Cylinder vase, red blush glaze

Thrown straight and a touch barrel-bellied, with the throwing lines left where the fingers put them, you can read the whole climb of the pot in them.

Over a speckled body, a white glaze that breaks fine and grainy, and two drifts of red that pool deep and glassy at their centres and go to a lilac fizz at their edges. They sit on opposite sides, one high and one low, so the pot is a different thing depending on which way you set it down.

Small enough for a fistful of dried grasses, and steady enough to hold them.