How I Create My Lovable Gnome Mugs

Make the mug

I place a ball of clay in the middle of my potter’s wheel. As I press down on my foot pedal (vroom, vroom!), the wheel spins and my idea begins to take shape. After playing in the clay for a bit, I often end up with a piece I like. Next, I slice it off with a wire — because it’s stuck to the wheel with its gooey wetness — and place it on a shelf to dry. I repeat this process about 20 times. While the cups are drying, I roll out a sheet of clay with my rolling pin (not the one from my kitchen) and create 20 handles. Once they’ve had a little time to dry, I attach them to the cups. (I’m oversimplifying this to keep you awake.) The next day, I clean them up (again, sparing you the gory details) to make them ready for the next step. 

Paint the mug

Once the cups are totally dry (about a week), they’re at their most fragile and brittle. No bumping. No clanking. And for the love of God, no sneezing.

Because life is never simple, this is the stage at which I do the most work on the cup.

Whatever silly gnome is in my head now has to be extracted out and hand-painted onto that fragile bare cup. 

Three coats of each color later … 

If I’m going to somehow break the cup, this is when it will happen (after most of the work is done, not before).

Cook the mug

After I’ve hand-painted about 40 cups, I super, super carefully stack them in my big special oven — aka, kiln — close the lid and cook/kiln fire them gently for 7 hours at 1,915 degrees. (Yes, 1,915.) After they’re cooked, the kiln takes about 24 hours or so to cool down enough for me to open it without losing my eyebrows. (Don’t ask me how I know this.) I then dip the cups into my big bucket of glaze using a pair of tongs and put them back in the kiln to cook them again. This time, at 2,165 degrees. The clear glaze makes them glossy and durable so you can put ‘em in the oven, the microwave and even the dishwasher. (That’s right. Even the dishwasher.) These babies are sturdy.