Noticing Encounters
Being Open to What Shows Up Unexpectedly.
At shows, I’ve learned more from random conversations with customers than from most pottery books. Someone mentions they used a mug I made for ten years until it finally cracked. That teaches me about durability and how people actually use the work. Someone else asks why I don’t make matching sets. That forces me to articulate my philosophy about handmade variation. Another person tells me about a potter they knew in Vermont who did something similar with texture. That’s a lead to research, a connection to make, a conversation to pursue.
Not every strange encounter leads somewhere useful. Most don’t. But you can’t know which ones matter until you engage. The cost of being wrong is a few minutes of your time. The cost of being closed off is missing the brick supplier, the technique, the story, the connection that could change your work.
There’s something about unexpected conversations that opens doors you didn’t know existed. At the spring show, someone asked about the milk glazing technique. I explained how I soak bisque-fired pots in warm milk then fire to 600°F. They mentioned their grandmother used to preserve wood with milk paint the same way. That conversation led me to research historical milk treatments, which led to trying maple syrup drips from Back Road Maple, which became a whole new direction for the work. None of that happens if I just smile and say “it’s a special technique” and move on.
I’m not saying engage with everyone who shows up. Safety matters. Trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it probably is. But if it just feels unexpected, if it’s a strange encounter that’s merely unusual rather than unsafe, that’s when you should pay attention. Those are often the moments when new ideas slip in through the cracks in your routine.
I think about this in the context of the artist’s journey. Joseph Campbell talks about the helper who appears when the hero needs them. Sometimes that helper looks like Athena descending from Olympus. Sometimes it looks like a customer at a show who mentions their grandmother’s milk paint technique. Sometimes it’s the person who tells you about a wood kiln builder two counties over. Sometimes it’s just someone saying “I used your mug for ten years” which reminds you that the work matters beyond the moment you make it.
Those moments don’t happen if you stay closed off. They don’t happen if you’re too busy or too suspicious or too focused on the plan to notice when something unexpected shows up. The artist’s journey isn’t a straight line. It’s full of detours and strange encounters and helpers who appear when you need them. Your job is to be open to them when they arrive.
At the gallery volunteer day recently, I spent time talking with other potters about their work. One showed me her fingerprints on the bottoms of pots, an unglazed spot where she held them while dipping. That simple conversation changed how I think about personal marks on work. I’d been trying to hide my fingerprints. She was celebrating hers. That’s a shift in philosophy from a five-minute conversation with someone I’d just met.
The strange encounters aren’t always about technique or business. Sometimes they’re about why we do this at all. Someone at a show told me they bought one of my bowls after a hard year because they needed something beautiful that was made by human hands. They needed to know someone cared enough to make something well. I think about that when I’m throwing at midnight after a factory shift and wondering if any of this matters. It does. The strange encounter reminded me.
Running a small pottery business in rural Pennsylvania means you can’t afford to turn away opportunities just because they arrive unexpectedly. That person who asks an odd question might lead to a wholesale account. The customer who mentions a technique might change your whole approach to glazing. The potter at the gallery might become a friend who helps you think through problems. Or they might just buy a mug and leave. Either way, something happened because you were open to it.
Not every conversation is profound. Most aren’t. Someone asks where the bathroom is. Someone wants to know if you take credit cards. Someone tells you about their cousin who also makes pottery. Those conversations don’t lead anywhere except polite social interaction. That’s fine. The cost of engaging is small. The cost of missing the one conversation that matters is huge.
I’ve noticed that the strange encounters often happen when I’m tired or busy or not in the mood to talk. That’s when someone asks the question that makes me think differently. That’s when the unexpected connection shows up. If I only engaged when I felt like it, I’d miss most of the good ones. The helpers don’t wait for convenient times. They show up when they show up.
The artist’s journey requires openness. Not naivety. Not ignoring your instincts when something feels wrong. But genuine openness to the unexpected, to the people who show up in your booth or your studio or your life without warning. Those strange encounters are often the helpers Joseph Campbell talked about. They’re part of the journey. Your job is to notice them when they arrive.
If I were living yesterday a second time: I would have asked that potter’s name who showed me her fingerprints instead of just thanking her and moving on.
Things I am grateful for: The conversation about handmade variation that forced me to articulate my philosophy. The reminder that people need beautiful things made by human hands.
Days remaining if I live to 86: 12,698
What strange encounter did you have this week that you dismissed too quickly? Who showed up unexpectedly that you didn’t give enough attention to? What helper appeared that you didn’t recognize until later?
My Journals on Amazon:
My Pottery Firings: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CDZ2D6ZQ
My Pottery Journal: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CDNMNRX7
My Pottery Projects: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CD164HJK
Originally published at Creek Road Pottery
Founding Member Offer: $50/year or $5/month — Locked in forever.
Regular Rate (after May 27, 2026): $60/year or $6/month.
Connect with Creek Road Pottery LLC:
Website | Shop | The Pin Tool Podcast | Instagram | Facebook | Bluesky