A New Start

It's almost like being called home. Not in the religious sense, but in that very real world way we find ourselves gravitating to what we know. I have been making my living as a paramedic and manager of Peninsula Ambulance in Blue Hill. I have enjoyed that career and still find the work rewarding.

Given what I said about a career in medicine in the first part of my story, it's more than a little ironic as well.

But I was always happiest with mud on my hands. And regardless of any other choices I made or the reasons for them, I knew I wanted to return to pottery. People in emergency medical services don't make the sort of living that allows a leisurely retirement. For that matter, very few do. I began thinking about a retirement job that would suit me well and the idea of opening a pottery studio immediately came to mind. After all, if you are going to have to work for the rest of your life, you should be doing something you love.

One person I know refers to this as intentional living. I like the sound of that.

So in 2007, when I got a phone call asking if I would be willing to join in on a project to reformulate the glazes at Rowantrees, I reacted in a predictable manner. I was extremely reluctant.

Change. You dream about it and then get all crampy when it presents itself.

I gave it a lot of thought and picked up my phone. Yes, I would do the research and see if I could reformulate the glazes. I was nervous about that, but I had done a lot of work on this very project about 18 years before while working at Rowantrees. That gave me a good base to start from. And believe it or not, I had saved all my notes. Call it prophetic, but I was actually prepared.

To back up just a bit, I should point out that the original glazes used at Rowantrees were formulated with lead. They were very beautiful and unique glazes that stood up well. And I'll share another little tidbit with you; I always felt they were safe to use. To this day, I have many pieces of Rowantrees in my kitchen and I continue to use it.

But the problem with lead is more than its toxicity and the need to keep it food safe. Science on the issue has changed over the last couple of decades. What was once considered safe is not any longer. Changes in federal standards caused Rowantrees to issue a recall on their products a few years ago, but few if any customers decided to return their pottery.

You can't buy loyalty like that. It is earned over many years, and Rowantrees had earned it.

But laws are laws. And eventually, it became illegal to purchase lead. Even ceramic stains and commercial glazes containing lead disappeared. I guess we can call that progress, but a lot of beauty has vanished.

So the glazes needed to be reformulated and I stepped up to the plate.

The best replacement for lead is boron. It's non-toxic and not only helps a glaze to melt, but it also forms glass. It has it's own properties, limitations and advantages, but it is a radical change in the chemistry of a glaze. Copper, normally used to produce shades of green in a glaze, tends toward blue with boron. Surface textures that are glassy smooth with lead are far more difficult to achieve. Firing can take considerably longer with boronated glazes.

But if pottery is nothing else, it is a constant challenge. You are always solving a problem or puzzling out a poser of one sort or another. This keeps a brain active and young, I think.

The process was slow, and in the midst of it, I began to think seriously about taking over the Rowantrees business. I went as far as to talk with the bank and a counselor at the Maine Small Business Development Center. While this particular idea never got off the ground, it gave me another.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. What about the glazes?

Well, most of them remain a work in progress. But not all of them. Two of the most popular colors are reformulated and almost indistinguishable from the original. These are the Heather Blue and White glazes. Here is a picture of a Rowantrees coffee cup and saucer glazed with the original lead glazes:


And here is the reformulated, lead-free version:


Of course, a lot can affect the exact color; thickness of application, amount of overlap, firing time, even the water used to make the glaze. But variations in color and size are the hallmark of hand crafted items. They show the hand at work behind the object and remind us not only of the endless variation in nature, but in ourselves. That is what keeps things new and vibrant.

I will post more pictures of the glaze project as the reformulations progress.

And soon, I will tell you why all of this matters!

Finding My Way - Part 3

The Christmas vacation of 1981 could best be described as magical. I headed to Blue Hill for my apprenticeship at Rowantrees having no idea in the world what was going to happen, but fully receptive to whatever came.

New England - especially coastal New England - is a study in contrasts. You can find everything from rustic nothingness to sprawling cities along the water. Once in the rural areas, though, you find small villages interspersed with dense tree growth and fields that go on for what seem forever.

Oh, and blueberry fields. Don't forget those.

But the one reliable symbol of a town along the Maine coast always seems to be the white church steeple. In most cases, it's the first indication you have that you are even close to a town. That was and remains the case with Blue Hill. The Blue Hill Congregational Church steeple is one of the first things you will see as you enter the town. SO when I saw that steeple, I knew something big was going to happen.

I knocked on the front door of Sheila's home and waited. Before long, I found myself face to face (in a manner of speaking) with one of the strangest dogs I have ever seen. He appeared to be a dachshund, but he was huge for that breed. He was also entirely black. He barked me a greeting in that dachshund sort of way that says, "I'm happy to meet you," and, "Don't even think of messing with me or mine," all at the same time. While I was still taking this in, Sheila appeared at the door and introduced us. The dog's name was Smokey. "He's not exactly a pure bred dachle, is he?" I said. She allowed that I was correct and that his parentage included a black lab. To this day I have puzzled that one out and never quite managed to wrap my head around it, but Smokey would not be the last of that mix I would meet. Sheila called him a dhachador.

I was given a choice of things to do once I was settled in, and I chose to go straight to the pottery. I could decide for myself what I wanted to throw and spend all the time I wanted doing so. Sheila would then look my work over and comment. Just what I was hoping for.

But there was more.

Sheila told me that her two current potters were leaving and she would be in need of a replacement. If I liked it there and could throw well, she would hire me.

Call it serendipity, call it synchronicity, call it anything you want. hours would go by before my feet would touch the ground again.

I spent most of my time in the pottery during the day and into the evening. With the exception of a trip to Connecticut to visit with family over the holiday itself, I remained in Blue Hill until the end of the Christmas holiday when I had to return to my kitchen job. Ont he day I arrived back at Kents Hill School, I was going to give my two weeks notice. Sheila had hired me.

Synchronicity has a darker side. I reported for work in the kitchen only to be told that I had been let go and no longer had a job there. Huh. I won't go into that long story here, but it ended well for me. I turned my attention to my future as a potter.

Sheila made a prediction the day I started work that she would put about three years into me before I would be an accomplished production potter. I was horrified at that prospect, but she was right. There is a big difference between knowing how to throw and being proficient at it. Just because you can make a plate does not mean your product will keep the peas from rolling into the gravy. Hey, I like it that way, but a lot of people don't.

I never envied Sheila the role she had to play - introducing a 21 year old to life and reality in the real world - but she did it with aplomb and no small amount of patience.

I worked at Rowantrees for just over eight years, leaving in 1990 when economic forces made it too difficult to keep me on over the winter. I went to work for Peninsula Ambulance where I remain a full-time manager to this day. I can't say it's a bad gig; in fact, I find it a rewarding profession. But I was always happiest at Rowantrees and always hoped I could find a way back there.

Then came the phone call in 2007.

Finding My Way - Part 2

It turned out that the question of making a living as a potter had been asked a long time ago. Adelaide Pearson was wondering the same thing back in the 1930s when she hired a gentleman by the name of Linn Phelan to come to Blue Hill and work on an extraordinary project for her. The terms were simple. She would provide room, board and a small stipend while he manufactured pottery and art ware. At the end of a defined period of time, he would be expected to pay her back from the proceeds of the pottery.

I'm going to avoid tipping the entire story because it will be detailed in a book entitled Following the Brick Path; The Story of Rowantrees Pottery currently being written by Linn Phelan's son Andrew Phelan. The book is due to be released in late July and I will be posting more details about it in this blog as the time approaches.

By the time I graduated college, I knew I wanted to be a potter. It may have been just another in a long string of dreams and fantasies I had while growing up, but I had taken the time to acquire some skill at it and to learn a lot in technical terms as well. But unlike so many other passions, this one was not fading. There was a desire to press on and figure out how to make it work.

One afternoon while sitting in the reference section of the Bangor Public Library, I happened over a directory of businesses in Maine. Flipping through the pages, I found Rowantrees Pottery listed. The manager's name was Sheila Varnum and the phone number was provided. I wrote all the information down and tucked it into my pocket.

I am not the sort of person who is comfortable making cold calls. I don't know why that is, but I think it has something to do with a general aversion to telephones. Whatever the case, I managed to work up the courage to dial the number. Sheila answered the phone in her usual fashion by just saying, "Rowantrees." I introduced myself and told her of my interest in pottery and making a living at it.

I didn't ask about a job, but did ask if I might come and talk to her about the pottery business. I wanted to see how a full-time pottery operated. I was formal in my request, having grown up with the New England idea that good manners never went out of style.

"Love to have you!" came her reply. Immediately, I was put at complete ease. We set a date and time and I went for a visit. I brought what I thought to be a decent portfolio of the work I had done, plus a couple of pots that I thought to be among my best efforts. I still have some of those pots. I keep them hidden on a top shelf in my kitchen and take them out on occasion when I feel I need to be humbled.

But I was young and new at this trade. I had not yet learned to judge quality. Looking back on that visit, I still wonder at how Sheila measured her words when looking my "masterpieces" over. But she was very encouraging. I still did not ask about a job. As interested as I was, that visit made it pretty clear how much I had to learn.

With a degree in performing arts and a desire to be a potter, I would start my life in the real world washing dishes. But when you're in your early 20s, nothing at all is impossible. Honestly, how I made it through those years I can't imagine.

But I do understand the anxiety my parents nursed on my behalf.

A few months went by during which I did, in fact, work in food service. I had a job at Kents Hill School in Kents Hill, Maine. The school had a pottery program and I was permitted to work on projects before I had to be at work. I spent many hours each week in the school studio working on small projects and talking to the teacher and students. Nothing survives from those sessions outside of the memories, though.

Like other schools, Kents Hill broke over the Christmas holidays for a couple of weeks. Needing something to do, I got an inspiration and wrote to Sheila asking about a one-week apprenticeship at Rowantrees. Once again, I didn't ask about employment. I was interested in a full immersion experience during which I would actually have to produce pottery in quantity. I don't know what I was thinking, really, but it was worth a try. I'll never forget the first line in Sheila's reply. "I guess you could say that persistence pays off." The letter was an invitation to come stay at her home and work in the pottery for one week.

That letter changed my life.

Starting Out

This blog space has been created as a place holder for the moment. In time, there will be a lot to talk about, but for now I will just state for the record that exciting things are in the works here in the Blue Hill, Maine area. Check back often to see what developments have taken place. I promise to keep you updated.