The Shelf That Holds Us: Pottery, Storage, and Slow Stacking

From ancient grain jars to reclaimed studio timber, ceramic shelves do more than store — they remember. Ours just went in.

In ancient homes, pottery wasn’t displayed — it was stored.

Clay jars lined the walls of granaries and kitchens, sometimes buried halfway into the earth. Egyptian amphorae, Greek kraters, and Korean onggi jars didn’t sit on mantels — they held grain, oil, pickles, stories.

Vessels weren’t decoration. They were survival.

At Mayfield Studios in Abbotsford, we’ve just finished installing a wall of reclaimed ceramic shelving. Big timber beams now stretch across the front space — strong enough for bowls, wide enough for books, weathered enough to feel like they’ve always been here.

And just like that, the room feels held.

Shelving in a ceramics studio isn’t just practical — it’s spiritual. It shapes the way we move. It says: this is where things live.

These new shelves carry greenware, bisque, glaze tests, half-finished mugs, too-big-for-the-kiln things. They carry things that will never be fired. They hold teapots with stories, and lopsided bowls made by beginners.

They hold evidence.

In a world that asks us to move fast, shelving for pottery offers stillness. A place to pause. A way to say: this matters.

This week, as we rearrange the studio — stacking, clearing, labeling — we’re reminded that studio organization for ceramics is less about control and more about care.

The shelf doesn’t just hold our work. It holds us.