The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
“In my life, I see no difference between making pots, cooking, and growing vegetables. They are all so related.”—Toshiko Takaezu
A heavy frost is predicted overnight in rural Pittstown, New Jersey. It’s late April, and Max Mustardo is concerned about the damage it could do to crops in his farming community, including the budding grapes in a nearby vineyard where his fiancée, Nora, works as an assistant winemaker. The couple have known each other since grade school and share a small cottage on her family’s 120-acre (48.56 ha) grain farm, formerly a dairy farm. They aspire to continue her family’s farming legacy, exploring new opportunities to grow with the land. They just started raising chickens and hope to add water buffalo, aiming to sell their milk to a nearby Calabrian cheesemaker.
Mustardo enjoys farm labor as a counterbalance to his work at the studio of renowned 20th-century American ceramic artist, painter, sculptor, and textile artist, Toshiko Takaezu. Located just one hour from both New York City and Philadelphia, Takaezu Studio retains the world’s largest collection of the late artist’s work and remains an active studio, as she wished. Mustardo is part of a team of dozens of Takaezu’s past apprentices, students, and devotees dedicated to preserving her legacy. The team plans exhibitions with museums, gives public tours, organizes workshops, tends the gardens, and hosts two annual open houses. Mustardo is the current studio manager, helping to maintain and improve the ceramics facilities and manage the residency programs in ceramics and fiber arts.
“I’m enjoying the straightforward nature of farming projects, where I have to move and spread a huge pile of manure,” remarks Mustardo. “It’s simple and elegant, whereas studio management sometimes has more hiccups.” He shares his excitement in having recently learned how to use a bulldozer for landscaping projects, revealing, “This is an itch I’ve had since I was a three-year-old boy!”
His dedication to the farm extends to his legacy work at Takaezu’s studio, and to his vision for his own ceramic work. In fact, stewardship may very well be embedded in Mustardo’s DNA—his parents are fine art conservators who preserve photographs for future generations—and it’s at the heart of his life’s work.
Early Formative Experiences
From an early age, Mustardo’s parents instilled in him a reverence for art and artifacts. Much of his youth was spent wandering museum galleries at home and abroad, where his parents often worked. Through this exposure, Mustardo quickly observed that the art world comprises more than just artists—there are conservators, curators, auction houses, and art handlers. “The production of art is a small facet—how these objects live in the culture after they leave a studio was very interesting to me.”
Mustardo’s interest in clay began somewhat reluctantly. He enrolled in a ceramics class only after being declined from a film course in high school. Soon after, Don Fletcher, a family friend and Takaezu’s former ceramics student who now serves as the Studio’s President, introduced Mustardo to Takaezu. Her Flemington studio was located just two miles from Mustardo’s childhood home in neighboring Pittstown. “I’m very lucky to have been channeled in that direction,” he reflects. Little did he know when he first met Takaezu that she would end up influencing him so prominently, both creatively and professionally.
When he was expelled from high school in his senior year, Mustardo had already been accepted into the ceramics program at Alfred University. Reluctant to return to institutional learning right away, he took a gap year, hoping that time would allow him to be more intentional in his decision about college. Working at Takaezu’s studio during that year solidified that Alfred was, in fact, the right next step for him. He went on to get bachelor’s degrees in both art history and ceramics there.
Throughout his life, which has included living in western New York while an undergraduate, extensive travel abroad, and multiple residencies, Mustardo kept being drawn back to Takaezu’s studio. On breaks, he would return to do manual labor and gardening work. He later worked there as a studio assistant, teaching assistant, and resident, and in 2021, he took on the role of studio manager. “I would not be doing ceramics if I had not been introduced to Toshiko,” asserts Mustardo. “The effect can’t be overstated.”
Though he didn’t have much direct contact with Takaezu, she nevertheless had a profound effect on him, exemplifying that a life in clay could be both fulfilling and sustainable. Despite her prolific career as a maker, Mustardo notes that Takaezu was aware of the importance of work-life balance, something he also aspires to. “She was a well-regarded professor, cook, friend, gardener, taskmaster, and weaver. I could only aim to have such good range in addition to such resolution. I admire her very much.”
An Ongoing Interest in Alternative Surfaces
Working with mediums other than clay during his freshman year at Alfred led Mustardo to consider surfaces other than glaze for his ceramic work. He recollects welding large metal armatures and then stretching handmade paper over them. “I loved that interaction. There were things I liked doing with clay, but there were some limitations, like getting fluorescent colors and having a surface that squishes. Clay was important to me, but not the be-all, end-all.”
Mustardo was also influenced by contemporary ceramic artists Ron Nagle, Ken Price, and Peter Voulkos, all of whom experimented with surface materials other than glaze, including epoxy resin, catalyzed polyurethane, acrylic, and auto-enamel. With a grant from the ceramic engineering school to research non-ceramic surfaces on ceramic objects, Mustardo began experimenting with plastics as an alternative to glaze. “It’s been fun to expand what clay can do,” he says.
Regarding his own surfaces, Mustardo prefers they retain some mystery, though he does divulge certain details. “Texture and color are collapsed into each other in my more successful pieces,” he observes. “The color is also the texture.” For his plastic-coated series, Mustardo sprays thick layers of heavily pigmented PVC-based plastics. The thick layers result in a “fuzzy” appearance.
For protection while spraying, Mustardo wears a full Tyvek suit and respirator. Since cold weather negatively affects plastic’s curing properties, he switches to working with glazes during the winter months. Mustardo is currently recreating some of the same fuzzy surfaces he achieves with plastics using glaze. It’s been a challenge that requires lots of testing. Some glazes inflate, some melt and flow, others contract or stay stiff, and they all interact with each other during the firing. “It’s a sickness, really,” Mustardo jokes, “I spend way too much time testing glazes that I never use.” Though the glazing process can be tedious, he finds the practice itself invigorating, noting, “I learn so much about chemistry and materials while figuring out glazes I don’t have immediate use for.”
Rediscovering Old Forms
Mustardo is drawn to archetypal shapes (mug, amphora, bottle, torus) that reference history while remaining relevant in contemporary ceramics. Over the years, he has worked on a variety of series, notably: mugs, amphorae, gadroons (an ornamental motif that he refers to as “inverted fluting,” resulting in curved, bulbous forms that appear squash-like), stacks (large cylindrical forms inspired by his studies of Peter Voulkos’ Stacks), and bottles (inspired by Robert C. Turner). “I don’t want to make the same thing forever,” Mustardo emphasizes, while also noting the paradox that “searching for new forms is generally just rediscovering old forms.”
One of the most exciting aspects of working in a series is the range of possibilities that begins to emerge. As Mustardo attests, “Making work makes work.” He values time spent in what he calls “awkward experimentation” and keeps those pieces around as reminders not to impose limitations on himself. In time, these forms might present solutions or possibilities for future works. “New forms do not arrive immaculate,” he notes, “but undergo a generally slow and gradual evolution.”
Function as a Playground
Though Mustardo’s works may have functional elements (such as a lip and handle on a mug), they may not function as such. He considers them “function adjacent, or quasi-functional,” noting, “The definition of function became something to play with,” where “vessels tease their purpose but also withhold it.” Perhaps influenced by Takaezu’s signature closed sculptural forms, Mustardo is drawn to making forms that appear to be opening or closing.
Some of his works challenge our preconceived notions of objects and their functions, what Mustardo calls “identity stuff.” His interest in a particular element of a form might override the form’s intended function. For instance, with his mug series, he takes a topological approach, asking, “What is a mug besides a hole for a handle and an indent or cavity for the hypothetical containment of liquid? Now liberated, I am left to indulge in my real interest: searching for the most voluminous mug.”
The proportions of his mugs play with the bounds of those preconceived notions. “I prefer making forms that are familiar, that are anchored in either a historical tradition or something more recent,” he notes. The enduring relevance of functional objects, like the mug, is endlessly appealing. “A mug is going to be a mug in 200 years. The material may shift, but it really won’t be very different from an Egyptian mug from 2,500 years ago.”
His fascination with amphorae dates to his interest in Roman amphorae. Mustardo notes they appear “sloppily thrown, and the proportions are all over the place. They are totally undignified compared to their Greek cousins and have a more humanoid feel to them.” His own amphorae feel anthropomorphic. With exaggerated necks that seem to be folding in on themselves and handles resembling arms, they are covered in bright, highly texturized colors that highlight their silhouettes. He enjoys the scalability of the form and makes pieces ranging from five inches (12.7 cm) to five feet (1.5 m) tall.
A Quest for Wrinkles
Mustardo has long been interested in achieving the qualities of fabric in his ceramic surfaces. His current obsession is with wrinkles, which likely popped on his radar at Alfred while studying the work of Surrealist Japanese ceramic artist Yagi Kazuo.
Further inspired by studies of Greek marble, Mustardo is now exploring how to create “wrinkled glazes,” in which the surface resembles crumpled fabric. His goal is to create “macro wrinkles” large enough to be visible across a room. “It’s a fun glaze. It goes on completely smooth and comes out very wrinkly.” Mustardo explains that the glaze is inflating and contracting, both stiff and fluid. Some of the inflation gets trapped as the glaze collapses, resulting in a wrinkled appearance. Microcrystals form a skin-like sheet on the surface while the glaze remains fluid glass underneath.
While attending a recent retrospective of Takaezu’s work in Hawaii, Mustardo had the rare privilege of witnessing a volcanic eruption. The moment led to ideas for new surfaces. “Pāhoehoe is a Hawaiian term for volcanic wrinkles,” notes Mustardo. “They are exactly like what I’m trying to achieve. Mountains are basically big geological wrinkles. It’s a totally fascinating phenomenon where surface becomes form, where something flat becomes dimensional. They’re an index of time in so many ways.” His interest in wrinkled surfaces has led to a months-long research expedition—what Mustardo refers to as his “white whale” that has been its own reward. “It’s nice to have some completely unachievable goals that keep you moving forward,” he notes.
The Interplay of Form and Surface
At close inspection, Mustardo’s ceramic surfaces might conjure a mossy mound in a lush forest, budding fruit tree, or study of coral. It’s as though the pieces were left outside where lichen could propagate. They seem to be coming to life.
He coil builds with a heavily aggregated stoneware. “I was traumatized by slabs in high school,” he jokes. “I think I made something and it cracked, and I said to myself, “I’m never going to do that again!’” The clay body lends itself to a highly textured surface, which is further accentuated after sandblasting or wet exfoliation. Pieces intended for a plastic coating are then lined with glaze and fired to cone 10. After the firing, Mustardo sprays them with a pigment-saturated, PVC-based plastic, resulting in his sought-after peach-fuzz effect. Contrasting colors are applied to highlight the form’s silhouette.
Form and surface influence each other, but not all surfaces work well with all forms. Surface decisions are often dictated by how a glaze or plastic behaves on a particular piece. Plastic, even when applied thickly, will accentuate any mark, so even a small blemish will be noticeable. Therefore, works intended for plastic must be highly refined. Glaze, on the other hand, can be more forgiving, especially when applied thickly, lending itself more readily to pieces that are less refined.
When working on a new glaze, Mustardo will test it on a variety of forms. If a glaze “explodes” around crevices, he might avoid using that glaze on certain pieces, or he may make a piece that is all crevices and lean into the effect. “I feel like every project is a Hydra,” says Mustardo. “Every problem presents three or more solutions, and every solution then also splits off. It’s just unending complexity.”
Working with the Seasons
Mustardo now finds himself working in sync with the ecological cycles—farming in the summer, making work in the winter months. “Historically, I’ve been a total workaholic, spending every spare moment in the studio. So, figuring that out, stepping away from that, versus driving myself crazy, has been a good development.” Perhaps this is one of the work-life balance influences Takaezu has had on him.
As Mustardo approaches two decades of devoted work at Takaezu’s studio, “more than half my life,” he pauses as though just realizing; he reflects on the rewards of the legacy work he’s been helping to steward. Sometimes Takaezu’s influence is subtle and not immediately felt, but her way of life seems to have impacted him most directly. Mustardo makes his own body of work at Takaezu’s studio, though it can be a challenge to find time for it. “Setting aside time for my own practice is a tricky thing.” But he considers himself lucky to have a lifestyle that allows him to pivot, to give his care and attention to other interests like the studio, farm, and honing his skills with a bulldozer. “My favorite artists are the hardest working people I know,” he remarks. It’s clear that Mustardo has taken his place among them.
the author Susan McHenry, is a studio potter, teacher, and writer living in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She has an MFA in writing and literature from Bennington College. To learn more, visit susanmchenryceramics.comor follow on Instagram @susanmchenryceramics.
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
“In my life, I see no difference between making pots, cooking, and growing vegetables. They are all so related.”—Toshiko Takaezu
A heavy frost is predicted overnight in rural Pittstown, New Jersey. It’s late April, and Max Mustardo is concerned about the damage it could do to crops in his farming community, including the budding grapes in a nearby vineyard where his fiancée, Nora, works as an assistant winemaker. The couple have known each other since grade school and share a small cottage on her family’s 120-acre (48.56 ha) grain farm, formerly a dairy farm. They aspire to continue her family’s farming legacy, exploring new opportunities to grow with the land. They just started raising chickens and hope to add water buffalo, aiming to sell their milk to a nearby Calabrian cheesemaker.
Mustardo enjoys farm labor as a counterbalance to his work at the studio of renowned 20th-century American ceramic artist, painter, sculptor, and textile artist, Toshiko Takaezu. Located just one hour from both New York City and Philadelphia, Takaezu Studio retains the world’s largest collection of the late artist’s work and remains an active studio, as she wished. Mustardo is part of a team of dozens of Takaezu’s past apprentices, students, and devotees dedicated to preserving her legacy. The team plans exhibitions with museums, gives public tours, organizes workshops, tends the gardens, and hosts two annual open houses. Mustardo is the current studio manager, helping to maintain and improve the ceramics facilities and manage the residency programs in ceramics and fiber arts.
“I’m enjoying the straightforward nature of farming projects, where I have to move and spread a huge pile of manure,” remarks Mustardo. “It’s simple and elegant, whereas studio management sometimes has more hiccups.” He shares his excitement in having recently learned how to use a bulldozer for landscaping projects, revealing, “This is an itch I’ve had since I was a three-year-old boy!”
His dedication to the farm extends to his legacy work at Takaezu’s studio, and to his vision for his own ceramic work. In fact, stewardship may very well be embedded in Mustardo’s DNA—his parents are fine art conservators who preserve photographs for future generations—and it’s at the heart of his life’s work.
Early Formative Experiences
From an early age, Mustardo’s parents instilled in him a reverence for art and artifacts. Much of his youth was spent wandering museum galleries at home and abroad, where his parents often worked. Through this exposure, Mustardo quickly observed that the art world comprises more than just artists—there are conservators, curators, auction houses, and art handlers. “The production of art is a small facet—how these objects live in the culture after they leave a studio was very interesting to me.”
Mustardo’s interest in clay began somewhat reluctantly. He enrolled in a ceramics class only after being declined from a film course in high school. Soon after, Don Fletcher, a family friend and Takaezu’s former ceramics student who now serves as the Studio’s President, introduced Mustardo to Takaezu. Her Flemington studio was located just two miles from Mustardo’s childhood home in neighboring Pittstown. “I’m very lucky to have been channeled in that direction,” he reflects. Little did he know when he first met Takaezu that she would end up influencing him so prominently, both creatively and professionally.
When he was expelled from high school in his senior year, Mustardo had already been accepted into the ceramics program at Alfred University. Reluctant to return to institutional learning right away, he took a gap year, hoping that time would allow him to be more intentional in his decision about college. Working at Takaezu’s studio during that year solidified that Alfred was, in fact, the right next step for him. He went on to get bachelor’s degrees in both art history and ceramics there.
Throughout his life, which has included living in western New York while an undergraduate, extensive travel abroad, and multiple residencies, Mustardo kept being drawn back to Takaezu’s studio. On breaks, he would return to do manual labor and gardening work. He later worked there as a studio assistant, teaching assistant, and resident, and in 2021, he took on the role of studio manager. “I would not be doing ceramics if I had not been introduced to Toshiko,” asserts Mustardo. “The effect can’t be overstated.”
Though he didn’t have much direct contact with Takaezu, she nevertheless had a profound effect on him, exemplifying that a life in clay could be both fulfilling and sustainable. Despite her prolific career as a maker, Mustardo notes that Takaezu was aware of the importance of work-life balance, something he also aspires to. “She was a well-regarded professor, cook, friend, gardener, taskmaster, and weaver. I could only aim to have such good range in addition to such resolution. I admire her very much.”
An Ongoing Interest in Alternative Surfaces
Working with mediums other than clay during his freshman year at Alfred led Mustardo to consider surfaces other than glaze for his ceramic work. He recollects welding large metal armatures and then stretching handmade paper over them. “I loved that interaction. There were things I liked doing with clay, but there were some limitations, like getting fluorescent colors and having a surface that squishes. Clay was important to me, but not the be-all, end-all.”
Mustardo was also influenced by contemporary ceramic artists Ron Nagle, Ken Price, and Peter Voulkos, all of whom experimented with surface materials other than glaze, including epoxy resin, catalyzed polyurethane, acrylic, and auto-enamel. With a grant from the ceramic engineering school to research non-ceramic surfaces on ceramic objects, Mustardo began experimenting with plastics as an alternative to glaze. “It’s been fun to expand what clay can do,” he says.
Regarding his own surfaces, Mustardo prefers they retain some mystery, though he does divulge certain details. “Texture and color are collapsed into each other in my more successful pieces,” he observes. “The color is also the texture.” For his plastic-coated series, Mustardo sprays thick layers of heavily pigmented PVC-based plastics. The thick layers result in a “fuzzy” appearance.
For protection while spraying, Mustardo wears a full Tyvek suit and respirator. Since cold weather negatively affects plastic’s curing properties, he switches to working with glazes during the winter months. Mustardo is currently recreating some of the same fuzzy surfaces he achieves with plastics using glaze. It’s been a challenge that requires lots of testing. Some glazes inflate, some melt and flow, others contract or stay stiff, and they all interact with each other during the firing. “It’s a sickness, really,” Mustardo jokes, “I spend way too much time testing glazes that I never use.” Though the glazing process can be tedious, he finds the practice itself invigorating, noting, “I learn so much about chemistry and materials while figuring out glazes I don’t have immediate use for.”
Rediscovering Old Forms
Mustardo is drawn to archetypal shapes (mug, amphora, bottle, torus) that reference history while remaining relevant in contemporary ceramics. Over the years, he has worked on a variety of series, notably: mugs, amphorae, gadroons (an ornamental motif that he refers to as “inverted fluting,” resulting in curved, bulbous forms that appear squash-like), stacks (large cylindrical forms inspired by his studies of Peter Voulkos’ Stacks), and bottles (inspired by Robert C. Turner). “I don’t want to make the same thing forever,” Mustardo emphasizes, while also noting the paradox that “searching for new forms is generally just rediscovering old forms.”
One of the most exciting aspects of working in a series is the range of possibilities that begins to emerge. As Mustardo attests, “Making work makes work.” He values time spent in what he calls “awkward experimentation” and keeps those pieces around as reminders not to impose limitations on himself. In time, these forms might present solutions or possibilities for future works. “New forms do not arrive immaculate,” he notes, “but undergo a generally slow and gradual evolution.”
Function as a Playground
Though Mustardo’s works may have functional elements (such as a lip and handle on a mug), they may not function as such. He considers them “function adjacent, or quasi-functional,” noting, “The definition of function became something to play with,” where “vessels tease their purpose but also withhold it.” Perhaps influenced by Takaezu’s signature closed sculptural forms, Mustardo is drawn to making forms that appear to be opening or closing.
Some of his works challenge our preconceived notions of objects and their functions, what Mustardo calls “identity stuff.” His interest in a particular element of a form might override the form’s intended function. For instance, with his mug series, he takes a topological approach, asking, “What is a mug besides a hole for a handle and an indent or cavity for the hypothetical containment of liquid? Now liberated, I am left to indulge in my real interest: searching for the most voluminous mug.”
The proportions of his mugs play with the bounds of those preconceived notions. “I prefer making forms that are familiar, that are anchored in either a historical tradition or something more recent,” he notes. The enduring relevance of functional objects, like the mug, is endlessly appealing. “A mug is going to be a mug in 200 years. The material may shift, but it really won’t be very different from an Egyptian mug from 2,500 years ago.”
His fascination with amphorae dates to his interest in Roman amphorae. Mustardo notes they appear “sloppily thrown, and the proportions are all over the place. They are totally undignified compared to their Greek cousins and have a more humanoid feel to them.” His own amphorae feel anthropomorphic. With exaggerated necks that seem to be folding in on themselves and handles resembling arms, they are covered in bright, highly texturized colors that highlight their silhouettes. He enjoys the scalability of the form and makes pieces ranging from five inches (12.7 cm) to five feet (1.5 m) tall.
A Quest for Wrinkles
Mustardo has long been interested in achieving the qualities of fabric in his ceramic surfaces. His current obsession is with wrinkles, which likely popped on his radar at Alfred while studying the work of Surrealist Japanese ceramic artist Yagi Kazuo.
Further inspired by studies of Greek marble, Mustardo is now exploring how to create “wrinkled glazes,” in which the surface resembles crumpled fabric. His goal is to create “macro wrinkles” large enough to be visible across a room. “It’s a fun glaze. It goes on completely smooth and comes out very wrinkly.” Mustardo explains that the glaze is inflating and contracting, both stiff and fluid. Some of the inflation gets trapped as the glaze collapses, resulting in a wrinkled appearance. Microcrystals form a skin-like sheet on the surface while the glaze remains fluid glass underneath.
While attending a recent retrospective of Takaezu’s work in Hawaii, Mustardo had the rare privilege of witnessing a volcanic eruption. The moment led to ideas for new surfaces. “Pāhoehoe is a Hawaiian term for volcanic wrinkles,” notes Mustardo. “They are exactly like what I’m trying to achieve. Mountains are basically big geological wrinkles. It’s a totally fascinating phenomenon where surface becomes form, where something flat becomes dimensional. They’re an index of time in so many ways.” His interest in wrinkled surfaces has led to a months-long research expedition—what Mustardo refers to as his “white whale” that has been its own reward. “It’s nice to have some completely unachievable goals that keep you moving forward,” he notes.
The Interplay of Form and Surface
At close inspection, Mustardo’s ceramic surfaces might conjure a mossy mound in a lush forest, budding fruit tree, or study of coral. It’s as though the pieces were left outside where lichen could propagate. They seem to be coming to life.
He coil builds with a heavily aggregated stoneware. “I was traumatized by slabs in high school,” he jokes. “I think I made something and it cracked, and I said to myself, “I’m never going to do that again!’” The clay body lends itself to a highly textured surface, which is further accentuated after sandblasting or wet exfoliation. Pieces intended for a plastic coating are then lined with glaze and fired to cone 10. After the firing, Mustardo sprays them with a pigment-saturated, PVC-based plastic, resulting in his sought-after peach-fuzz effect. Contrasting colors are applied to highlight the form’s silhouette.
Form and surface influence each other, but not all surfaces work well with all forms. Surface decisions are often dictated by how a glaze or plastic behaves on a particular piece. Plastic, even when applied thickly, will accentuate any mark, so even a small blemish will be noticeable. Therefore, works intended for plastic must be highly refined. Glaze, on the other hand, can be more forgiving, especially when applied thickly, lending itself more readily to pieces that are less refined.
When working on a new glaze, Mustardo will test it on a variety of forms. If a glaze “explodes” around crevices, he might avoid using that glaze on certain pieces, or he may make a piece that is all crevices and lean into the effect. “I feel like every project is a Hydra,” says Mustardo. “Every problem presents three or more solutions, and every solution then also splits off. It’s just unending complexity.”
Working with the Seasons
Mustardo now finds himself working in sync with the ecological cycles—farming in the summer, making work in the winter months. “Historically, I’ve been a total workaholic, spending every spare moment in the studio. So, figuring that out, stepping away from that, versus driving myself crazy, has been a good development.” Perhaps this is one of the work-life balance influences Takaezu has had on him.
As Mustardo approaches two decades of devoted work at Takaezu’s studio, “more than half my life,” he pauses as though just realizing; he reflects on the rewards of the legacy work he’s been helping to steward. Sometimes Takaezu’s influence is subtle and not immediately felt, but her way of life seems to have impacted him most directly. Mustardo makes his own body of work at Takaezu’s studio, though it can be a challenge to find time for it. “Setting aside time for my own practice is a tricky thing.” But he considers himself lucky to have a lifestyle that allows him to pivot, to give his care and attention to other interests like the studio, farm, and honing his skills with a bulldozer. “My favorite artists are the hardest working people I know,” he remarks. It’s clear that Mustardo has taken his place among them.
To learn more about Max Mustardo, follow on Instagram @maxwellmustardo or visit mustardom.com. For more information on Toshiko Takaezu’s studio or residency programs, follow on Instagram @the.takaezu.studio or visit takaezustudio.com.
the author Susan McHenry, is a studio potter, teacher, and writer living in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She has an MFA in writing and literature from Bennington College. To learn more, visit susanmchenryceramics.com or follow on Instagram @susanmchenryceramics.
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