I tease my father for being a pack rat, but last week I got my comeuppance when, after cleaning out some of his basement, he presented me with these vintage mugs which I made in my first pottery class at age 8. I fondly remember the smell of the studio, which resembled a fraternity house basement, as my teacher, Mrs. Schneider, put beer in the clay to make it more workable. It was the 1970’s. Even if you can’t smell the studio, you can feel the groovy vibe of these pots.

Groovy Mugs