My mother had ceramic figurines. She didn’t collect them, but they appeared, nonetheless. Wedding gifts, Mother’s Day gifts (yes, I was one of the offenders), birthday gifts, in they came. It must have been infuriating, but she accepted them all graciously. And like all good fifties and sixties housewives, she displayed the hideous things. From Hummels to Precious Moments to that “I wuv you” crap they sold in card stores, they all were on shelves in the living room, perched awkwardly above the monstrous console stereo and dusted weekly. Since dusting was my job, I came to loathe them very early on. And I began to associate all ceramics with terrible taste.

Katherine Mourling works in ceramics. However, her objects are so intriguing and so tasteful, I find myself wanting them. No, needing them. No small feat after the parade of uglies I was forced to dust.  Enjoy!