The Happy Potters

Fanning the fires were early struggles with a scant pottery-buying public, scarce capital, an unreliable clay body and unsolicited opinions. "People had all sorts of reasons why we shouldn't have come here [to Clonmel in St. Mary]," says Donald, 57, who along with Belva, 56, left the island's capital Kingston as newly married 2-somethings. "If we had listened to them we would probably be trapped in some windowless office right now."

But that would have been a crying shame. Almost three decades after flipping the rural-urban exodus on its head, the career misfits have won the kind of acclaim most officebound workers never even daydream about (in 1994 they received the prestigious Musgrave Medals, national commendations for their contributions to the arts)-but it's not like the Johnsons are keeping score. "We never planned on winning any awards," says Belva, whose work was chosen on behalf of the Jamaican people in 1982 as an inauguration gift for Colombian president Virgilio Barca, "all we wanted was to be masters of our own destiny."

But focusing on the question of who you are, then connecting the answer to work you truly love has a funny way of attracting success. Not that . all forms of success get recognized. Earning a living while staying true to their convictions has been the Johnsons' biggest achievement, but it's the kind of feat people hardly ever read about. If it were, more paragraphs would be written like this:
By no means rich, the Johnsons live in a cozy cottage you wouldn't besurprised to see in Home and Garden Magazine, perhaps under the heading "pleasant rural retreats. " There, Donald's smokehouse stands on one side of their bungalow a few feet from their kiln. His dinner specialty, smoked chicken flavored by mango, apple, orange and Iychee fruitwood is a family favorite. So too is Belva's breakfasts, usually steamed cabbage with salt fish, red herring and johnnycakes. The leftovers keep their dogs, Skippy, Prince and Dusty, fat and happy.
And less like this:
In 2002 the publicity-shy couple received an invitation to showcase works at the Biennale Internationale d'Art Ceramique, a contemporary ceramic arts festival held in Belgium that year. The invite rubbers tamped their skills as world class, and enhanced solid resumes already made impressive by an award for innovation and creativity in kiln design from the Jamaica Society of Scientists and Technologists in 1989

But the kind of triumphs the world chooses to celebrate is someone else's problem. The secret to Belva and Donald's kind of success is that they never sweat the small stuff, like how they come across in a magazine. Their energies are reserved for making art that's meaningful to them and other people as well. "I like to use the images of plants in my pieces," says Belva, who etches her garden-grown heliconias on her pots and ornamental plates. "They have an uplifting quality that I like to share." Even Donald has his own ubiquitous image: the female form. Many of his pieces display drawings of longtorsoed women in their birthday suits. "I love art and I love the satisfaction of drawing the human body," he says in a tone that is mostly always serious. "It's one of the hardest things to do well."

Somehow the life-affirming-qualityof-art-stuff all makes sense to Peace Corps volunteers, Nicole Veligi, 25, and Madeleine Driscoll, 24. Recently the Johnsons showed both women-from New York and Columbia, Maryland, respectively-how to turn lumps of clay into meaningful artistic expression. Says Veligi: "We invited ourselves over to their studio [after seeing their work in an ice cream store in Highgate, a town just a few miles outside of Clonmel] and asked if we could help out in exchange for being apprentices." Both had only a rudimentary knowledge of the art form thanks to high school art classes, but they were soon helping Belva and Donald with simple tasks. "The time and effort put in is incredible," says Driscoll of Belva and Donald, "but it's a happy environment, and I really enjoyed being there."

Having students has been deeply satisfying. Before leaving Kingston for Clonmel all those year ago, Belva taught art at a prominent Kingston high school, while Donald acted as head ceramics tutor at the Jamaica School of Art, their alma mater. After 30 years away from the classroom, it seems they're right back where they started. "It's hard not to feel like a success when everyday feels like a holiday," says Belva, who still sports a small afro, "sometimes I even think I'm dreaming. I only hope no one tries to wake me up."