Our friend, John Neely, died this weekend. At the North Carolina woodfire conference in 2022, for some an opportunity to showcase large pots and macho egos, John Neely exhibited a beautiful and sensitive selection of small woodfired cups. I tried to buy one but they were all sold. I told John how much I liked them and he offered to trade. So when we got home we each sent the other two cups. Warren and I have often treasured these small objects.

John was an organizer and presenter at this year’s conference. Last week, each evening after the formal events of the conference, John happily filled everyone’s cups with liquids along with stories and laughs. I have no desire to go back to school, but sometimes I have wished I was a fly on the wall of his ceramics program at Utah State University. John’s former students seem to have gained so much and move through the world in great ways.

The shock and sadness of John’s passing on Sunday has spilled through our nervous system.

My Cup

They tell me I am going to die.
Why don’t I seem to care?
My cup is full. Let it spill.

–Robert Friend, from Dancing With A Tiger: Poems 1941-1998 (Spuyten Duyvil).