This year’s mugs have no handles, and I keep being asked whether it’s a statement. It started as arithmetic: handles snap, handles crowd the kiln shelf, handles double the making time.
But then I lived with the handleless ones through a winter, and something shifted. A cup without a handle has to be held with both hands, and a cup held with both hands cannot share them with a phone or a keyboard. It makes you stop. Five minutes, fully spent.
Turns out the handle wasn’t holding the cup. It was holding the multitasking.