![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
offcntrSometimes, things break. I had a bad run a few years ago, when my clay supplier messed with the stoneware recipe, and my coffee cups were dying of thermal shock. I replaced them all, free of charge, and I no longer buy clay there. I've also replaced things that broke in shipping, and once, even, a piece that the customer's husband had dropped in the parking lot on the way to the car. It didn't seem fair that she'd never even gotten to use it once, and just because life isn't fair, I see no reason to encourage it in that behavior.
Had a couple in the booth last Sunday looking to replace their favorite bowl (him) and mug (her). Both had met accidents after years of reliable service, and while I was sorry to hear they'd broken, I don't mind selling replacements for pieces that have lived a long and full life. I was glad to help them find new favorite pots.
But I also hear from a lot of customers about how things don't break. They banged a rim against the sink, or dropped a cup on the linoleum or the cat was testing the gravity again, and the pot didn't break. They'll sometimes joke that I should make my work more breakable, to get more business. Planned obsolescence, on the Detroit model.
I can't tell you how much I hate this idea. I want my pots to last. I design them to last, rounded rims that resist chipping, sturdy stoneware clay, a high-alumina glaze that wears well, even in the dishwasher. I want to be making family heirlooms.
Had a couple in the booth last Sunday looking to replace their favorite bowl (him) and mug (her). Both had met accidents after years of reliable service, and while I was sorry to hear they'd broken, I don't mind selling replacements for pieces that have lived a long and full life. I was glad to help them find new favorite pots.
But I also hear from a lot of customers about how things don't break. They banged a rim against the sink, or dropped a cup on the linoleum or the cat was testing the gravity again, and the pot didn't break. They'll sometimes joke that I should make my work more breakable, to get more business. Planned obsolescence, on the Detroit model.
I can't tell you how much I hate this idea. I want my pots to last. I design them to last, rounded rims that resist chipping, sturdy stoneware clay, a high-alumina glaze that wears well, even in the dishwasher. I want to be making family heirlooms.