In 1999, I took a leap of faith and started my own pottery business. I worked on my porch and in my utility room with a pitiful-looking Skutt 1027 kiln, a board stretched across my washer and dryer, and a small worktable—nothing more. I had no wheel. My tools were simple: a rolling pin, a few ribs, a wire cutter, buckets for reclaim, and whatever hand tools I could afford at the time. I had already decided that I wanted to do this with as little help as possible from my grandparents. I needed to find my own style, my own way, my own voice in the work.

I needed to let the work take shape through my hands, not someone else’s, learning and growing through mistakes along the way. I outgrew that space in a matter of months. When it became clear I needed room to continue, my dad built me a small studio in his backyard. Within a year of that, my grandmother became ill with Alzheimer’s. My granddad was suddenly trying to care for her while still running Peppertown Pottery—something that was nearly impossible to sustain. He eventually asked me to move my business there and take on the responsibility of running both his operation and my own.
Moving my work to Peppertown Pottery also meant working inside someone else’s name. I was known as the granddaughter. People knew there was a granddaughter helping with the work, but they did not know my name. My pots were handled in the shadow of a legacy that was not mine, and I struggled to step out from under that without rejecting the place that had formed me.

“I learned to carry the weight of another name while quietly earning my own.”

I learned from that season. Working inside someone else’s name taught me patience and discipline. It forced me to pay attention to the work itself rather than recognition, to consistency rather than visibility. I learned that a reputation cannot be rushed and that good work has to be done long before it is noticed. That discipline—showing up, doing the work, and letting it speak in its own time—became foundational to how I work and how I measure success.
My name did matter to me. I worked hard to make pieces that were different—work that reflected my hand, my instincts, and my way of seeing form. I wanted the work to be recognizable as mine. At first, I named my business Clay Art and worked under that name for a short time. But gradually, without planning it, people stopped using the business name and began referring to the work simply as Tab. That shift mattered—not because it marked success, but because it told me the work had begun to speak clearly enough to be identified with me.
Being recognized by name pushed me to be bolder and more distinctive in my work. By then, the habits were already formed—patience, room to move within the work, and attention to form and detail. Boldness meant clarity and intention. The work had been shaped slowly, long before it carried my name, and that foundation still holds.

Tab Boren

Peppertown Pottery began as a hobby. My grandmother, Euple Riley, was 52 when she took two semesters of pottery classes at the local college, simply to learn something new. What started as an interest gradually became a serious commitment to the craft and, eventually, a working studio. Her husband, Titus Riley, supported that work from the beginning, bringing his mechanical skill and practical knowledge into the studio.

From the beginning, the operation was built by hand. Titus Riley constructed nearly all of the equipment himself—the pottery wheel, pug mill, kilns, and even a kick wheel. Rather than purchasing ready-made systems, they relied on mechanical skill and practical problem-solving. They also made their own clay, purchasing raw clay for ten cents a ton and processing it themselves. Understanding the material from its most basic form was part of the work.

The first Peppertown Pottery studio was a converted chicken house. It was not designed as a commercial space, but it served its purpose. The focus was never on appearance; it was on learning the process, producing good work, and doing it consistently.

“Their studio became my classroom.”

This is where I got my start. From the age of 12, I spent my summers and free time in the studio with my grandparents, Euple and Titus Riley. I learned the craft through repetition and observation—wedging clay, loading kilns, cleaning tools, and paying attention to form, balance, and finish. Their studio became my classroom, where I learned to respect the material and the slow, disciplined nature of the work. After graduating high school, I began working for them, moving from assisting to producing, and learning what it takes to sustain a working pottery studio day after day.

In 1999, I started my own pottery business, carrying forward what I learned in that space. What began as a hobby with Euple and Titus Riley was passed down to another generation, shaped by years of practice and attention to detail. If my grandmother had never taken a pottery class, I would never have been introduced to clay. Over time, pottery became more than a skill—it became a passion rooted in process, material, and form. Peppertown Pottery carries forward a love of clay, a practiced patience, and an understanding of beauty shaped and handed down across generations.

Tab Boren Pottery is a collection of handcrafted tableware and decorative forms born from the intersection of art, craftsmanship, and thoughtful design. Each piece is made by hand—wheel-thrown or hand-built from stoneware clay—and carries the visible marks of the artist’s process. Subtle fingerprints, gentle smudges, and slight variations in form and glaze are not flaws but signatures of authenticity, reflecting the presence of the maker and the individuality of each object.
The forms are inspired by organic shapes found in nature—soft curves, balanced proportions, and quiet asymmetry. These influences guide the work toward pieces that feel grounded, tactile, and timeless. Whether functional or purely decorative, the pottery is designed to be lived with: durable enough for everyday use, yet refined enough to elevate a table or space for special occasions.
All pieces are fired at high temperatures to create dense, long-lasting ceramics. Because each item is handmade, natural variations in size, shape, color, texture, and finish are expected and embraced. While care is taken to ensure consistency within sets, exact duplication is neither possible nor desired. Many glazes are special-effect finishes, resulting in shifts between matte and gloss, depth of color, and surface character—subtle differences that give each piece its own identity.
Tab Boren Pottery values the balance between function and beauty. These works are meant to be mixed, matched, and used—quietly transforming everyday meals and spaces into intentional, meaningful experiences through well-made, thoughtfully designed ceramic art.