Hand-built reclaimed stoneware | approximately 8" tall × 5" diameter | Not food safe
Nell has a book she's been meaning to finish for three weeks. She's not behind — she's savoring.
She's the one at the party who arrives a little late, stands near the snack table for longer than necessary, and then ends up in a two-hour conversation with someone's grandmother about perennial gardens and the best way to pit a cherry. Everyone leaves wishing they'd spent more time talking to Nell. Nell leaves hoping she didn't talk too much.
Her bowl is glazed in Overcast — a soft blue-grey with real depth to it, patches of grey-green drifting across the surface like clouds on a slow July afternoon. The kind of sky that makes you want to lie in the grass with something cold to drink and nowhere particular to be. Her feathers are a pink so pale it's nearly white, like the inside of a seashell, like the first light before the sun commits to rising. Her legs are bare warm clay all the way to the ground — no glaze, no fuss. Nell does not fuss.
She would like a porch. She would like lemonade, a good novel, and to be left to her own devices for a few hours. She is not antisocial. She simply knows what she likes.
Nell is hand-built from reclaimed stoneware — a mix of every clay body in the studio, invented out of necessity and better for it. No two Flock pieces share quite the same material history. Nell's history is warm, a little quiet, and very good company once you get to know her.
One of a kind. Nell exists only once, and she's perfectly fine with that.
Hand-built reclaimed stoneware | approximately 8" tall × 5" diameter | Not food safe
Nell has a book she's been meaning to finish for three weeks. She's not behind — she's savoring.
She's the one at the party who arrives a little late, stands near the snack table for longer than necessary, and then ends up in a two-hour conversation with someone's grandmother about perennial gardens and the best way to pit a cherry. Everyone leaves wishing they'd spent more time talking to Nell. Nell leaves hoping she didn't talk too much.
Her bowl is glazed in Overcast — a soft blue-grey with real depth to it, patches of grey-green drifting across the surface like clouds on a slow July afternoon. The kind of sky that makes you want to lie in the grass with something cold to drink and nowhere particular to be. Her feathers are a pink so pale it's nearly white, like the inside of a seashell, like the first light before the sun commits to rising. Her legs are bare warm clay all the way to the ground — no glaze, no fuss. Nell does not fuss.
She would like a porch. She would like lemonade, a good novel, and to be left to her own devices for a few hours. She is not antisocial. She simply knows what she likes.
Nell is hand-built from reclaimed stoneware — a mix of every clay body in the studio, invented out of necessity and better for it. No two Flock pieces share quite the same material history. Nell's history is warm, a little quiet, and very good company once you get to know her.
One of a kind. Nell exists only once, and she's perfectly fine with that.
