Found Pottery Pieces Inspire a Washington Designer to Consider the Shelf Life of Our Existence

When the big earthquake comes, and with it a tsunami, I have a list of things I’d take with me in my go bag. Obviously the main thing is just to get out of the house with my husband and kids as fast as possible. But if we have 10 extra minutes, I’d grab my grandmother’s jewelry, a couple pieces of art, and these blue-and-white pottery shards. I think they might have been thrown overboard around a century ago by lumber ships coming and going from Bainbridge Island, where my husband and I live and have our design studio, Grain. The island used to have one of the largest sawmills in the world.

During the pandemic, my family and I were trying to spend as much time outside as possible, so we’d spend hours looking for the pieces of pottery, which have beautiful patterning, on the beach. It became a spiritual practice for us. As we walked back and forth, the act of deep focus on the textures of the beach kept us off our devices and the terrifying news of the day. It was a form of meditation, and I continue to find it so soothing.

I don’t know the history of these shards, except that some are from the early 20th century, but that’s what makes them interesting—they make you wonder about the past and also think about the future. As designers, my husband and I are constantly trying to expand our imagination around our products, thinking both forward and backward. Where did our materials come from, and how did they get to us? What will happen to our pieces during our lifetime and in future generations? The shards remind me that we have to imagine different ways of creating and consuming. We have to think deeply about the life cycle of our objects.

At the same time, they remind me of being with my family and the spark of pleasure that objects can bring us. It’s a sense of awe that makes you want to hold on to something and treasure it.

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