Rie threw with an economy of style using a minimum of water, and was greatly amused by the way many potters in Britain appeared to slosh water on the pots during throwing. She stepped off the wheel after throwing as clean and spotless as when she went on.Technically, Rie created surface interest through overlayering slips and glazes and loading the clay body with metal oxides so they would bleed into the glaze. Firings were long and slow and involved a short period of sleep snatched between kiln adjustments. As materials became more refined over the years, effects could not always be repeated, though endless testing took place to develop new glazes and colours. Potters curious to know how certain effects were achieved were given scant information, though more recently recipes were divulged and published, but always with the warning that they only worked for her.Pots by her shown in the Lion and Unicorn Pavilion in the Festival of Britain in 1951 captured the progressive spirit of the time with their refined shapes and cool black-and-white glazes. Exhibitions at the old Burlington Galleries above the Royal Academy and at the Berkeley Gallery brought her pots (and those of Coper) before a small but appreciative audience Galleries overseas were equally if not more enthusiastic.

It was not until the Arts Council's retrospective exhibition in 1967 that she gained the official recognition she merited. A year later she was appointed OBE and received an Honorary Doctorate at the Royal College of Art.1981 was a memorable year; Hans Coper died, she was advanced CBE, while a large retrospective exhibition shown at the Sainsbury Centre for the Arts, Norwich, and the Victoria and Albert Museum demonstrated the full range of her genius. In 1987 she was one of four potters selected for the commemorative series of postage stamps of British potters - recognition of the status of pottery and of the talent of the chosen potters.Further recognition followed. In 1991 she was created a Dame and in 1992 a large retrospective exhibition at the Crafts Council Gallery surveyed her career as a potter. Highly acclaimed and attracting record attendances, the exhibition introduced her work to yet a new generation of potters.A continual stream of visitors came to see her. They were politely shown round the studio and, with traditional Viennese courtesy, offered strong coffee or tea along with home-made chocolate cake or fruit pudding.

Spare moments between visitors were spent in the studio making or finishing pots and Rie often worked late into the night. The living-room, which looked out on gardens, retained its 1930s elegance, its design of straight lines, natural coloured white and pale cream fabrics and dark wood softened by copious pots of flowers. It had the soothing calm of a retreat in which the only change over the years was the pile of books in the corner which seemed to grow in height.Quietly spoken and still with a strong Viennese accent, Rie could be both alarming and delightful, her small trim figure carrying a commanding presence. Her acute observation of contemporary work, of which for the most part she was highly critical, could make her seem forthright in her opinions, but these were always tinged with kindness and understanding.

Supportive of her friends and ex-students, she resisted becoming a public figure despite teaching part-time at Camberwell School of Art in London, never courting publicity and preferring not to join organisations or become involved in craft politics, though always keen to have news of change and make pertinent observations. A stroke in 1990 left her unable to continue work, though she retained a lively interest in pots and potters and was able to attend her Crafts Council retrospective.One of the most creative studio potters of this century, she leaves a legacy of work which will be admired and enjoyed for years to come.Emmanuel CooperLucie Rie was the most extraordinarily sensitive and yet dogged craftswoman, writes Margot Coatts. She was someone who could look at a formal idea repeatedly in a working life of over 60 years and produce alternatives of equal merit.Her memorable repertoire of forms - the footed bowl (like an upturned coolie hat), the lipped vase with serpentine outline, tactile ``potato pots'' or the (earlier) elegant tea- and coffee-pots - speaks of simplicity. Within this almost programmatic approach she produced a plethora of colours and weights by subtle use of her many treatments of clay and glaze, working in reaction to each other.In January 1992 the Crafts Council celebrated Lucie Rie's 90th birthday with a retrospective exhibition of her pots at their new London gallery. The previous summer, as the exhibition's freelance curator, I had been dispatched to take tea with her; her closest friends and advisers were present to oil the wheels. When faced with plans for the exhibition Rie was at first unmoved, even chilly, and asked that the work of the late Hans Coper, her one-time colleague and lifelong friend, should be included.