Looking Closely: The Handle
I rarely look at the handle first. It’s a definite second.
The form usually catches my eye, followed by the handle, then the surface and decoration. Eventually, though, my hand reaches for the cup, and that’s when the conversation changes.
A handle isn’t simply something attached to the side. It’s the place where the maker and the user meet.
A well-made handle doesn’t ask to be noticed. It simply feels right. Like so many things in handmade ceramics, the best decisions often become invisible because they work so well.
The next time you pick up a handmade cup, pause for a moment before you drink.
Notice whether the handle feels generous or restrained. Does it feel confident? Does it disappear in your hand?
The more closely you look, the more you’ll discover that every handle reveals something about the person who made it.
Feel the contours and edges.
How many fingers fit inside the handle—one, two, or three?
Consider what the maker intended.
Then notice whether you hold it that way, or whether you’ve discovered your own way.
Then comes the question that interests me most.
As weeks become months, which cup do you reach for first?
Often, it isn’t the most colorful or the most elaborate. It’s the one that fits your hand.
Where is it right now? On a shelf? Beside the sink? In the dishwasher?
The cups we love are rarely the ones we think about. They’re the ones our hands remember.
Looking Closely is an ongoing series exploring handmade ceramics through the eyes of an artist, curator, collector, and maker.
Next in the series: The Rim
