form feels right.

There is something about the process that I really enjoy.

The clay doesn't always cooperate.

A wall might move in a direction I didn't expect.

A corner might become uneven.

A texture might develop differently than I imagined.

Instead of trying to eliminate all of those things, I often work with them.

That's part of the appeal.

The finished pot shows evidence that a person made it.

I Don't Want Every Pot to Look Perfect

When I make pottery, I'm generally not trying to create perfectly symmetrical objects.

I'm much more interested in character.

A pot might have an uneven edge.

The surface might have variations in texture.

One side might be slightly different from the other.

The shape might feel like something that was formed by nature rather than manufactured by a machine.

For me, those imperfections aren't flaws.

They're part of what makes a handmade pot interesting.

A cactus or succulent is already an unusual piece of living sculpture. I want the pot to complement that rather than compete with it.

Inspired by Rocks, Landscapes, and Nature

A lot of my pottery is inspired by the natural world.

I like the look of weathered stone.

Rock formations.

Cracked earth.

Eroded surfaces.

Tree bark.

Mineral deposits.

The textures and patterns you find in places where plants actually grow.

Those things naturally find their way into my pots.

Instead of making a pot that looks like a perfect piece of manufactured ceramic, I'll sometimes build a surface that looks as though it has been weathered by the elements.

That works particularly well with cactus and succulent plants.

A rugged cactus growing from a smooth, pristine pot can look great.

But put that same cactus into something that looks like a piece of weathered stone, and suddenly the plant feels like it belongs there.

Natural Doesn't Mean Boring

Natural textures don't have to mean that every pot is gray and covered in rock-like texture.

One of my favorite parts of working with clay is experimenting with patterns.

I like creating surfaces that feel organic without necessarily trying to reproduce a specific thing from nature.

Patterns can be carved, impressed, layered, scratched, stamped, or built directly into the clay.

Some are subtle.

Others are much more dramatic.

Sometimes I'll start with an idea for a pattern and see where it takes me.

Other times, the texture develops as I'm working.

That's one of the things I enjoy about hand building: the process leaves room for discovery.

Every Pot Is an Opportunity to Experiment

Working with clay is a constant experiment.

You can have an idea in your head, build it, glaze it, fire it, and end up with something completely different.

Sometimes that's frustrating.

Sometimes it's exactly what makes the piece work.

Glazes move.

Textures catch light differently than expected.

Clay bodies change the appearance of a surface.

A piece can look completely different after firing than it did when it was sitting on the workbench.

I've learned to leave some room for that unpredictability.

If I tried to control every single detail, I think I'd lose some of the reason I enjoy making pottery in the first place.

And Sometimes I Throw on the Wheel

Although hand building is my primary method, I don't completely ignore the pottery wheel.

Every once in a while, I like to throw a piece.

The wheel offers a completely different experience.

There's something satisfying about centering a lump of clay and watching it transform as it spins.

It also provides a nice change of pace.

Wheel-thrown pottery naturally tends toward a different kind of form. The symmetry and movement of the wheel create shapes that can be difficult to achieve through hand building.

Sometimes that's exactly what I'm looking for.

Other times, I throw a piece simply because I want to do something different.

Hand Built or Wheel Thrown?

I don't really think one method is better than the other.

They're simply different tools.

The wheel is fantastic for creating symmetrical forms, consistent curves, and beautiful rounded shapes.

Hand building gives me more freedom to create irregular forms, unusual silhouettes, textures, and surfaces.

For the kind of pottery I enjoy making, hand building gives me the flexibility I'm looking for most of the time.

But the wheel is always there when I want to change things up.

Sometimes the best way to find a new idea is to step outside your usual process.

Pottery Made for Plants

Plants are a huge part of why I make the pots I do.

A pot isn't just a container.

It's part of the presentation.

A cactus has a particular shape.

A caudex plant has a particular character.

A bonsai has its own sense of age and movement.

The pot needs to work with that plant.

That's why I enjoy making different shapes, textures, and sizes rather than producing one standardized style.

A tiny Lithops might need something completely different from a massive Adenium.

A heavily spined cactus might look incredible in a rugged, rocky pot.

A delicate succulent might work better with a more subtle pattern.

The plant and the pot should have a relationship.

The Pot Is Part of the Landscape

This is especially important with the way I like to stage plants.

I often want a finished planting to look as though the plant is growing in its natural habitat.

That means the pot itself becomes part of the landscape.

A rocky pot can become the geological foundation.

Top dressing can become the soil and surrounding gravel.

The plant becomes the focal point.

Suddenly, you're not just looking at a potted cactus.

You're looking at a miniature landscape.

That's one of the reasons I enjoy making pottery specifically for cactus, succulents, caudex plants, and bonsai.

These plants already have such strong shapes and personalities.

The right handmade pot can take that even further.

Making Something That Doesn't Look Mass Produced

There is something special about picking up a handmade pot and being able to see how it was made.

You can see the texture.

You can feel the surface.

You can see small variations in the form.

You know that somebody actually spent time working the clay.

That's what I want my pottery to communicate.

Not perfection.

Personality.

I want each piece to feel like an object rather than a product that happened to come off a production line.

Why I Keep Coming Back to Clay

The process is probably the biggest reason.

There is something very satisfying about starting with a completely formless piece of clay and slowly turning it into something useful.

You can push it.

Cut it.

Carve it.

Texture it.

Add to it.

Take things away.

Change your mind.

And eventually, after drying, firing, glazing, and firing again, you end up with something that can last for generations.

That's pretty remarkable.

And every time I sit down at the workbench, there's another opportunity to make something I've never made before.

Final Thoughts

I hand build because it gives me the freedom to make pottery that feels natural, rugged, unusual, and personal.

I like pots that look a little like rocks.

I like weathered textures.

I like strange shapes.

I like experimenting with patterns.

And I like making pieces that work with the plants they're designed to hold.

The pottery doesn't have to be perfectly symmetrical.

The texture doesn't have to be uniform.

The glaze doesn't always have to behave exactly as planned.

Sometimes those unexpected things are what make a piece special.

And every once in a while, I'll sit down at the wheel and throw something just to change things up.

At the end of the day, that's what I enjoy most about working with clay.

There are always more things to try.