Clay on Fire

One Saturday on our way out of town for the Blue Ridge BBQ Festival – which warrants its own post – Scott wanted to make a quick stop at the Clay on Fire Festival. He showed me the promotional postcard, which made me think we were going to a satanic fair sponsored by the Hellfire Hot Sauce Company and accompanied by live music and beer.

The only devils we actually met were made of clay. Turned out, it was a pottery show that featured a dozen potters who made all things demonic and fantastical.

The first potter we met made grotesque heads stacked on top of one another, a couple of them sporting beautifully molded copper antlers. Apparently, the heads and other versions of them – face jugs they’re called – are a tradition dating back 200 years in the South. Legend has it that they were used to hide alcohol from children who were too scared to mess with them. I'd be scared too.

I was drawn to the next potter who had a tent filled with creatures that were grinning, sticking their tongues out, smacking their dismembered lips or popping their eyes out at me. That was from Mud and Guts Studio by Steve Weslow. Each one of those creatures was a hand carved ceramic mug, jug or vessel of sorts. There were cats, bears, monkeys and tigers with fearsome teeth that would give a dentist nightmares, and monsters with periscopic eyes. I half expected them to come alive in the dark as characters in a Tim Burton movie.

Then there was this pair of frightful satans from Get Clay by Dan. One had a sliced off skull and bloodshot eye smoking a cigar, and the other had a snake wrapped around his head where his gouged out eyes should be  – both seemingly having a grand time and laughing.

Another delightful stop was the Big Duluth Studios where we mimicked the screaming red lips reminiscent of the Rocky Mountain Horror Picture Show. I contemplated taking one home but shuddered at the thought of being licked by the protruding tongue if I happened to sip from the mouth side of the mug.

We spent a long time admiring the creations by Kevin of Turkey Creek Pottery, who couldn’t have been more than 25, yet he had been sculpting clay for something like 10 years. There was a snake whose scales he carved out one by one, an iguana-in-progress so lifelike that it looked about to crawl off the table, and a couple of characters from the original Alice and Wonderland who we couldn't recognize but who were striking in their human-like expressions.

Then there was the gruff cowboy whose scratchy stubbles you could almost feel, and the pair of vibrant roosters in a face-off that Scott was fond of.

We left the exhibit thoroughly surprised and in awe of the talent that should be discovered by major museums. The show left us grinning and delighted. Nevertheless, I was relieved that Scott didn't decide to bring a monster's head home with us.