Chris Caillouet

As a lifetime on-again, off-again putterer in pottery, I have dabbled in many of its forms. From crude handbuilt coffee cups to sophisticated slipcasts, from wheel-thrown pots to thrown-slab tree trunks, I have always liked to get my hands muddy. While each of these modes of making bears its own appeal, it wasn’t until I made my first working whistle that I heard my true calling. To take a lifeless lump of clay and coax it into a shape that transforms breath into song is to realize something wondrous, if not magical. It is a meditative, multi-sensory craft that indulges my creative passions and rewards my visual, auditory, and tactile perceptions.