Clay, Wood and the Art of Building a Life Together
In a detached garage nestled at the end of a long driveway in Youngsville, you’ll find the studios of husband and wife duo Jody and Victoria Smith. They sit stacked atop one other with Victoria’s pottery studio above and Jody’s wood turning shop on the ground floor. On any given day, the scent of kiln-fired glaze mingles with the warm aroma of freshly turned walnut, drifting into the quiet neighborhood air.
The first thing you notice in Victoria Smith’s studio is the hum of work. Not the mechanical sort, but the softer rhythm of hands and heart; wet clay waiting its turn, bowls cooling on shelves, tiles laid out like a mosaic in progress. Jody, her husband, stands by the doorway, the faint scent of walnut and cherry following him in from his own workspace. Together, they are Throw & Turn, a creative partnership where pottery meets wood turning, and function marries form.
Victoria’s path to clay was a sharp turn off her prior path “I had a botched surgery,” she recalls, “and they told me I wouldn’t be able to water-ski again. Six weeks later, I took a pottery class in Zebulon. Four one-hour classes. After the second, I came home and ordered a wheel.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I had learned almost nothing, but I knew—this is what I’m going to do.” By the fourth class, she had found a kiln on Facebook Marketplace, and it was in Jody’s house before they were even married. In the years since, she’s moved from wheel-thrown bowls to slab-built work, experimenting with glazes that ripple and run like watercolor across stoneware. While many potters in North Carolina lean toward traditional mugs and earthy tones, Victoria leans towards unexpected colors and bold forms—egg plates, chip-and-dip bowls, and house-number tiles inspired by the bright, sun baked architecture of the West Coast.
“Our State Magazine just bought a batch of my pieces for their store,” she says, still sounding a little surprised. “Sometimes I think, ‘Do people really like this?’ But then I see photos from customers showing it in their homes, and it hits me that they do.”
In the shop downstairs, Jody’s work smells of forests, polish, and sawdust. He has been woodworking most of his life, out of obligation first and love later. “My family is always if they wanted something they made it instead of buying it. So I've always done woodworking,” he says. About ten years ago, he bought his first lathe. At first, he thought woodturning would be “instant gratification”—a quick bowl from a fresh log. Instead, it turned out to be a slow art.
“From tree to table can take six months,” he explains, pointing out a rough-turned walnut bowl sitting on the ground. “You turn it green, let it dry, and then turn it again so it stays round. Big bowls are even trickier because you can’t just buy wood like that already dry. Sometimes we’ll drive to the mountains to get the right piece.”
When they work together, Victoria makes the ceramic elements first—plates, bowls, or jars—then Jody fits wooden bases, lids, or pedestals to match. Their cake stands and tiered serving pieces, where warm wood meets glossy glaze, have become bestsellers at shows. “People love the combination pieces,” Jody says. “It’s something they don’t see anywhere else.”
Their booths at markets across the area tell the story of their partnership. There are Victoria’s wavy bowls in crystalline glazes, Jody’s walnut charcuterie boards and sycamore platters, and the pieces where their crafts overlap, drawing people in for a closer look.
Selling wasn’t always part of the plan. Victoria thought pottery would be an expensive hobby, like the boat she used to ski behind. But after encouragement from her father, Gary Taber, a prolific sculptor who works in stone, metal, and clay, she tried a small Christmas show. “I was terrified,” she says. “I thought, no one’s going to buy anything. But I sold about $800 worth that day. I couldn’t believe it.”
Now, craft shows and markets mark the rhythm of their year. Summer is for stockpiling work for fall fairs, the Mountain State Fair, and the State Fair. Winter weekends, when fishing slows, are spent side by side in the shop. “We used to be in the same room, back when we didn’t have my shop separate upstairs” Victoria says. “Now we’re on different floors, but we still spend many nights working together.”
Their creative dynamic is as much about personality as it is about craft. Victoria is the optimist who believes everything is “figure-outable.” She’s quick to try a new glaze, a new form, a new market. Jody is methodical, his work bound to the pace of drying wood and the patience it demands. “She’ll tell me we need ten lidded jars for Christmas shows,” he says, smiling. “I have to be in the right headspace. But I started wood turning so we could do something together, and that’s still the best part.”
Inspiration flows in both directions. Victoria’s mother’s love for a wall of ceramic flowers at a restaurant in Mexico led her to create dozens of her own, now sold as wall décor or even whimsical drawer pulls. Jody’s knack for repurposing old trees led to a lamp that sold immediately, only to prompt a commission for a matching one, sending them on a hunt for wood that looked just like the original.
Their customers are loyal. Some come back to every market for another piece, others discover them by chance, and a few find their way through online searches. “One of the things I love most,” Victoria says, “is getting photos from people of our work in their homes. You see how they use it, how it becomes part of their lives. That’s the best.”
They find balance outside of the studio too. They fish. They visit Victoria’s father, bouncing ideas off him for new designs. They dream about the next show, the next form, the next collaboration. And they keep making, because for both of them, making is more than a business.
“I would never do a show on my own,” Jody says. “If it weren’t for her, I’d just give my work away to friends at Christmas. But this way, we get to share it, and people actually want it.”
Victoria nods. “It’s about enjoying it. As long as we keep loving the process, we’re doing it right.”
In their world, clay and wood are never just materials. They’re the means by which two lives, two crafts, and two sets of hands have found a shared rhythm—one that’s as much about shaping as it is about growing. And like a freshly thrown bowl or a patiently turned slab of walnut, it’s a rhythm that only gets better with time.
