The first thing on my mind when I wake up every morning is coffee. The thought of a fresh cup is what motivates me to peel off the covers and brave the stiff, chilly shuffle to the kitchen. I dump a scoop of whole beans into the grinder, endure its cacophony for exactly 30 seconds, and transfer the powdered contents to the espresso machine’s filter basket. I can smell it already. Tamp, tamp, tamp. Drop the basket into the portafilter, place the portafilter in the espresso machine, a swift yank to the right. It’s go-time! I hit a series of buttons and the machine rumbles and groans; it’s waking up with me. After just a few seconds, a dark velvety cloud swells underneath the filter and, unable to contain itself, plunges down into my espresso cup in multiple ribbons. Over the course of a minute, the streams find each other and combine into one solid cascade, all the while transforming from a deep chocolate color to an enticing foamy caramel. The cup is full and steam rises to my nostrils as the sounds of the machine dissipate. That first sip hits the back of my throat, the warmth spreading through my body, and with a jolt my day has begun.
The way a person wakes up can have a ripple effect on the whole day ahead of them, and an assertive cup of coffee always sets me on the right path. The process of preparing coffee is a gentle crescendo. It’s calming, and then it’s invigorating. Beginning the day with a coffee ritual is how I attempt a proper start, and this espresso cup and saucer is my love letter to get the day going.
Chunky Saucer
I began exploring making my own espresso cup and saucer forms three years ago. My initial curiosity sprung from my desire to make an object that rejected the premise that good pots have walls whose thickness is perfectly even.
Without any specific function in mind, I began throwing objects on the wheel with interior curves that were mirrored on the outside of the form. I threw thick and trimmed away to create opposing convex lines. I articulated interior shapes that contradicted the exteriors until finally, I settled on an object that reminded me of a saucer. This saucer felt bulky and fluffy, and it was begging for a companion object to nestle down in its pillowy embrace.
Using a substantial amount of clay to make relatively small objects provides support during the throwing process and is later trimmed away into a precise and narrow foot (1). I begin by centering 11/2 pounds (680 g) of clay for the saucer (2). When articulating the shapes on the top of the saucer, I support the rim from the bottom and push down with some force to ensure a gradual, convex line from center to rim (3). My goal is a repeated form. I am always sure to step back and view the pots in comparison to each other to ensure consistent size and shape (4).
Using (Making) the Right Tools
As I dove headfirst into problem solving an espresso cup to pair with my new saucer form, my hands led the way, but choosing which tools to use had a noticeable influence on how the composition progressed. In theory, an artist should be able to produce any pot they can conceive using just their unique hand/brain combination in conjunction with the classic pottery tool starter kit. However, I found that a deep consideration for one’s tools yields a noticeably more considered final design. With so many tools available, creating one’s own presents opportunities for fresh, unique, and intentional riffs on familiar shapes. The tools I have created, paired with a few store-bought favorites, directly contributed to the development of my espresso cup and saucer form.
I made some to perform specific tasks, like my tension-bound miniature bow tool (see below) meant to slice precisely through small pieces of clay. I made others before their use was considered. For instance, my squat quarter-of-a-bean-shaped metal rib was created because I found the rounded arch visually compelling and later discovered that it created a perfectly sloped cup interior.
Tools occupy the negative space surrounding the pot during the making process. The fully fired pot then becomes a tool and occupies the negative space of the user’s body. My vision of a pot and the tools I use to execute that vision are in constant conversation, one informing and progressing the other.
Well-Paired Cup
To form the cup, I use 1 1/4 pounds (567 g) of clay (5) and shape the interior with the proper volume and slope (6). Though the form is simple, there are a few key details that I pay attention to in order to ensure consistency. Producing roughly the same-sized pot each time is crucial to creating sets. Rather than remembering a list of arbitrary numbers to get the widths and heights of each component correct, I rely on a set of tools that I am almost certain will not change or get lost, my hands. When freshly thrown, the cup stands four knuckles high and one hand wide, and a saucer is the width of eight knuckles across. The cup seating on the saucer is three fingers wide and corresponds to the foot, which is also trimmed to three fingers wide. This technique has not only saved me countless precious minutes not searching for and wiping down a ruler, but it also ensures that my pots feel for and of my body, as they are made in direct relation to it.
Handle
I create the handle by rolling a tapered coil and gently bending it in half. I prefer to use dryer clay so that cracks begin forming on the surface as I bend the clay (7). Using my handmade miniature bow tool, I slice off the excess clay at an angle that corresponds to the side of the cup (8). Finally, using the bottommost part of my palm, I create a broad surface and apply even pressure to create a solid attachment (9).
Final Thoughts
I did not set out to spend three years refining an espresso cup and saucer. Over the years, my interest in the form has shifted. It began with perfecting the formal components of each object. Now, I can’t help but ruminate on how these objects physically interact with each other. Much like the way a sip of espresso is itself a warm embrace, the pudgy yet delicate porcelain cup settles down into its stoneware partner, cradled safely. The saucers’ substantial presence does not overshadow, but rather complements the thick, sloping articulation of the cup rim. The squishiness of the handle competes with the plush saucer.
The most important part of these pots is the user experience. They are visually and physically heavy, generating a haptic interaction that is best understood through use. They feel dense, but balanced, sturdy, and secure. These pots are solid. There is no fear that a pre-caffeinated person might lose control before their first sip.
While troubleshooting this form years ago, I quickly ran into a problem. Like any good potter, I took my new design home with me to put its practicality and functionality to the test. I placed my cup and saucer on the counter, grabbed my beans, looked up, and dang, no espresso machine! No buttons to program, no caffeinated ribbons lazily filling my cup, no intoxicating first sips. Despite my Chemex pourover, an inherited generic drip machine, and an Aeropress that gets me fairly close, nothing in my kitchen can provide what I described earlier. I don’t actually have a way to produce that silken, concentrated stream and rich top layer of crema in my house—it’s just a fantasy. As I stared at the empty counter space, hoping Nespresso products would materialize, I found myself wondering, “If I can’t even use these espresso cups properly, why bother making them?” Perhaps I’m making them because it feels aspirational. I don’t have the means or permanence to justify investing in such a luxurious item, but I might one day. Coffee is coffee, what you do with it makes it impactful. So, I make these pots just in case. Just in case I live somewhere that is permanent. Just in case I have financial stability. Just in case I am able to create that perfect morning for myself every single morning. Just in case.
Marlaina Lutz began working with clay while pursuing a bachelor’s degree at Marymount Manhattan College in New York City. After graduating in 2016, Lutz was the assistant manager of Gasworks NYC, in Brooklyn, New York. Lutz attended Utah State University and earned her MFA in 2023. She is currently a long-term resident at Red Lodge Clay Center.
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The first thing on my mind when I wake up every morning is coffee. The thought of a fresh cup is what motivates me to peel off the covers and brave the stiff, chilly shuffle to the kitchen. I dump a scoop of whole beans into the grinder, endure its cacophony for exactly 30 seconds, and transfer the powdered contents to the espresso machine’s filter basket. I can smell it already. Tamp, tamp, tamp. Drop the basket into the portafilter, place the portafilter in the espresso machine, a swift yank to the right. It’s go-time! I hit a series of buttons and the machine rumbles and groans; it’s waking up with me. After just a few seconds, a dark velvety cloud swells underneath the filter and, unable to contain itself, plunges down into my espresso cup in multiple ribbons. Over the course of a minute, the streams find each other and combine into one solid cascade, all the while transforming from a deep chocolate color to an enticing foamy caramel. The cup is full and steam rises to my nostrils as the sounds of the machine dissipate. That first sip hits the back of my throat, the warmth spreading through my body, and with a jolt my day has begun.
The way a person wakes up can have a ripple effect on the whole day ahead of them, and an assertive cup of coffee always sets me on the right path. The process of preparing coffee is a gentle crescendo. It’s calming, and then it’s invigorating. Beginning the day with a coffee ritual is how I attempt a proper start, and this espresso cup and saucer is my love letter to get the day going.
Chunky Saucer
I began exploring making my own espresso cup and saucer forms three years ago. My initial curiosity sprung from my desire to make an object that rejected the premise that good pots have walls whose thickness is perfectly even.
Without any specific function in mind, I began throwing objects on the wheel with interior curves that were mirrored on the outside of the form. I threw thick and trimmed away to create opposing convex lines. I articulated interior shapes that contradicted the exteriors until finally, I settled on an object that reminded me of a saucer. This saucer felt bulky and fluffy, and it was begging for a companion object to nestle down in its pillowy embrace.
Using a substantial amount of clay to make relatively small objects provides support during the throwing process and is later trimmed away into a precise and narrow foot (1). I begin by centering 11/2 pounds (680 g) of clay for the saucer (2). When articulating the shapes on the top of the saucer, I support the rim from the bottom and push down with some force to ensure a gradual, convex line from center to rim (3). My goal is a repeated form. I am always sure to step back and view the pots in comparison to each other to ensure consistent size and shape (4).
Using (Making) the Right Tools
As I dove headfirst into problem solving an espresso cup to pair with my new saucer form, my hands led the way, but choosing which tools to use had a noticeable influence on how the composition progressed. In theory, an artist should be able to produce any pot they can conceive using just their unique hand/brain combination in conjunction with the classic pottery tool starter kit. However, I found that a deep consideration for one’s tools yields a noticeably more considered final design. With so many tools available, creating one’s own presents opportunities for fresh, unique, and intentional riffs on familiar shapes. The tools I have created, paired with a few store-bought favorites, directly contributed to the development of my espresso cup and saucer form.
I made some to perform specific tasks, like my tension-bound miniature bow tool (see below) meant to slice precisely through small pieces of clay. I made others before their use was considered. For instance, my squat quarter-of-a-bean-shaped metal rib was created because I found the rounded arch visually compelling and later discovered that it created a perfectly sloped cup interior.
Tools occupy the negative space surrounding the pot during the making process. The fully fired pot then becomes a tool and occupies the negative space of the user’s body. My vision of a pot and the tools I use to execute that vision are in constant conversation, one informing and progressing the other.
Well-Paired Cup
To form the cup, I use 1 1/4 pounds (567 g) of clay (5) and shape the interior with the proper volume and slope (6). Though the form is simple, there are a few key details that I pay attention to in order to ensure consistency. Producing roughly the same-sized pot each time is crucial to creating sets. Rather than remembering a list of arbitrary numbers to get the widths and heights of each component correct, I rely on a set of tools that I am almost certain will not change or get lost, my hands. When freshly thrown, the cup stands four knuckles high and one hand wide, and a saucer is the width of eight knuckles across. The cup seating on the saucer is three fingers wide and corresponds to the foot, which is also trimmed to three fingers wide. This technique has not only saved me countless precious minutes not searching for and wiping down a ruler, but it also ensures that my pots feel for and of my body, as they are made in direct relation to it.
Handle
I create the handle by rolling a tapered coil and gently bending it in half. I prefer to use dryer clay so that cracks begin forming on the surface as I bend the clay (7). Using my handmade miniature bow tool, I slice off the excess clay at an angle that corresponds to the side of the cup (8). Finally, using the bottommost part of my palm, I create a broad surface and apply even pressure to create a solid attachment (9).
Final Thoughts
I did not set out to spend three years refining an espresso cup and saucer. Over the years, my interest in the form has shifted. It began with perfecting the formal components of each object. Now, I can’t help but ruminate on how these objects physically interact with each other. Much like the way a sip of espresso is itself a warm embrace, the pudgy yet delicate porcelain cup settles down into its stoneware partner, cradled safely. The saucers’ substantial presence does not overshadow, but rather complements the thick, sloping articulation of the cup rim. The squishiness of the handle competes with the plush saucer.
The most important part of these pots is the user experience. They are visually and physically heavy, generating a haptic interaction that is best understood through use. They feel dense, but balanced, sturdy, and secure. These pots are solid. There is no fear that a pre-caffeinated person might lose control before their first sip.
While troubleshooting this form years ago, I quickly ran into a problem. Like any good potter, I took my new design home with me to put its practicality and functionality to the test. I placed my cup and saucer on the counter, grabbed my beans, looked up, and dang, no espresso machine! No buttons to program, no caffeinated ribbons lazily filling my cup, no intoxicating first sips. Despite my Chemex pourover, an inherited generic drip machine, and an Aeropress that gets me fairly close, nothing in my kitchen can provide what I described earlier. I don’t actually have a way to produce that silken, concentrated stream and rich top layer of crema in my house—it’s just a fantasy. As I stared at the empty counter space, hoping Nespresso products would materialize, I found myself wondering, “If I can’t even use these espresso cups properly, why bother making them?” Perhaps I’m making them because it feels aspirational. I don’t have the means or permanence to justify investing in such a luxurious item, but I might one day. Coffee is coffee, what you do with it makes it impactful. So, I make these pots just in case. Just in case I live somewhere that is permanent. Just in case I have financial stability. Just in case I am able to create that perfect morning for myself every single morning. Just in case.
Marlaina Lutz began working with clay while pursuing a bachelor’s degree at Marymount Manhattan College in New York City. After graduating in 2016, Lutz was the assistant manager of Gasworks NYC, in Brooklyn, New York. Lutz attended Utah State University and earned her MFA in 2023. She is currently a long-term resident at Red Lodge Clay Center.
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