The Designer

As a craftsman, my work has always centered on glassblowing and pottery, rather than industrial product design. I’ve spent years honing my skills in creating one-of-a-kind pieces, and coffee cups were never something I felt compelled to make. The process of shaping handles, applying them, and the space required to create each cup didn’t appeal to me, especially with so many coffee cups already on the market. I preferred throwing bowls on the pottery wheel or working with glass—pieces that felt more expressive and less like mass production.

However, over time, I began to see the value in adding a coffee cup to my portfolio. Once that idea settled in, I started thinking about what my version of a coffee cup could look like. I knew right away that I didn’t want to make another simple, straight-sided cup. I wanted a design with a unique silhouette. And, I was determined not to use a traditional handle, which meant I’d have to come up with something entirely different.
While sitting at the potter’s wheel one day, I decided to throw a cylinder with a bowl shape on top. This felt like the perfect way to bring some innovation to the form. The next challenge was figuring out how to create a lifting mechanism. In the early stages of my design, I added a large, semi-circular flange to the side of the cup, but there was no consideration for ergonomics at that point. I was more focused on the fresh idea of the shape.

Seeking some guidance, I visited my chiropractor with my early concept and asked a few simple questions about what would make the design more ergonomic. With his feedback in hand, I dove into further research. I studied the average hand sizes for men and women, the typical volume of coffee cups, the temperature of coffee, and even the infamous McDonald’s hot coffee lawsuit to understand what might be involved in creating a safer, more comfortable experience.

With this research, I started reworking the design. The focus shifted to ensuring consistency in the size and shape of the cup. I taught myself slip casting and mold making as a way to create more uniform pieces, which helped streamline the process and enhance consistency. I also worked to refine the flange, ensuring it fit comfortably against the thumb. One key concern was protecting the hand from the heat of the coffee, as the hand would need to wrap around the cup’s body.

The next phase of the design process included integrating the new insights. I kept the basic shape and started slip casting single walled vessels. I also created a custom “comfort koozie” to fit around the cup to protect the hand from the heat since the cup was single-walled. While the koozie worked well functionally, it detracted from the design’s visual appeal. To improve the look without sacrificing function, I decided to persue a double-wall design. This would eliminate the need for the koozie and allow the cup to retain heat while keeping the hand safe. The flange would now fit comfortably in the crook of the thumb, allowing the fingers to wrap naturally around the vessel.

During this redesign process, I consulted a licensed occupational therapist to assess the cup’s ergonomic features and ensure it was truly beneficial for users. Their feedback confirmed that the changes I’d made were on the right track.

As I continued refining my design, I began to consider a new direction to better address the needs of people with limited hand mobility. By this time, the physical toll of handcrafting had caught up with me, and I was officially diagnosed with Basal Thumb Arthritis. This diagnosis gave me a personal understanding of the challenges people face with joint pain or reduced grip strength, and it sparked a deeper reflection on how I could create vessels that truly prioritized human-centered design.

I started to wonder if there was a way to make a cup easier to use for individuals with these limitations. That’s when I began to explore the concept of an open-ended handle—one that didn’t require the traditional grip. The idea was to design a handle that would allow the cup to rest comfortably in the hand, hanging from the fingers without strain. A wider, more robust handle shaft would provide greater durability and comfort, while a single attachment point would allow larger hands to slide in effortlessly, avoiding the restriction of a closed loop.

This concept was a natural evolution of the ergonomic principles I had been developing, and it seemed like the perfect solution to enhance the functionality of the cup without sacrificing its artistic integrity.

The open-ended handle allowed the cup to hang effortlessly from the hand, a feature that could offer significant benefits for those with limited range of motion. However, as I continued to think about how to make the design even more accessible, I realized that for individuals with more severe hand limitations, the “handle” needed to evolve further. I envisioned a design where the handle would curve around the wrist, almost like a bracelet. This would allow someone with limited use of one hand to wear the cup on their wrist, sip their coffee, and still be able to use their other hand for tasks without the need to grip the cup.
After refining these two new designs, I sought feedback from professionals in the field of ergonomics to confirm their functionality and ensure they met the needs of people with mobility challenges. Both designs were met with enthusiasm, and I felt confident that I had created a series of cups that not only stood out visually but also offered real, practical benefits for a wider range of users. It was a satisfying moment—knowing I had successfully merged form, function, and inclusivity in a way that could improve everyday experiences for many people