Our Story

When my mom, Sally Silberberg, opened The Clay Pot in 1969, she was fresh out of college, with a baby in tow and a bold idea: to turn a $150 Park Slope storefront—once a butcher shop with its old chopping block and black-and-white tile floor—into her ceramics studio. She set up shelves in the front to sell her pottery, an electric kiln in the back, and a playpen for me beside her wheel.

A few years later, my parents moved us to western Massachusetts and founded Mud Dauber Farm, named for the wasps who built tiny clay nests in the barn alongside them. They built a large brick kiln and produced pottery that found its way to stores across the country, including Neiman Marcus and the original Pottery Barn.

In 1980, a fire destroyed their studio. With their own pottery production gone, The Clay Pot evolved into a gallery representing the work of other artists, expanding into jewelry, glass, and fine craft. My mom always said, "Adversity is the agent of change," and that philosophy has shaped our story ever since.

After the stock market crash in the late 1980s threatened the business again, my dad placed a small ad in the Village Voice for a wedding ring show. They borrowed rings from artist friends and sold twenty that weekend, planting the seed for what would become The Clay Pot's signature focus: handcrafted designer jewelry.

Over the next three decades, The Clay Pot became a Park Slope institution—a place where artists were championed, neighbors gathered, and generations of couples found their engagement rings and wedding bands. We watched children grow up and return years later to buy rings of their own. It became much more than a store; it became part of people's lives.

Although I grew up in western Massachusetts, I was always connected to The Clay Pot. I started working there every Christmas when I was thirteen, a family tradition that became my education in artists, customers, and community. Eventually I took the reins, helping guide the business into one of New York City's best-known destinations for independent designer jewelry, including opening a second location in Manhattan.

In 2019, after fifty years in Park Slope, I made the heartbreaking decision to close our original Brooklyn store. It remains one of the few decisions I still second-guess. Customers walked in crying when they heard the news. We created what became known as the "Feelings Corner"—a giant roll of paper where people wrote their Clay Pot memories. By the end it stretched more than one hundred feet, filled with stories of engagements, anniversaries, first gifts, and neighborhood friendships. Reading those messages reminded me that The Clay Pot had never simply sold beautiful things. We had become woven into the fabric of a community.

We carried that spirit to Manhattan, but when COVID shut New York City down, everything changed overnight. I called my mother and asked what to do.

She said simply, "Pack up all the jewelry and get it out of there."

So I did.

I filled trugs and boxes, packed my Subaru to the roof, and drove north to the Hudson Valley, not knowing how long I'd be running The Clay Pot remotely—only that I would find a way to keep it alive.

That unexpected move opened a new chapter. I became deeply involved in environmental and civic work and now serve as the elected Town Supervisor of Gallatin, New York. That broader sense of community continues to shape how I run The Clay Pot today: with a commitment to independent artists, ethically sourced materials, lasting relationships, and jewelry that carries meaning.

Today, The Clay Pot has found its new home at 253½ Warren Street in Hudson, New York. We represent more than seventy-five independent jewelry artists and designers from across the country, many of whom we've worked with for decades. Whether you're searching for an engagement ring, wedding bands, or a piece to mark an everyday milestone, our goal is the same as it has always been: to help you find something you'll treasure for a lifetime.

Looking back, it's remarkable how many times The Clay Pot has reinvented itself—from a playpen beside a potter's wheel, to a barn with a brick kiln, to a beloved Brooklyn storefront, to a Subaru packed with jewelry headed north. Through every chapter, one thing has never changed: our belief in handmade work, and the stories that jewelry can tell.

With love and gratitude,
Tara Silberberg
Second-generation owner, The Clay Pot