Steven Kemp

Steve Kemp passed away on May 23rd surrounded by the love of family, friends, and the golden Cape Cod light he cherished. One of the many things that Steve reveled in was telling a vigorous and enthusiastic story, so it feels fitting to share his story with you. Of course, you’ll have to imagine the emphatic energy and bright twinkling eyes that he always added to his tales. Steve was many things, but most of all, he was open, connected and grateful for the day he was living, the people he was with, and the ever present wonders surrounding us all.

He was the oldest of 7 kids, and his dad was in the Navy, off at sea for long stretches. During those times, he stepped in and changed diapers, wrangled his rambunctious siblings, and held down the fort for his mom while they moved every three years, criss-crossing the country from Florida to California. He was forever grateful for this experience, and he loved his role as a caregiver, someone who knew how to meet the needs around him and connect with the people he loved. He relished telling stories of setting up a diaper derby, where he would race his diapered, crawling, and tottering siblings down the hallways. To this day, they all say he was a kind and loving big brother.

He was an adventurer and traveler by nature and hitchhiked around the country, all the way down to Guadalajara, Mexico and back up here to Cape Cod to join the cranberry harvest. He immediately fell in love with the Cape and his crazy community of bog-workers at Troll Village. There he met his closest friend, the mayor of Troll Village, the Troll of Bogmania, Doug Pacheco. Their Leo brotherhood was formed and is eternal.

He met Harry Holl here as well, and in the hallowed Holls of Scargo he found his calling and life’s work as a potter. His love affair with clay started then and never abated. He saw Harry at the wheel and said, “I want to do THAT!” He asked to apprentice and Harry said “No, you don’t know enough yet.” Steve took that as advice rather than rejection, and that moment combined with the words of a fortune teller he happened to meet: “You have luck over your left brow and you need to go back to making art” – sent him back to get his Masters in Art Education at the University of Florida.

That lucky brow, or fate itself, then brought his future wife Linda McNeill down to Florida from Marshfield on a visit with her poor, doomed boyfriend at the time for a week's vacation. Instead of the romantic trip he envisioned, Linda met Steve and an instant, spiritual, soul melding bond was born. She did ride back up to Massachusetts to get her things with her now ex-boyfriend and one can only imagine that long, awkward ride.

In Florida, Steve and Linda started a nursery school and found that they complimented each other beautifully — he was a dreamer and a doer, she was a planner, a people connector, and knew how to get from point A to point B. They were a great team.

With the knowledge and experience gained during this time, Linda and Steve decided it was time to return to the Cape. This time, Harry Holl said “Yes” and Steve became an apprentice. Once that was completed, Linda and Steve opened Kemp Pottery. The shop has now been open for 50 years, serving as a place of connection and growth, providing a way for Steve to create, share his love of nature, nurture apprentices who became a part of his family, and surround himself with the amazing customers who truly became friends.

They started a family as well, and their children Matthew and Becca were blessed with wonderful parents. Steve would regale them around the dinner table with endless, wonderful, magical stories. Even simple things took on a legendary quality when he told a story and that was one of his great gifts, to see the adventure in the everyday and share that energy and enthusiasm with everyone he met. For him, a walk on the beach didn’t have sun on wet rocks, but a golden path, leading to his next wondrous encounter with destiny.

As a father, husband, and friend he was loyal, loving and cherished his relationships above all other things. To love and be loved was the ultimate purpose of life. His love for his grandchildren was a pure expression of this and he exalted in adventuring off with his granddaughters, Ari and Coco, to Italy to commune with the motherland and deepen their connection – and to New York, where they dressed up super fancy (he had a feather bow tie!) and were spectacular at the Metropolitan Opera. He shared an instant and eternal bond with his grandsons, Hayden and Luca. He cherished spending time with Hayden, puttering around in search of their next project and carefully clipping every tree in the yard. With Luca he fostered a wonder for the natural world, bonding over crabs, whales, sharks, and their shared love of the nature writer, John Hay.

As an artist, he was adventurous, hilariously ambitious, psychotically hard working, and sometimes maddeningly (but ultimately inspiringly) unafraid of failure. He was open to pretty much anything. He drew, sculpted, crafted, wrote poems and recorded a heart-meltingly off key and meanderingly earnest song about mermaids.

He absolutely loved nature. It was his most trusted muse and he saw symbols and metaphors for his life in every bird song, crab on the beach, or rippling cloud in the sky.

The last few years haven’t been easy – Linda died five years ago and his heart broke. He was open to the grief and to the opportunities for connection and solace that sharing and communing about that grief brought.

When he was faced with his own mortality, he opened again to the positive possibilities of connection and gratitude. The golden path. The Yellow Box. Falling into loving arms. The tunnel of Light. The spectrum colors. Linda, on a far distant star. Wow.

While Steve’s story is ending and changing, it is important to note that the shape of clay on the wheel is not a circle. It is not closed. It is a spiral, a record of the potter’s hands on the clay over time. Coiling, repeating, open, returning to itself in a new way.

Steve is with Linda now, home in the indescribable wonder that surrounds us all.

He is survived by his son, Matthew, and daughter, Rebecca, who know how lucky they are, and their spouses Meghan and Steve, who he loved, cherished and admired. His mother Carolyn, whose strength and companionship he valued and treasured. His grandchildren Ariana, Charlotte, Hayden and Luca are blessed with and entrusted to carry on the love and wonder he had for life. His siblings, who are his only known matches for story-telling prowess and who he loved dearly: Rick, Bill, Dave, Edi-Marie, Chris, and was predeceased by his sister, Judy.

In lieu of flowers please consider donating to The Lily House where Steve spent his last days. It’s an incredible community of people devoted to living well and dying with dignity.