drippy ginkgo teacup

drippy ginkgo teacup
Originally uploaded by Bridgman Pottery
Last summer I made a series of leaf teacups for my boy's mother's day out teachers, as well as the librarian who we saw every week for 2 years at the toddler story hour at the main library. I think I made 6-8 of them, let them sit around for a while, then finally put them up on etsy in the last week or so. You've already seen a couple of my favorites- one with a big beautiful fern (that I broke and may try to fix for my own use), and one with a Japanese Climbing fern.

I had serious reservations about putting this one up because I was so unhappy with how the glaze slid off the leaf and pooled at the foot of the cup. Ruined, I thought. A waste of a ginkgo, I thought. I LOVE the ginkgo tree. The tall stately sculptural shape of the tree itself, the fan-shaped leaves, its ancient history, and the fabulous golden fall coat it puts on every year*. My neighbor transplanted a small ginkgo from her backyard to her front yard shortly after we moved to this house in 2004. It thrives in the east-facing yard, and serves as a handy-dandy source for leaves for my pottery. Her neighbor also has a tree, so I may never be without!

I called in sick with a stomach bug this morning and went back to bed after dropping little boy off to school. When I awoke, in a sleepy queasy fog, I turned on the old mac and was shocked to see that this piece had sold. Thank you, Dane, for giving my poor drippy child a home. I am always surprised when the things that I perceive as sub-par are among the first to leave my "nest."

*Before I had my son, we lived way out in the country and I would drive into the city to teach clay residencies in the city schools through what was then the Center for Arts Education, an arm of the Greater Memphis Arts Council. Sadly, this program folded in 2003. I remember driving into midtown to reach a specific school just before Thanksgiving to drop off the children's pieces. I stopped the car in front of a huge ginkgo that was beginning to lose its leaves, a golden tree with a golden carpet. On impulse, I filled the entire back floorboard of my car with ginkgo leaves. Half of those leaves made it into pottery, a quarter stayed in the floor just to make me smile that winter.