Potter at the wheel

There is a lot of history in the old mill building on Thorpe Street in Needham Heights -- fashion, artistic, and personal.

In its first 90 years, the mill went from making mittens for Victorian women to manufacturing terry-cloth wristbands for the Jane Fonda fitness set.

For most of the last two decades, the rambling wooden structure has been best known for its earthenware.

As proprietor of the Potters Shop in the mill building, Steven Branfman has created nationally renowned raku pottery and taught thousands of children and adults. Now the building's only tenant, Branfman could be its last.

Real estate developers covet the property, in a woodsy neighborhood just steps from the high school. And the landlord says he can no longer afford to keep it.

But Branfman has a dream that could save the building from the wrecking ball: He wants to convert it into a collective for painters, sculptors, writers, and other artists seeking a space to be creative.

Branfman, who is 54, has another reason for wanting to preserve the building. It's there that he worked with his finest student, his son Jared, who died a year and a half ago at age 23.

Landlord and friend Lewis Cohen said he's on board with Branfman's plans. They first talked about the idea several years ago when Cohen began thinking about selling the mill. The idea gained urgency last month, when Cohen's mainstay tenant, the Best Lock Co., moved out.

"Steve has devoted his life to education and the arts. His vision of what this building could become is something my wife and I support," said Cohen.

The landlord and his tenant seem an unlikely pair at first glance: Cohen, burly with a bass voice; Branfman, slender and soft spoken.

Cohen has taken pottery classes from Branfman for years, and has developed a specialty -- candy dishes.

He is asking $1.7 million for the property. "If we tore this down to make houses, I could probably make more money," he said. "I've come to love this space." While there's no fixed timeline for a purchase, Branfman said he needs to raise $600,000 "immediately" to pay off Cohen's mortgage.

The potter said he hopes to find benefactors with an interest in supporting the region's arts scene. He also is applying for grants and loans, and has asked Needham for $750,000 in Community Preservation Act money. If the town's CPA committee approves his application, Town Meeting would be asked in May to OK the project.

The mill could use a paint job, and the carpet in the vacant office space looks as if it hasn't been shampooed since Bill Clinton was president.

But when Branfman walks along the empty halls, he hears the laughter of children taking painting classes and sees artisans at work in their private studios. He imagines a first-floor gallery where high school students and emerging artists make their public debuts. Put some benches in the woods out back, and members could enjoy a respite from their work.

He wants to restore the outside of the mill to its original character. Inside, he would like to put in 30 studios, each 600 square feet, and sell them to local artists for around $100,000. He wants to open the collective to students. He'd like to include classroom space in the building and display areas for their work. Branfman said organizers of Needham's kindergarten after-school program have inquired about moving the program into the space.

Branfman points to similar collectives, such as the Fort Point Arts Community in Boston, ArtSpace-Maynard , the Brickbottom Artists Association in Somerville, and the Waltham Mills Artists' Association, in the former Waltham Cotton and Wool Factory.

"Needham has nothing like this. The artists are scattered about," said Branfman. "The closest thing to a Needham arts identity is Needham Open Studios," a collaborative that offers a website and a map to help patrons find the two dozen or so members who live in town.

He opened the Potters Shop in Needham in 1989, after having run a similar studio and workspace in his hometown of Newton for a dozen years. In addition to his monthly workshops, he allows professional and amateur artisans to use the shop's wheels, kilns, and glazes for a fee. The second-floor space also is home to his 800-title library of pottery books and his private studio.

Branfman built a name for himself by producing raku vases and pots with a textured, mother-of-pearl finish, and has written several books on pottery.

Modern raku is based a method that dates to 16th-century Japan, where it was used to create vessels for the culture's intricate tea ceremonies. It involves rapid firing in the kiln, perhaps an hour or two, compared with typical firing times of up to 16 hours. The contemporary technique creates a distinctive finish -- crackle glazes, lustrous metallic surfaces, black unglazed areas.

Branfman's two sons, Jared and Adam, spent much of their childhoods in the Needham studio. They took classes from their father and hosted pottery-making birthday parties.

The older son, Jared, displayed a natural talent for the art form, and was among Branfman's students at Thayer Academy in Braintree, where Branfman still teaches part time.

"He was the best pottery student I've ever had in class," said Branfman, stressing that he was speaking as an artist, not a parent. The two dreamed of running a father-son studio.

Jared attended the New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University , eventually developing his own style. During his third year at college, he was diagnosed with spinal-cranial cancer. When it became clear that he would not be able to return to his studies, the college awarded him his bachelor's degree in fine arts.

Devastated by his son's death in September 2005, Branfman stopped making pots and phased out teaching pottery classes. He produced one tea bowl a day, an exercise that helped him cope with the pain of his grief.

He has 365 tea bowls lined up on floor-to-ceiling shelves in his studio room. Some are partially glazed; others are bare. They come in different shapes and textures. Branfman said he'll finish them when he feels ready.

Branfman's other son, Adam, a Skidmore College graduate, is making a career as a professional bicyclist. Last year the family gathered an 18-person team for the PanMass Challenge, raising money for the Jimmy Fund in honor of Jared.

It's still difficult for Branfman to talk about his son. He doesn't want people to think he's using his personal story as a sympathy tactic to win support for his artists' collective.

"But it's part of who I am, and what this project is about."

Lauren K. Meade can be reached at lmeade@globe.com.