A small flap bag colored like glowing embers, deep reds broken by threads of orange — Fire

John Malotte

Leather

I work in leather because it answers back.

A hide begins flat and quiet, and through color, form, stroke, and stitch it becomes something that holds a feeling — a breath, an emotion, a moment of wonder. I hand-mix my base colors and rub them into the leather so the color carries a depth that grows with each successive step.

The panels I cut are flat. Edge and thread color — sometimes complementary, sometimes deliberately at odds — mark the lines where those panels will meet, and stitching lifts them into three dimensions. Form arrives at that moment, and with it both the function of the piece and the feeling in it. Each step asks for patience, and each step gives back more than I put in.

The flap panel, flat and unstitched on the workbench, golden leather covered in brushed swirls — Swirl, flat

The same bag finished, with its strap, the tone-on-tone swirls visible only up close — Swirl, formed

ii.

What I’m after is sensation more than image.

A piece might hold the glow of breathing embers, the shimmer of heat and smoke — not a picture of fire, but the feeling of sitting by one, staring into it. Another is all spontaneity and play. Another keeps something back. The designs are made to open slowly: the longer you look, the more there is to see, and the deeper the feeling runs.

A brick-red bag scattered with loose, hand-painted golden rings — Play, in Tuscan Hearth

The same bag open, rings continuing across the inside panel

The underside of a sage-green bag held in hand, gold rings wrapping around it

A sage-green bag with golden rings and a long matching strap — Play, in Spanish Sage

A plain terra cotta bag, its color quiet and even — Tonewood, in Terra Cotta

A tan bag edged and strapped in red — Tonewood, in Tan

A bright red bag with ochre edges, its red strap coiled beside it — Tonewood, Ochre on Red

iii.

Every good relationship deepens with age, and leather is no different.

Its colors darken and turn earthy; it grows supple with use. I choose color and form that deepen along with it, so nothing I put into a piece works against what the years do to it. Every piece is made to be carried, worn, opened, handed to someone — that is how the feeling leaves my hands.

In the end I want the ease of an old friend, one that holds color and stroke and feeling that deepen as you do. It ages, and you age, together.

The Alto when new: bright forest-green leather, crisp edges, a clearly stamped maker's mark — Alto, 2019

The same Alto seven years on, the green deepened almost to charcoal and the leather softened — The same Alto, 2026

Close view of the handles and the stamped mark, worn soft by years of hands — After seven years of almost daily use

First shown

October 2026

Tennessee Craft Fair

Centennial Park, Nashville

The work is shown and offered in person only. Nothing here is for sale online — come and hold it.

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If you'd like to see a piece, or hear when the next showing is, leave a note. You'll get an email asking you to confirm it; once you do, it comes straight to me.