In 2001, my husband, Ron, and I had been married twenty-five years. He was always genuinely supportive of my infatuation with clay and pottery, acting as my helper at craft fairs.
A practical man, he would see life in black and white, so his business wheels were always turning. His words of advice made sense— then and now.
“Glor, you love to make pottery. Why not make something useful, like cremation urns?”
I immersed myself in my new project, creating authentic and artistic urns, using a process called Raku. Firing outdoors in a special kiln, it is a more earthy process than firing in an electrically-controlled kiln. When the kiln reaches a temperature of about 1800 degrees, pieces are carefully removed with tongs and placed in a metal can, lined with combustible material. This causes flames to dramatically engulf the pottery. The can is covered quickly to cause an environment of reduction (reducing the oxygen), thereby creating beautiful colors and effects with the glazes.
To use this adapted Western version of Raku, we converted my very first little electric kiln (circa 1950), bought some trash cans and protective gear, and we were ready to go! The process required two people, and who else but Ron, who made the suggestion in the first place, to be my assistant? It was a perfect fit.
The results were just as intended— stunning artistic urns— but they were not very practical in shape or size. I showed them for display and didn’t give them much more thought as I continued to learn, experiment and create other works.
Fast forward to November 2015, when I was participating in a fundraising event at my friend Giovanna’s café in Ramsey, New Jersey, to help feed the hungry. I was excited to unveil a new collection of little angels with halos. Each time someone purchased one, we would ring a bell (like in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life), the proceeds going directly to feed a local family.
What we didn’t know at the time was that my beloved husband was dying from pancreatic cancer. Needless to say, pottery was put to the side and Ron’s health came first. He faced his cancer with strength and dignity. In less than eleven months, he would be an angel himself.
Brokenhearted, I relocated from our home in New York and moved to New Jersey, not touching my clay for about ten months.
A thought came to me as naturally as a rose bud unfolding, or a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. It was an easy progression for me, forming the thoughts and passionately bringing my clay together with the love in my heart from losing Ron. I couldn’t bring him back, but I could create a beautiful urn for him. When I mentioned it to a few friends, they asked if I could make something for their loved ones who had passed— and so it began.
Lovely Urns are artistic urns inspired by nature and people, along with the love that we have for them. Working late nights and early mornings around a regular workday, I proceeded to develop a few varieties. I’ve reworked old ideas and designs, incorporated them into urns that are taller and more functional for its purpose using stoneware clay and firing it in my electric kiln.
When I am creating a new piece, I am thinking of a loved one who will be forever treasured in that piece— just as they were— unique and one-of-a-kind.
It brings me great joy to have the ability to create and share it with the world. Working with clay and starting this company is the process of my healing. Nothing replaces that part of the heart that breaks off when our loved ones leave this earth, but for me, creating artistic urns from my wheel helps me to move forward in life as well.
I hope to get back to creating more Raku urns one day ....as you know, they hold a special place in my heart.
“When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.” — Rabindranath Tagore
