The Object Diaries | Diary Entry: The Jaree Pottery Tray, 1990s

Tiny tales of the objects we find, love, and bring back to life.

Who I Am

I’m a large pottery tray, 33 cm wide and 5 cm high, weighing a steady 1.593 kg. My glaze is a soft, pale green, the colour of eucalyptus leaves in morning light. I'm not stained but mottled with colour and glaze as if light is diffusing across me. Two curved handles frame me like open arms, and across my surface, a single painted branch arcs in quiet rhythm. Beneath, my maker’s mark reads Jaree Pottery. A name that belonged to the gentle, grounded artistry of 1990s Australian studio ceramics.

Where I was Found

I was found in the Mount Lofty Ranges, waiting patiently on a dusty shelf. I was meant to be found by chance, to arrive quietly and belong instantly. To delight the finder, my keeper. And I did.

What I Remember

I’ve held fruit, bread, and gatherings of small things, each leaving faint traces of use and affection. My glaze carries the soft patina of time, and my painted branch still feels alive, as though it might sway if the light shifts.

How I Was Made

I was shaped by hands that understood balance. Wide enough to serve, light enough to lift, but stunning some say in size and service. My clay was turned, trimmed, and glazed in tones that echo the Australian landscape: muted greens, earthy warmth, and simplicity that never tries too hard. The Jaree mark beneath me is my signature of care.

Where I Belong Now

I rest easily in your collection, a piece that bridges utility and art. I don’t demand attention; I invite it. I belong wherever calmness is needed, on a table, a shelf, or simply in view.

What I Want You to Know

I carry the gentle nostalgia of 1990's Australian studio pottery, a time when makers glazed in soft bushland colours and shaped pieces with quiet, human intention.

I was made to hold beauty in everyday moments, the kind that doesn’t announce itself, but lingers quietly. I am a constant reminder of craftsmanship that was meant to last.

And now, in your hands, I’ve found my stillness again.