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500 Series
500 Cups: Ceramic Explorations of Utility and Grace
In the hands of an expert ceramist, the once-simple cup can become an extraordinary work of art--as these 500 magnificent examples so beautifully prove. The exciting pieces come from an international array of artists, each with a unique perspective. The stylishly varied collection has a little bit of everything: the cups range from handbuilt to wheel-thrown, practical to sculptural, round to square. Benjamin Schulman's "Stacked Teacup Set" takes a strictly functional approach, while Heather O'Brien's "Dessert Cups on Stand" focuses on aesthetic form rather than usefulness. Annette Gates' "Espresso Shot Cups with Rubies" has a surface design of simple abstract lines and dots of glaze and jewels. Some are whimsical, others starkly conceptual. Every one is a treat for the eye.
- GenresArtNonfictionReference
408 pages, Paperback
First published February 1, 2005
About the author
Suzanne J.E. Tourtillott
19 books4 followersSuzanne Tourtillott was born in post-war Germany but lives and works, happily, in Asheville, North Carolina. After studying and then teaching fine art and commercial photography, she turned to writing arts journalism for periodicals and, ultimately, to writing and editing craft books. Suzanne has edited more than 50 titles in jewelry, ceramics, needle crafts--even poetry. Her business/Twitter is @editorious; see the site at http://editorious.org and tweets via #editorious. you can follow Suzanne's visual interests on Pinterest (pinning as username suzanne33).
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
March 7, 2021
I saw this book featured on the shelf in my college library and was fascinated by it to the extent that, having reached my borrowing limit, I returned one of the text books I'd just checked out so that I could get this instead. Hopefully, my assignment won't suffer as a result!
My main issue with this book is that you can only look at the photographs of the cups, when I want to hold them! At least, that is, those which look functional and call out to be touched and cradled in the hand - there are some cups shown which are more sculptural and deliberately non-functional 'works of art'.
Reading this book has brought me to consider just what it is I think a cup should be. As essentials, I want a cup to be able to hold a liquid; to fit in the hand, with or without a handle is fine, but either way it should be at least comfortable to hold, if not pleasurable; the lip of the cup should fit my own such that the transport of liquid from cup to mouth is efficiently conducted. Many of the "cups" here don't fit my criteria: they may (though sometimes they aren't) be beautiful as objects, but fit Wilde's definition of art as being quite useless. The cupness of a cup implies for me functionality.
Of the cups that fulfil my fundamental criteria for functionality, I find I have a hitherto largely unconscious preference based upon shape, proportions and decoration. Shape: I prefer a balanced design, not necessarily symmetrical but certainly not skewed or highly irregular. Proportions: I'm actually less bothered by this, and find myself appreciating a wide range of proportion, though I'd have preferences for certain types for particular drinks which, of course, is generally the potter's intention. What don't I like? Thick rims which feel like they would obtrude upon the act of drinking rather than facilitate it; if it's got a handle, one that's not too small to accommodate fingers. Decoration: Again, it feels easier to say what I don't like, which is flat colours with a high-gloss glaze. There is so much variety on show here that is truly excellent that it's difficult to narrow down an absolute favourite. It would probably be something of medium size, regular in form and with a gently curving line about it somewhere, probably greenish (though I'm also drawn to many of the reds and ochres, too), and perhaps speckled glaze.
In contrast, the cup I'm using as I write this is a mass-produced, off-white mug with the words "blithering idiot" written in blue typeface on the sides, a gift from my children to their tea-addled dad.
My main issue with this book is that you can only look at the photographs of the cups, when I want to hold them! At least, that is, those which look functional and call out to be touched and cradled in the hand - there are some cups shown which are more sculptural and deliberately non-functional 'works of art'.
Reading this book has brought me to consider just what it is I think a cup should be. As essentials, I want a cup to be able to hold a liquid; to fit in the hand, with or without a handle is fine, but either way it should be at least comfortable to hold, if not pleasurable; the lip of the cup should fit my own such that the transport of liquid from cup to mouth is efficiently conducted. Many of the "cups" here don't fit my criteria: they may (though sometimes they aren't) be beautiful as objects, but fit Wilde's definition of art as being quite useless. The cupness of a cup implies for me functionality.
Of the cups that fulfil my fundamental criteria for functionality, I find I have a hitherto largely unconscious preference based upon shape, proportions and decoration. Shape: I prefer a balanced design, not necessarily symmetrical but certainly not skewed or highly irregular. Proportions: I'm actually less bothered by this, and find myself appreciating a wide range of proportion, though I'd have preferences for certain types for particular drinks which, of course, is generally the potter's intention. What don't I like? Thick rims which feel like they would obtrude upon the act of drinking rather than facilitate it; if it's got a handle, one that's not too small to accommodate fingers. Decoration: Again, it feels easier to say what I don't like, which is flat colours with a high-gloss glaze. There is so much variety on show here that is truly excellent that it's difficult to narrow down an absolute favourite. It would probably be something of medium size, regular in form and with a gently curving line about it somewhere, probably greenish (though I'm also drawn to many of the reds and ochres, too), and perhaps speckled glaze.
In contrast, the cup I'm using as I write this is a mass-produced, off-white mug with the words "blithering idiot" written in blue typeface on the sides, a gift from my children to their tea-addled dad.
July 6, 2026
Few objects are as intimately woven into the rituals of everyday life as the ceramic cup. It is held, warmed by the hands, raised to the lips, and quietly accompanies moments of solitude and conversation alike. 500 Cups: Ceramic Explorations of Utility and Grace transforms this seemingly humble vessel into a profound artistic inquiry, revealing that the cup is not merely an object of use but a site where sculpture, design, ritual, and personal expression converge. Rather than presenting a technical manual or historical survey, editor Suzanne J. E. Tourtillot has assembled a visual anthology that celebrates the astonishing diversity of contemporary ceramic thought.
The book's premise is elegantly summarized in its opening description:
"In the hands of an expert ceramist, the once-simple cup can become an extraordinary work of art."
This deceptively simple statement serves as the collection's thesis. Every page asks the reader to reconsider what a cup can become when liberated from convention while still remaining anchored to its identity as a vessel.
Beyond Function
One of the book's greatest achievements is its refusal to establish a hierarchy between functional pottery and sculptural ceramics. Instead, it presents them as complementary points along the same creative spectrum.
The publisher's overview notes that the collection ranges from "handbuilt to wheel-thrown, practical to sculptural, round to square."
This remarkable inclusiveness prevents the volume from becoming stylistically predictable. Traditional stoneware mugs appear beside porcelain constructions that seem almost architectural. Some cups appear entirely comfortable in the hand, while others challenge the very act of drinking, transforming utility into conceptual performance.
Rather than asking whether a piece "works," the collection continually asks a more interesting question: What does a cup communicate? Some artists answer through elegant simplicity. Others embrace elaborate ornamentation. Still others dismantle expectations through distortion, asymmetry, or impossible forms.
The Cup as Self-Portrait
Viewed collectively, the five hundred works become an exhibition of artistic personalities.
Benjamin Schulman's Stacked Teacup Set exemplifies functional restraint, while Heather O'Brien's Dessert Cups on Stand privileges sculptural presence over everyday practicality. Annette Gates' Espresso Shot Cups with Rubies demonstrates how precious materials can transform an ordinary drinking vessel into a jewel-like object whose visual richness rivals fine metalwork.
These examples illustrate one of the volume's central insights: There is no singular definition of “cup." Instead, each artist offers a philosophical interpretation of containment, intimacy, balance, texture, and touch.
An International Conversation
The international scope of the collection prevents it from becoming stylistically provincial.
Japanese influences coexist with European modernism, North American studio pottery, folk traditions, abstract sculpture, and postmodern experimentation. Rather than organizing works according to nationality or chronology, the sequence encourages visual dialogue across cultures.
One begins noticing recurring concerns:
the expressive possibilities of the rim,
the psychological importance of the handle,
the tactile invitation of textured surfaces,
the relationship between interior and exterior space,
and the subtle balance between symmetry and spontaneity.
These recurring motifs create unexpected conversations between artists who likely never intended to speak to one another.
Photography as Interpretation
Because ceramics are tactile objects, photographing them presents unique challenges.
The volume's photography succeeds by emphasizing volume, surface, and shadow rather than merely documenting form. Light glances across crystalline glazes, reveals carved textures, and accentuates thrown lines that silently record the movement of the maker's hands.
Although no photograph can reproduce weight, temperature, or the sensation of drinking, the images consistently invite viewers to imagine these absent experiences.
This limitation becomes, paradoxically, one of the book's strengths. The photographs provoke tactile imagination rather than satisfying it.
The Silence of Minimal Text
Like many titles in Lark's celebrated 500 series, this volume deliberately minimizes written commentary.
For readers seeking artist biographies or technical discussions, this restraint may initially seem disappointing. Yet the editorial decision reflects confidence in visual literacy.
Each page asks viewers to slow down.
Without lengthy explanations dictating interpretation, readers begin performing the same kind of close observation that museum visitors bring to sculpture.
Surface becomes language.
Profile becomes narrative.
Proportion becomes emotion.
The result resembles walking through a thoughtfully curated exhibition where the objects themselves remain the primary voices.
A Meditation on Everyday Beauty
Perhaps the collection's most enduring accomplishment is its elevation of the ordinary.
A cup accompanies breakfast, tea with friends, solitary reflection, illness, celebration, and mourning. It is among humanity's oldest domestic forms, yet these artists continually reinvent it without severing its connection to daily life.
Even the most experimental pieces remain haunted by their intended purpose: to hold something offered to another person.
In this sense, the cup becomes a metaphor for hospitality itself.
The tension between containment and generosity, permanence and fragility, utility and beauty echoes throughout the volume.
Critical Assessment
As a sourcebook for ceramic artists, 500 Cups is nearly inexhaustible. It rewards repeated browsing because each viewing reveals new formal relationships and technical discoveries. For collectors, educators, and students, it offers an extraordinary survey of contemporary ceramic vocabulary.
Its only notable limitation is one shared by nearly every ceramic publication: the absence of tactile experience. Ceramic art ultimately lives through touch, weight, balance, and use—qualities photography can only suggest. Yet Tourtillot acknowledges this limitation implicitly, allowing imagination to bridge what images cannot fully convey.
The minimal text may also frustrate readers seeking deeper contextual analysis of individual artists. More extensive artist statements or essays might have enriched the scholarly value without diminishing the visual emphasis.
500 Cups: Ceramic Explorations of Utility and Grace is far more than an illustrated catalogue. It is a meditation on one of humanity's oldest functional forms and a compelling argument that everyday objects deserve the same aesthetic attention as monumental sculpture. Suzanne J. E. Tourtillot has curated not merely five hundred cups but five hundred philosophies of making—each one exploring the delicate intersection of usefulness, beauty, craftsmanship, and imagination.
The collection reminds us that extraordinary art often resides in the objects we hold closest. A cup is never merely a container. In the hands of gifted ceramic artists, it becomes a vessel for memory, identity, ritual, and grace. Few books demonstrate this truth with such quiet eloquence or such inexhaustible visual richness.
The book's premise is elegantly summarized in its opening description:
"In the hands of an expert ceramist, the once-simple cup can become an extraordinary work of art."
This deceptively simple statement serves as the collection's thesis. Every page asks the reader to reconsider what a cup can become when liberated from convention while still remaining anchored to its identity as a vessel.
Beyond Function
One of the book's greatest achievements is its refusal to establish a hierarchy between functional pottery and sculptural ceramics. Instead, it presents them as complementary points along the same creative spectrum.
The publisher's overview notes that the collection ranges from "handbuilt to wheel-thrown, practical to sculptural, round to square."
This remarkable inclusiveness prevents the volume from becoming stylistically predictable. Traditional stoneware mugs appear beside porcelain constructions that seem almost architectural. Some cups appear entirely comfortable in the hand, while others challenge the very act of drinking, transforming utility into conceptual performance.
Rather than asking whether a piece "works," the collection continually asks a more interesting question: What does a cup communicate? Some artists answer through elegant simplicity. Others embrace elaborate ornamentation. Still others dismantle expectations through distortion, asymmetry, or impossible forms.
The Cup as Self-Portrait
Viewed collectively, the five hundred works become an exhibition of artistic personalities.
Benjamin Schulman's Stacked Teacup Set exemplifies functional restraint, while Heather O'Brien's Dessert Cups on Stand privileges sculptural presence over everyday practicality. Annette Gates' Espresso Shot Cups with Rubies demonstrates how precious materials can transform an ordinary drinking vessel into a jewel-like object whose visual richness rivals fine metalwork.
These examples illustrate one of the volume's central insights: There is no singular definition of “cup." Instead, each artist offers a philosophical interpretation of containment, intimacy, balance, texture, and touch.
An International Conversation
The international scope of the collection prevents it from becoming stylistically provincial.
Japanese influences coexist with European modernism, North American studio pottery, folk traditions, abstract sculpture, and postmodern experimentation. Rather than organizing works according to nationality or chronology, the sequence encourages visual dialogue across cultures.
One begins noticing recurring concerns:
the expressive possibilities of the rim,
the psychological importance of the handle,
the tactile invitation of textured surfaces,
the relationship between interior and exterior space,
and the subtle balance between symmetry and spontaneity.
These recurring motifs create unexpected conversations between artists who likely never intended to speak to one another.
Photography as Interpretation
Because ceramics are tactile objects, photographing them presents unique challenges.
The volume's photography succeeds by emphasizing volume, surface, and shadow rather than merely documenting form. Light glances across crystalline glazes, reveals carved textures, and accentuates thrown lines that silently record the movement of the maker's hands.
Although no photograph can reproduce weight, temperature, or the sensation of drinking, the images consistently invite viewers to imagine these absent experiences.
This limitation becomes, paradoxically, one of the book's strengths. The photographs provoke tactile imagination rather than satisfying it.
The Silence of Minimal Text
Like many titles in Lark's celebrated 500 series, this volume deliberately minimizes written commentary.
For readers seeking artist biographies or technical discussions, this restraint may initially seem disappointing. Yet the editorial decision reflects confidence in visual literacy.
Each page asks viewers to slow down.
Without lengthy explanations dictating interpretation, readers begin performing the same kind of close observation that museum visitors bring to sculpture.
Surface becomes language.
Profile becomes narrative.
Proportion becomes emotion.
The result resembles walking through a thoughtfully curated exhibition where the objects themselves remain the primary voices.
A Meditation on Everyday Beauty
Perhaps the collection's most enduring accomplishment is its elevation of the ordinary.
A cup accompanies breakfast, tea with friends, solitary reflection, illness, celebration, and mourning. It is among humanity's oldest domestic forms, yet these artists continually reinvent it without severing its connection to daily life.
Even the most experimental pieces remain haunted by their intended purpose: to hold something offered to another person.
In this sense, the cup becomes a metaphor for hospitality itself.
The tension between containment and generosity, permanence and fragility, utility and beauty echoes throughout the volume.
Critical Assessment
As a sourcebook for ceramic artists, 500 Cups is nearly inexhaustible. It rewards repeated browsing because each viewing reveals new formal relationships and technical discoveries. For collectors, educators, and students, it offers an extraordinary survey of contemporary ceramic vocabulary.
Its only notable limitation is one shared by nearly every ceramic publication: the absence of tactile experience. Ceramic art ultimately lives through touch, weight, balance, and use—qualities photography can only suggest. Yet Tourtillot acknowledges this limitation implicitly, allowing imagination to bridge what images cannot fully convey.
The minimal text may also frustrate readers seeking deeper contextual analysis of individual artists. More extensive artist statements or essays might have enriched the scholarly value without diminishing the visual emphasis.
500 Cups: Ceramic Explorations of Utility and Grace is far more than an illustrated catalogue. It is a meditation on one of humanity's oldest functional forms and a compelling argument that everyday objects deserve the same aesthetic attention as monumental sculpture. Suzanne J. E. Tourtillot has curated not merely five hundred cups but five hundred philosophies of making—each one exploring the delicate intersection of usefulness, beauty, craftsmanship, and imagination.
The collection reminds us that extraordinary art often resides in the objects we hold closest. A cup is never merely a container. In the hands of gifted ceramic artists, it becomes a vessel for memory, identity, ritual, and grace. Few books demonstrate this truth with such quiet eloquence or such inexhaustible visual richness.
November 7, 2022
There was a distinct problem with this book. Photographs cannot convey neither touch or the texture of the ceramic. It can’t tell you how the cup feels in your hand. The weight when you lift it. The warm or cold of the liquid inside. The experience of taking a drink.
So when I say I didn’t find most these examples as visually pleasing, that does not reflect on its beauty when put into use.
As far as recommending, I wouldn’t, but that’s based on my taste. The selection, as a whole had very little color and a lot of sameness.
I did like a few cups, particularly those made in the Japanese style. Different readers may enjoy other pieces more than I did.
So when I say I didn’t find most these examples as visually pleasing, that does not reflect on its beauty when put into use.
As far as recommending, I wouldn’t, but that’s based on my taste. The selection, as a whole had very little color and a lot of sameness.
I did like a few cups, particularly those made in the Japanese style. Different readers may enjoy other pieces more than I did.
September 14, 2014
I borrowed this book for inspiration for a surface decoration pottery class I was taking. I love the simplicity of this series of 500 books: they have great pictures and minimal descriptions of the work and materials/methods used.
I was a little underwhelmed by the book's collection, but still found a handful of pieces I really liked and a few artists to look up for more inspiration.
I was a little underwhelmed by the book's collection, but still found a handful of pieces I really liked and a few artists to look up for more inspiration.
March 24, 2008
I love seeing other people's work and these 500 series by Lark includes wonderful photos of such a wide variety of work. It includes such a convenient range from wild, funky non-functional to simple, beautiful functional forms.
May 28, 2007
My constant clay inspiration
Read
March 27, 2009do picture books count? because this one is badass, it came in handy as a source of inspiration when I was a ceramics major in college
March 29, 2010
more than a third of these looked like the sculptors had made them with their feet. There were a few beautiful ones.
The least attractive in this series so far.
The least attractive in this series so far.
June 16, 2012
Visual inspiration for potters.
June 4, 2010
Inspiring examples of beautiful thrown, hand-built and extruded cups.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews