Uncovering the Rich History and Cultural Significance of Moroccan Pottery: Will it become a lost art?

---

It is exciting to make the transition from a paved road to a road less traveled. The sound of gravel crunching under your vehicles tires while navigating questionable terrain heightens your senses. We are heading to the desert but first our expedition is in search of an ancient form of pottery.

Morocco is a romantic country. It is a mix of brilliant colors against a backdrop of earth tones, and it's easy on the eyes. The rich culture of this timeless land located in north Africa is captured in a pottery called Tamegroute.

We are greeted by a man named Nouriddin, or Nori as he likes to be called. He is wearing a chestnut brown Djellaba. This hooded robe extends past his knees. He is excited for our arrival and instantly transports us back in time as he leads us behind the scenes. This town, also named Tamegroute is home to Nori’s ceramic shop. You can feel the ghosts of generations as you wander around.

There are piles of broken clay in every corner, old tools scattered about, a wooden cart that has seen better days is placed against a wall. Years of untouched moments covered in sand are everywhere. We walk through an archway that is unmistakably Moorish in its design. The smell of earth and burning wood hits you instantly.

The crack of a ceramic shard under my foot gives pause, I assess it quickly and feel relieved that it was not from the stacked plates to my right. A young boy tugs on my shirt and asks for a coin. He quickly gives up the effort after a man sitting on the ground yells something in Arabic. I give him a forced smile and nod.

The artists are strategically placed in an

old-world process. Conversations between the men are most likely about these people standing around who are obviously not from here. I get a smile or two as I grab my camera.

Years ago, I learned that keeping a pocket full of coins helps when you approach a person you want to photograph. I try to be up close and personal with a subject. I want to hear their hands mold the clay, force it to take shape as I capture a moment that will never happen again. I set a coin on the board in front of me. The man looks down at it and then at me. I lift my camera, and he dips his head with approval. I sit on the ground and watch him shape a cup. He lets me into his world for just a moment. The young boy who asked for a coin earlier is sitting against a wall watching me take the man's photograph.

Tamegroute pottery is unique to Morocco and many shops produce these beautiful ceramics. Several operations have started to modernize over the years, but this one has kept its old-world methods for now. Our host waits for a minute as I photograph my surroundings, but soon they force me to move on as the group disappears through another door. I work my way through a maze of halls and find a staircase. The stairs lead to a room filled with ceramics. Bowls and plates are stacked high. Boxes filled with cups hide in the corners. Sunlight breaks through the cracks in a wall and a broken window. The light brings the pottery to life.

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” - Pablo Picasso

The unmistakable green that makes this pottery special is on full display. Green is an important color within the Islamic religion. A color that represents paradise. A mix of manganese, cobalt, and copper are just a few of the minerals that bring this green to life. The clay comes from a river called Oued Draa several kilometers away. Once it has been collected, it is shaped by the hands of artisans who create a one-of-a-kind sculpture that will be used to sip a Moroccan coffee or serve warm Tagine. It may even become a piece of art in someone’s home.

I retrace my steps back to the kiln. Fire, fueled by scraps of wood and palm trees unlock the beauty within this clay. I can feel the heat from these ovens at a distance. I watch a man tend to this process. He stokes the flames. Adding more fuel till the inferno breaches its containment. He moves his hand away just in time. This is someone who has done this before and for that moment he is the master of this element.

Once again, I feel a tug at my shirt. The young boy is back and asks for a coin. This time, I reached into my pocket and hand him ten dirhams. He grabs it with enthusiasm and looks back at the man who scolded him earlier. A purposeful laugh is aimed in the man’s direction before the boy runs back to his duties of mixing clay. I look around this courtyard enclosed by old walls. Men sitting on the ground covered in their work, men moving material from one end to the other. A man playing with fire. This is a process that has been unchanged for many years. All of it to forge a cup, a plate, or a bowl that will one day make its way to Marrakech, London, or New York.

Before leaving, I make my way back to the room at the bottom of the stairs. I find a box filled with cups. It is a mix of green, red, blue, and yellow. It is piled in no particular order or care. One design grabs my attention. I remove it from the box and blow the dust off. This moment of discovery reveals a very nice cup. A cup that will now begin its long journey to my home in a far-off land.