Traditional pottery sellers struggle to pass on the torch

Traditional potters struggle as younger generations abandon the craft for more lucrative careers, threatening the art's survival.

Even though wheel-thrown pottery has a long history, many potters are abandoning the business to pursue better livelihoods. Does this spell doom for the traditional art itself? Despite tons of Gen Zers leaning towards the art of slow living and making pots as therapeutic hobbies at weekends, traditional potters find it extremely difficult to find young blood to bequeath their craft.

As the scorching April sun beats down on Chennai, the potters are grinding away unflinchingly at Valluvar Kottam, selling wares, from teeny lamps to large water pots. When it is finally summer, the hope is igniting like a firecracker, with demand soaring for man paanais, the earthen pots to keep water.

In his Chamunda Clay Pot Shop, K. Shiva sells pots from Marakkanam, Coimbatore, Erode, and so on. “Making these pots is not a walk in the park. From gathering clay to stomping cow dung with our feet, then lighting it up inside the pots, firing them up in a kiln far away from the residential areas, and hauling them here — it is a whole ordeal. Despite all efforts, people are bargaining, brushing off these pots as mere mud. It’s as if they think anyone could do it without decades of practice,” he says. Just then, a customer talked down a ₹400 pot to a measly ₹100. With clay moulded into dainty-like flower pots, these potters-turned-full-time sellers don’t foresee their magic enduring endlessly if such merciless bargaining continues, possibly the biggest threat to their business.

A few shops further on, you’ll find Usha Vadivel running her Janaki Clay Pots. When asked about the sales of clay pots, she has a subtle grin, “Yes, we’re seeing a spike in sales for cooking and water pots this summer. But what people don’t get is these aren’t just pots; they’re the holy grail of healthy living — the healthiest thing in your kitchen is your clay pot.”

Wearily though, she adds, “We honestly don’t see profit in this. Almost half the pots break during transit. We are mainly here to contribute to the people. Sadly, all that bargaining kills our love for this craft.”

Both Shiva and Usha are frazzled, noses slightly scrunched as they talk. They confess that their children have opted for more lucrative careers in information technology and desk jobs. Hope in this business isn’t always fireworks lighting up the sky; it’s more like a flickering candle on its last legs.

In cosy pottery studios decked out with Monstera plants and vintage mirrors, ‘No bargaining’ signs are not needed — everyone knows the drill. So why do street-vendors have to deal with all that endless back-and-forth?