My Story
Pottery has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
I grew up surrounded by clay, kilns, pottery wheels, and the creative energy of my parents, who were both accomplished potters. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of sitting on my dad's lap at the pottery wheel, learning to throw at an age when I was far too young to understand what I was learning. I just knew that I loved the feeling of clay spinning beneath my hands.
My mom taught me in her own way. I spent time in the studio helping her make ducks, glazing pieces, and doing whatever I could to be part of the process. I also grew up traveling with my parents to art shows throughout the West. Being surrounded by their work and meeting other artists gave me an appreciation for handmade things that has stayed with me my entire life.
My dad, Roger Lynn Davis (1941–2022), originally studied architecture at the University of Utah. After returning home from the Vietnam War, he discovered that changes to the university's architectural program would have extended his master's studies longer than he had anticipated. Instead, he made a change that would shape the rest of his life, he turned his attention to ceramics.
Over the years, my dad developed a distinctive body of ceramic work and became known for his whimsical stoneware sculptures. His work included the beloved Flight of the Phoenix collection, also known as the Lame Duck Aviator series. He eventually established The Village Duck Works, where his creativity and love of ceramics continued to grow.
Although pottery was always a part of my childhood, I stepped away from the wheel for about 20 years and worked as an administrator. Then, after my dad passed away in 2022, a dear friend asked me if I would join her pottery class.
I will forever be grateful that she did.
That class reminded me just how much I loved throwing. Sitting at the wheel again felt familiar, almost like coming home. It brought back the memories of spending time in the studio with my dad. It also made me want to create something of my own while carrying a little piece of where I came from with me.
My bird feeders are an ode to my parents.
The shapes are inspired by the ceramic "eggs" my parents used to make, and each one is a small connection to the pottery world I grew up in. I love the idea that something I create can bring birds into someone's garden while also carrying a piece of my family's story.
But the bird feeders aren't the only pieces that connect me to my dad.
The larger bowls I throw are challenging for me, and I make them in honor of my dad. They push me to be patient, to pay attention to the clay, and to keep learning. There is something meaningful about sitting at the same wheel he once used and challenging myself to make something that isn't easy.
I am especially drawn to throwing my skinny-necked vases. They are technically challenging, and I keep coming back to them because they make me stretch my skills and try again when something doesn't work. My dad was always challenging himself creatively and technically, and I think of that whenever I sit down to make one. If something is difficult, it makes me want to keep trying.
In 2013, my family purchased my childhood home in Highland, Utah. Today, I feel incredibly grateful to be creating there again, using the same pottery wheel and kiln that my dad once used.
Every time I sit down at the wheel, I feel connected to my dad, and the memories that first made me fall in love with clay. What I make today is inspired by all of those years—the lessons I learned as a child, the beauty of handmade pottery, and the simple joy of creating something with my own hands.
These pieces are more than something I make. They are a way for me to carry my family's love of pottery forward.
I hope that when one of my pieces finds its way into your home or garden, you feel a little bit of the story behind it—and a little bit of the love that went into making it.