Meet Don Katz of Los Angeles

Today we’d like to introduce you to Don Katz.

Don, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
I was born in Israel and raised in Orange County from the age of three, the child of Slovakian parents and Holocaust survivor grandparents. Food and hospitality were my first loves—I studied restaurant management at San Francisco State and managed restaurants in SF before moving to New York to pursue a master’s in Food Studies at NYU.
A year into the program, I got bacterial meningitis. I woke from a coma blind and temporarily paralyzed—just two days before 9/11. My life as I knew it was gone.

I returned to Orange County to continue my medical care and rebuild my life. Eventually, I opened a wine bar, which I ran for five years before trying (unsuccessfully) to return to grad school. I spent the next chapter of my life in New York, searching for direction.
In 2016, I moved back to Los Angeles. It wasn’t until a few years later that I discovered pottery at the Braille Institute. That moment opened something in me. Pottery became a way to create, to feel, to reconnect with the world. I now work as The Blind Potter out of my backyard studio, building a tactile life that’s shaped by resilience, curiosity, and beauty made by hand.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
The hardest part of going blind wasn’t just losing my sight—it was how people suddenly started treating me like I’d vanished. I also lost the ability to walk for a while and still deal with balance issues, but it’s the way society reacts to blindness that’s often the bigger challenge.
I used to model a bit when I was younger—and to be honest, I still don’t mind being looked at. I want the world to see blind people, not just step around us. But there’s often this awkwardness, like people don’t know what to do with me. I like to imagine they’re thinking, “Who’s that stylish guy?”—not just “Oh, he’s blind.”
People are always surprised when they find out I throw pottery without sight. But my hands do the seeing. I center and shape clay entirely by feel. Pottery gave me a way to create and connect—and to reclaim a space in the world on my own terms.
Still, even in the art world, accessibility can be tough. Touching sculpture is often considered off-limits, and when you’re blind, asking to experience art through your hands feels like asking for special permission to belong. I dream of a world where that kind of access isn’t an exception—it’s the norm.
And then, of course, there are the absurd moments—like the time I was at a Chinese restaurant and the waitress waved the menu in front of my face, just in case I didn’t know it was there. You learn to laugh, take a deep breath, and keep going.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I work under the name The Blind Potter. My practice is rooted in ceramics, and everything I make is shaped entirely by touch. I throw on the wheel and hand-build, always pushing myself to improve my skills and deepen my understanding of the material.
At the moment, I’m developing a line of tactile tableware I call Blishware—a blend of “blind” and “dishware.” It’s functional work designed to feel as good in the hand as it looks on the table. I want people to engage with these pieces beyond just the visual—to explore form, weight, and surface.
I also sculpt ceramic roses, originally inspired by the Depeche Mode Violator album cover. Each one is slightly imperfect and completely unique, like emotional portraits in clay. My work is about presence, memory, and the tactile richness of everyday objects.
I built a fully accessible backyard studio in Los Angeles, which was recently featured in the New York Times I also teach and speak about the intersections of art, disability, and creative expression. My blindness isn’t a limitation in the studio; it’s part of the perspective that shapes everything I make.

What matters most to you? Why?
What matters most to me is being able to fully participate in the world—not just getting by, but being part of things, with access and ease built in. I don’t want to feel like I have to ask permission just to keep up. I want the world to be a little more thoughtful, a little more flexible—and a lot more fun.
I also hope people stop taking life for granted. Things can change in an instant. I didn’t expect to go blind or have balance issues—but here we are. Most of us walk around assuming tomorrow will look like today. I just want people to really see their lives while they’re living them.
I try to remember that myself. Some days are messier than others, but I remind myself: I’m stronger than dirt. That’s my motto. Clay cracks, collapses, and still becomes something beautiful. So do we.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.theblindpotter.com
• Instagram: @blindpotter