It’s hard to know when a story really begins, but this one may have begun in 1200 AD, when a native in Peru created a ‘stirrup’ pot used as a canteen to carry water. A dear friend gave this pot to me, which had been given to him in gratitude many years ago after he had courageously flown food in to starving villagers cut off by mudslides. As a potter myself, I treasure this artifact.

Another piece of this story is my personal journey. My wife, Jennifer, and I were committed to helping the poor and worked in VISTA (domestic Peace Corps) the first two years of our marriage. As well as pottery, I have oil painted, enjoyed photography, been a metallurgical chemist, a buyer and a planner for IBM for 18 years. In 1989, IBM transferred our family from Arizona to the Mid-Hudson Valley in New York. It was an exciting time with so many new experiences. We became close friends with another young family, Mark and MaryBeth Warden and their four children.

In 1991, rumors about IBM downsizing began. That year the Economy of Sharing initiative began to help the poor in Africa, South America, and other poverty stricken areas of the world. Many of us were very excited about the opportunity to participate in long range efforts to help those in need, but didn’t know if we had time or ability to start businesses.

The next year, our friend Mary Beth was diagnosed with cancer. Their heroic six-month fight was near the end, she had come home for the last days with her family. It was a cold gray Sunday towards the end of February, and yet another snowfall was beginning after an already long New York winter. Jennifer had a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove, and I settled in to watch a repeat of Star Trek. Jennifer and I had long held different views on the quality and amount of TV time. She suggested a compromise – what if we move the TV out of the living room, perhaps to the den.

Jennifer then pushed the heavy shelves holding the TV away from the wall. All four of us heard a breaking crash. I knew what had broken. I had recently moved the ancient stirrup pot from the fireplace mantle to the top of those shelves.

Almost in unison, our daughters said, “We’re so sorry, Daddy.” I told them that I had broken many things in my life and their mother felt much worse than I did. I picked up the pieces and put them in the trash. The house was quiet.

After only a few minutes, the telephone rang. It was Mark Warden, and he said that Mary Beth had asked to see us. Could we come over? Of course, immediately, everything was put in perspective and the pot breaking did not seem very important. We were so happy to have a chance to be with Mary Beth and the family. We took the spaghetti dinner to their house and our families spent the evening together. She went to heaven three days later.

A month passed, and I shared with Jennifer that I regretted having thrown the pieces of the old stirrup pot away. She smiled, opened a drawer, and explained that she had saved the pieces. She placed them in front of me, and I started gluing them together. This act of making the pot whole again filled me with great joy. I even got the idea to use ashes from the fireplace to disguise the cracks. It was exciting! The pot looked good, I wondered aloud if there was a need for this -- are there people who do this for a living?

I called a friend who is an antique dealer. He remarked that I had no clue just how hard this was or how long it took to become skilled, and invited me to his store to see invisible restoration. I was amazed and humbled - I could not even tell where the objects had been broken! He offered to call his ceramic restorer and ask if I could apprentice. Jeff, the ceramic restorer, said “Yes.” I went to Maine and worked with him for just a short time, but I am forever grateful for how he helped me. I came home and practiced practiced practiced. I still had my job at IBM, and I would restore ceramics on the weekends. By March 1993 IBM began major layoffs, but this time I was spared.

That same month we named my business, “Terra Nuova” – New Earth in Italian. It was perfect! I make old earth … new. I had daily opportunities to make broken things like new. Sometimes, this helps to heal a relationship. In fact, several times, a grandchild’s accidental breaking of a sentimental heirloom has been repaired, as well as all the guilty feelings. This is always a joy!

In September 1996, I was asked to resign from IBM. Terra Nuova now needed to support my family and send my oldest daughter to college. This was a big and scary step. Jennifer changed her job to ensure we had medical benefits. The business grew as each client was valued, each story heard, each piece restored. Many lessons were learned.

Most of my customers are antique dealers or collectors, and have very high standards for the restoration of these valuable items they entrust to me. My goal is to replicate the vision of the original artist, and not erase evidence of normal usage or add anything. This raised a question of ethics, when one customer asked me to erase a mark on the bottom of a vase. I realized this would significantly alter the age represented, and therefore the value of the piece, and I told him I would not do that. I also decided I would not restore for anyone who did not label items for sale as “restored”… because this could misrepresent the value. And when I give estimates, I strive to take the customer’s point of view. Depending on the value of a piece and the cost of full restoration, I frequently work with them to explore more cost effective approaches. Honoring ethics and each customer’s individual needs is how I can demonstrate the values important to me.

The next big challenge was two years later. I had a routine yearly physical, and my liver scores were severely abnormal. I was told to stop working. I was shocked, I hadn’t felt sick, and used many precautions. I wore gloves, a facemask, and always used ventilating fans, but it wasn’t enough. I saw a specialist and a biopsy was done. The results indicated I had a severe allergy to a drug or chemical. Since they knew I worked with glues and paint they concluded that my work probably caused this reaction. Both doctors felt I should stop restoring or find better ways to protect myself. I couldn’t call it quits – I had finally been given work I loved to do! So I called chemical companies, researched and built a workshop with all the safety technology I could find. I set up an air pump to bring in fresh outside air into my facemask. My liver scores began to normalize all the while I continued to work and build this new environment. I have regular checks on my liver enzymes, am in good health and just finished my 4,000th restoration.

This Economy of Sharing business does not provide employment for many, it has only modest profits to help the poor, it does not provide a social service, but it does illustrate how there is a plan for each and every one of us and how we can help the world. It is a privilege to be an EOS business, to be a part of this idealistic global economic initiative - from my basement shop in Upstate New York! Although I work alone, I know I am united with businesses in every country, and together we contribute to help the needy of this world.

So, this is the story of Terra Nuova – out of an old broken pot comes much healing and life. And, as I frequently say, the old stirrup pot is more valuable and precious to me now … than before it was broken.

Published:
1. LivingCity, Hyde Park, New York – November 2003
2. Cittanuova, Rome, Italy – January 2004
3. New City, London, England – February 2004