Rockville artist dishes on all things ceramics

No smears of clay or pools of wet paint blot Chris Landers’ workspace, at least when it’s not in use. The ceramics artist owns and operates The Clay CoOp in Rockville, and he keeps every inch of the expansive industrial area clean, organized and usable. It’s all about the pairing of function and aesthetics. In the same way, Landers’ handmade line of small-batch tableware presents beautiful, understated products to use on a daily basis.

“As long as it’s in use, that’s sort of my goal,” Landers, 38, says of the products he turns out.

Each piece carries its own story and unique characteristics, with the mission of introducing high-quality heirloom objects into everyday life. The ceramic products are intentionally durable and elegant; dishwasher- and microwave-safe, appropriate for both commercial and residential settings. Landers says he is often commissioned to create one-of-a-kind tableware for restaurant use, but his line of bowls, plates, cups, platters and more appeals to the general public as well.

“My whole kitchen is filled with his dishes,” says Lynn Brown, an amateur ceramics artist and frequent customer from Potomac. “I cook a lot, and it’s nice to have something beautiful to display your efforts with.” Brown once sent Landers a photo of her dishwasher full of his plates, cups and bowls, telling him, “Even in the dishwasher they look great!”

Landers, a Gaithersburg native, has long been drawn to ceramics. As far back as his days at DuFief Elementary School, he loved playing with clay, and growing up, he took as many art classes as possible at Robert Frost Middle School and Wootton High School. “I’ve always gravitated toward clay—this tactile material [with which] I could make things without many rules,” he says. “There’s always more to learn, and it’s engaging enough to keep you hooked for a lifetime.”

A match striker is one of the unique items he has created in his quest to make useful products. The small ceramic match holder is glazed on all sides but one, so you can use the coarse unglazed section to strike and light the match. One side of the container keeps unused matches at the ready, and the other compartment holds those to be discarded.

“I think that the match striker is a really interesting object because whenever you’re striking a match, you’re sort of doing something ceremonial—you’re lighting a birthday candle, you’re lighting a fire in your fireplace,” Landers says. The context, he muses, is generally warm and positive.

Creating his pieces at the CoOp takes time, generally about three weeks from start to finish. Steps include shaping the wet clay, leaving it in plastic for seven to 10 days to dry slowly, bisque-firing each object to 1,657 degrees to change it from clay to ceramic to make it more durable, glazing it, and then firing it in the kiln again to 2,260 degrees for completion. Landers usually does a batch of 10 to 20 similar objects at a time for each stage.

The Clay CoOp itself is a work of art. Landers opened the 2,400-square-foot space in 2016 to provide a collaborative professional working and educational environment for himself and other clay enthusiasts. Classes range from beginner skills to advanced techniques, providing wheels, kilns and private instruction. At any given time, around 75 students are enrolled, he says.

Landers has a background in art and graphic design, with years of teaching and ceramic production. He sells his creations at theclaycoop.com and through the enterprise Shop Made in DC. Landers also holds five to seven sales each year, either online or in person, but he prefers to present products to customers face to face.

“If you don’t have the story behind it, you don’t know that it’s made in your community,” Landers says. “It’s all made by hand; all the marks on there are my fingers, my touch—and it takes that story to sell the work.”

His most popular products are match strikers ($38) and a small serving plate ($68) with three connected circles, typically used for appetizers or snacks.

All of Landers’ tableware is white, creating a blank canvas to display food and drinks. “It’s supposed to be a part of your daily life, not to be a star,” he says. “I think about my plates as being kind of unfinished until food is on it, so whoever is using it gets to finish the piece of artwork.”

This story appears in the July/August issue of Bethesda Magazine.