With a bit of pot luck

Gleaming cups, blue vases, mosquito coil dishes... the history of The Potter’s Shed is as interesting as its creations

poytters

Everything in the hills seems to sniff suspiciously of serendipity, and the story of The Potter’s Shed is no less providential. In the seventies, Doveton’s Studio was in this quarter, where we would go to process our film, and Potter’s Shed did not even exist. Now, a coop of quaint shops nestles one above the other.

Potter’s Shed is perched like a tree house on stilts, overlooking PT road. I wander straight into an excited exchange between a willowy young woman Sunayana Arun and Jayashree Kumar, both trustees at the shop. Sunaina rushes off to buy brooms for the store, while I try to settle into a conversation with Kumar, who gets a spate of phone calls. On the shelves, in pale to bright blues, earth tones of ochre, copper and browns to creamy whites, the pottery has a life of its own.

The beginning

It all started in the 1990s when Bob Granner came from America to teach English at the Kodaikanal International School. Kumar, a Kodai resident, and Granner were both involved with an organisation as orphanage trustees, and they had a common vision. “We were two people who wanted to do something more, something that was long term and sustainable.” And then, Bob saw a potter in the village of Kallupatti in the lower Ghats.

Kumar recollects with a laugh, “He liked the way the potter’s hands moved on the wheel.” Aside of being a writer and a teacher, Granner is a musician who plays the piano and the organ; he embraces life at many levels. Meanwhile, Kumar chanced upon an article in a design magazine on Deborah Smith, Ray Meeker and Golden Bridge Pottery. It was akin to divine intervention when Granner walked into Kumar’s home and boomed, “Why don’t we start a pottery....?”

Trustees Sunayana, Jayashree Kumar and Sonny Deenadayal at The Potters' Shed

 

They did just that. They roped in the young potter Subramaniam, whom Granner had met while he was making earthen pots for his livelihood. Granner requested Ray and Deborah to take him on as an apprentice. They intervened whole-heartedly. For three years, Subramaniam trained at Golden Bridge in Puducherry, and Granner generously contributed to several start-up expenses. Eventually, the group started a trust and land was located in Pallangi. “Ray himself built the kiln for the unit with the potters assisting him,” says Kumar. “Ray and Deborah also gave us patterns for making glazed stoneware and the recipes for the glazes.”

The Potters Shed today has five trustees, including Kumar and Arun. Now retired, Bob Granner continues as the patron of the concern. It also has three new entrants. Smith continues as advisor and curator.

On the shelves are stocked gleaming cups, blue vases, speckled serving dishes, exquisite pots with lids and ubiquitous mugs. “We do get designs from our customers, like this mosquito coil dish we created from a sample someone brought from Africa, but I always ask Deborah. She has an inherent sense of what will actually work,” says Kumar. The shop has several unique designs, such as a chapathi dish with a lid and big fat blue jars with lids. There are also the one-cup-of-tea pots, adorable for both form and presence.

From the heart of the kiln in Pallangi, more than a wisp of smoke curls out and lingers with the mist. The hillsides have been a seat of inspiration for people then and now, and Kumar is on a fresh trail. “We have always had artistes in residence here, who have stayed for a month to six weeks, using the kiln to do their own work. They also taught our potters.”

potter's

 

The dream of The Potter’s Shed has spun a constant spirit of giving in creative ways. The profits go to young school children from disadvantaged families, towards their tuition and annual medical check-ups.

But why The Potter’s Shed? Kumar remembers to tell me just as I leave. “The name came about because Bob wanted to retain the idea of humble origins from the earth.”