Sometime in the past year, Brooklyn potter Helen Levi began making her popular Desert Tumblers, which evoke a kind of faded, windswept, Southwestern landscape by marbling white porcelain with sandy red clay. But the funny thing is, until this summer, New York–born Levi had never even been to the desert. “I’d been wanting to go to New Mexico since high school,” she says. “That landscape has always been kind of a dreamy thought, but my tumblers were based on my imagination of a place I’d never seen.” This summer, Levi decided to bite the bullet, taking a month off from work to road trip 7,000 miles — all the way to Albuquerque and back — making sure to stop along the way at places like the Pittsburgh factory where her clay is made and leaving enough time to simply wander off the road in search of this country’s vast natural beauty.
She brought along her dog Billy, met up for a spell fellow potter Clair Catillaz of Clam Lab, and drove the last 10 days with her boyfriend. But other than that, Levi was mostly alone: “I met a lot of local potters and dug up clay from the ground. There were a few stops that were certain. I’d already wanted to visit Pittsburgh because I was curious; I use these materials every day but don’t know how they’re made or who makes them. Other than that, it was pretty loosey-goosey, which is what was so fun about it. I remember driving with Clair and we saw a sign that said “Pottery.” We pulled off the road and there’s this barefoot guy. If I’d been alone, I probably wouldn’t have pulled into a strange man’s property. But because I was with Clair, we felt comfortable. His sister lived on the property, too, and they’d built the house together. She had written on a chalkboard sign, “Happy hour, 5:00.” My New York self might have been like this is a weird situation. But it wasn’t at all; they were the nicest people who we ended up having more in common with than we would have thought. That’s the beauty of a road trip – sometimes you make a turn and there’s nothing there. Sometimes you end up staying for two hours, talking about <I>Game of Thrones</I>.”
“The first stop on my trip was in Pittsburgh at the factory for Standard Ceramic (shown above), which is the clay I use
most in my studio. They told me their supplier of ball clay, a main ingredient in clay, was based in Mayfield,
Kentucky, so I swung by on my way back to New York.”
“Ball clay is dug up all around Kentucky and Tennessee, and local people send in samples from their property to have tested see if they have it in their land. This is a picture of one of their warehouses.”
“This is one of the machines in the main processing area for the Mayfield company. Literally everything in there looks pastel
because it’s all covered with a layer of dust.”
“Far western Nebraska, land of the longhorn cattle. The most beautiful cows.”
“In Omaha, Nebraska, a hawk downtown chilling on a pickup truck. If you look closely you can see a pigeon in his talons.”
“The long weekend that Clair from Clam Lab was with me meant stopping and digging around for clay wherever we wanted.
Silverton is an old gold mining town and this cliff overlooked one of our pit stops. I’m in the testing phase for incorporating
this gold colored dirt into my ceramics.
“Great Sand Dunes National Park in Mosca, Colorado. The most stunning place. Huge sand dunes deposited at the
base of mountains. Clair and I had camped the night before and due to a middle of the night windstorm, we were up at 6AM so got to explore the dunes before the crowds came.”
“Near the sand dunes I met a friend working on a bison ranch. She took me around the old, decrepit and perhaps haunted
buildings where the bison roam that used to be ranch hand housing. There were barn swallows everywhere
and some intact wallpaper.”
“I took this picture after a really hot afternoon driving around southwestern Colorado. We had no phone service but Clair and I had each brought our own atlas and
were driving around trying to find a lake to go to. The climate there is so wild because we drove ten miles and suddenly we were on top of a mountain and we could see snowcaps in the distance and it was too
cold to swim. Not for Billy, though.”
“I’ve been making these desert tumblers since last winter, and the color palatte is inspired by the
Southwest, which is a place I’ve romanticized and wanted to visit since I was in high school. I drove around New Mexico for a week on my trip and pulled over whenever I saw that red earth
I had in mind when I made this cup. I took this one in Abiquiu.”
“A highlight of the trip was visiting Felipe Ortega near Taos, New Mexico. He works with micaceous clay, which he digs for all around his property. It’s shimmery without any glaze due to all the mica in it. These are a few less important
pots sitting around outside his house. Like a lot of desert houses, inside and outside blend together.”
“This shows some of the steps for processing the micaceous clay. Felipe has apprentices who turn the clay from
what looks like dirt into usable clay. In order to stay on, they have to dig 1000 lbs of clay in each trip. These
are big beds that allow the clay and water to separate through the sheet.”
“A surprising number of roadside shops in New Mexico had signs that said, ‘Turn here! We’re open!’ and in fact were shuttered.
I obviously followed the sign for RUGS & POTTERY for several miles before arriving here.”
“Somewhere in Northeastern New Mexico I pulled over for this purple field, an infinity of flowers.”
“Las Vegas, New Mexico is a little hot springs town not far from Santa Fe. This was the view after
dinner as I walked back to my car.
“Of all the pictures I took during my monthlong trip, this is my favorite. We were driving near Taos, New Mexico, where sagebrush was all around,
and I spotted a huge collector’s pile of bright junk cars, including a school bus. It was starting to rain and the clouds were dramatic,
changing from sunny desert to thunderstorm.”
“My friend Lindsay from Stanley & Sons tipped me to check out the weavers in Chimayo, New Mexico,
which was an amazing stop. I took this picture in an 8th generation weaving shop there. I loved the border on this rug which was a recreation of a more uncommon Native American pattern.”
“It turns out I feel about cows the way some people feel about horses. I pulled over all the time. I spotted
these ones after a very long few hours in eastern Arkansas where we passed nearly nothing on the side of the road. Baby cows usually would look at me a bit longer than the grown-ups.”
“On the drive back to New York I wanted to go through the Ozarks, which was another kind of mythical landscape to me. I visited one local potter, who built this giant Japanese-style kiln on his property. He fires it only once a year, and the firing requires constant attention for 10-12 days. It takes him six months just to collect enough wood to fuel the fire.”
“After visiting his studio I asked him if he knew of any swimming holes we could go to, and he said sure,
but he’d have to take us himself or we’d get lost. We drove for ten minutes down a dirt road and through
the trees I could see an incredible blue-green creek. There were a lot of moments on the trip where connecting to a local person was the only way I experienced something really special, and this was the perfect example of that.”
If, like us, you began hearing the name Helen Levi only a few months ago — well, there’s a pretty good reason for it. At this time last year, Levi was balancing four part-time jobs, working as a photo assistant, a pottery teacher, a bartender and a waitress. “I’d been doing pottery since I was a little kid, but mostly gifts or for myself,” she told me when I visited her Greenpoint studio last month. “It’s the dream to be able to make stuff you want to make and have that support you, but I never really thought that was possible.” Then, at a random cocktail event last fall at one of the Steven Alan shops in Manhattan, Levi met the man himself: “I met Steven Alan by chance and was telling him about my work, and he was like, ‘Send it to me.’ I didn’t even have one photograph!” Levi laughs. “But once I met him, it was the spark. I quit all my other jobs and I just tried to do this. Maybe it doesn’t work out and I go back to balancing four things, but it didn’t take a huge investment of money. And so far it’s working.”
The brief itself was simple: Design and build something to sit on. It was the execution part that was hard. From April 16–21, four sets of young American furniture designers each took a turn in the open studios at New York’s Museum of Arts and Design, each with a single purpose: to build and assemble a chair from start to finish, between the time the museum opened at 9AM to the minute the last straggler was ushered out the door at 6. The designers could use any materials they chose, and they were allowed to make preliminary design studies or prototypes before arriving at the museum, but the bulk of the construction work had to be executed on the museum’s 6th floor — in full view of school tours, visiting tourists, families, and itinerant design geeks who wanted a peek at the action. But the exercise wasn’t some reality show–like competition to pit designers against each other or to see whose design would reign supreme. The event was part of The Home Front, a museum project curated by Surface editor Dan Rubinstein, who spearheaded the whole thing in order explore in-depth the business of being a designer in America today.
When The Future Perfect abandoned its original Brooklyn location last summer, we thought we might never feel the need to shop on that particular block of Williamsburg again. The Future Perfect's gorgeous digs got turned into a Gant, and for years we've felt we were a little too old for American Apparel. But come next Thursday, we'll be making that trek on the L train again: Urban Outfitters is opening a concept shop on North Sixth Street called Space Ninety 8, complete with rotating gallery spaces, a restaurant, a rooftop bar, and, of course, clothing. But the draw for us will be located smack in the front window. That's where a showcase called Local Made will take place, curated by Urban's director of brand relations and special projects Marissa Maximo, who scoured the borough, commissioning exclusives from some of our favorite designers.