Melissa Meighan
I met Jeff Kleckner in the winter of 1990 because my new romance, ceramic artist George Johnson, was regularly working at Jeff’s studio in Bethlehem. I would pass through and spend the night there as a sanity stop when driving between Manhattan, or a suburb, and Philadelphia on family business; stressful visits dealing with a damaged, and particularly beloved relative.
I was always fully engaged by Jeff’s dry wit, compassion, accurate perceptions, smart-ass jabs and generally welcoming and intelligent conversation, as well as his demonstrated skills as a potter. As I recollect, his conversations were often stimulated by New York Times articles and the state of the world.
Over the past 29 years my place of meeting with Jeff shifted. He went away to graduate school and came back with the talented and loving Susan Arruda. George’s and my visits to Bethlehem became more occasional, although George certainly saw him more—visiting his studio to view (and sometimes buy) his very good work. But other realities intruded, for Jeff and for us. Jeff stayed occasionally at our house in Philly as a bed for a craft show here or somewhere nearby, and he always came with thank you gifts in hand. His intelligence, on-the-mark observations and love of ceramics always came through. At some point he became one of our regulars for Thanksgiving or Christmas meals at our home. Conversation became more diffused because of the group gathering, not necessarily Jeff’s best setting, although there were sometimes others he knew from way back. He was always himself, gift in hand, the funny, intelligent, private and sensitive, if slightly sarcastic person that he was. Stunned by his abrupt disappearance, I miss him very much.
Melissa Meighan
December 19, 2020
I met Jeff Kleckner in the winter of 1990 because my new romance, ceramic artist George Johnson, was regularly working at Jeff’s studio in Bethlehem. I would pass through and spend the night there as a sanity stop when driving between Manhattan, or a suburb, and Philadelphia on family business; stressful visits dealing with a damaged, and particularly beloved relative.
I was always fully engaged by Jeff’s dry wit, compassion, accurate perceptions, smart-ass jabs and generally welcoming and intelligent conversation, as well as his demonstrated skills as a potter. As I recollect, his conversations were often stimulated by New York Times articles and the state of the world.
Over the past 29 years my place of meeting with Jeff shifted. He went away to graduate school and came back with the talented and loving Susan Arruda. George’s and my visits to Bethlehem became more occasional, although George certainly saw him more—visiting his studio to view (and sometimes buy) his very good work. But other realities intruded, for Jeff and for us. Jeff stayed occasionally at our house in Philly as a bed for a craft show here or somewhere nearby, and he always came with thank you gifts in hand. His intelligence, on-the-mark observations and love of ceramics always came through. At some point he became one of our regulars for Thanksgiving or Christmas meals at our home. Conversation became more diffused because of the group gathering, not necessarily Jeff’s best setting, although there were sometimes others he knew from way back. He was always himself, gift in hand, the funny, intelligent, private and sensitive, if slightly sarcastic person that he was. Stunned by his abrupt disappearance, I miss him very much.
Melissa Meighan
December 19, 2020