I Suck at Capitalism

 Hi everyone,

I wanted to take a minute to talk about Patreon and why it matters to me, in case you've been considering a paid subscription. The truth is, I suck at capitalism, and I’d do all this for free if I could. All the knowledge, the experimentation, even the pots themselves! Unfortunately, that’s not an option for me.

Running a pottery studio means a lot of costs that aren't always visible from the outside: clay, glaze materials, kiln firings (propane is my biggest cost!), tools that wear out, and just the time it takes to make each piece by hand. Patreon support directly helps cover those costs and gives me a little breathing room to be creative instead of always in production mode. And we all know how much I love to make stuff that won’t sell! Or at least is harder to sell; those wonky pieces that take over my brain sometimes for weeks at a time. Those inform my larger body of work. Without them, the rest would become staid & dull.

I try to make it worth your while. Depending on the tier, patrons get things like early access to pieces before they're publicly listed, process videos and photos, glaze recipes, and tips you can use in your own work. (Although I admit, when I discover a new technique, even a small tip, that works or is just super fun, I’m probably gonna share that to the free tier, too, because I love clay, I love clay people, and it brings me joy to help people on their clay journey.)

If you shop for handmade pottery, your subscription could pay for itself with discount codes alone! 

If you've enjoyed following along with what I make, even a dollar and a half a month – the lowest tier - genuinely makes a difference. Your support adds up, and lets me keep doing this. And if an upgrade isn't the right fit for you right now, that's totally okay too! Just having you here following along means a lot. Your time & attention has value, and I appreciate you spending it with me.

If you wish to subscribe, free or paid, you can do that at this link. 

Creativity, Serenity, and the Value of Repetition

 I often hear this from students or new potters: "Oh, I could never make the same thing over and over, how boring! Where is the creativity?" When I hear this, I think, well, you do you, but my friend, you are missing out.

Repetition, especially on the wheel, is not what it looks like. For me there are two modes: design, and production (a term I use loosely, because I am not really a production potter; they sometimes throw 500 mugs a day!) In my designing mode, to a casual observer, I might appear to be making the same thing over and over again, but I am making small changes each time: the shoulder on this one is a little higher, or the foot is a little wider, or there's an accent line at the neck, maybe the next one gets spiral throwing ridge. I am very mentally engaged, making dozens of small decisions about which version best approximates the one in my head. I do occasionally sketch forms, but I tend to do my sketching on the wheel. That's the creativity bit, and it's deeply satisfying.

The other mode, though: that is one of the true joys of pottery. I do return to the same forms often; so often that my hands can do it on their own, with little attention from my brain. Once I sit down, I let my hands do their thing and my mind can wander, or rest. It's work, in the sense of physical effort, to be sure, but like many other forms of physical effort - hiking, say, or yoga - it's mentally restorative. The serenity found there is the reward for the long months - years, if I'm honest - of frustration as you climb the long, steep learning curve of the potters wheel.

I was back at the wheel today, basking in the serenity.

 

It's been a while since I posted here! Sorry, and thanks for being here to read this one. I post more regularly at Patreon, where you can subscribe for free (or just pop in to read, without subscribing.) If you enjoy the posts & would like to see more, subscriptions start as low as $1.50 a month. 

 

happy new year yay hooray

I usually do The Week of Reflection between Christmas and New Year's, a favorite stretch of time for me, but this year I just wasn't up for it. I spent most of December so depressed I could barely get out of bed. (Remember when I said I was going to clean up the studio? LOL ALL DAY that did not happen)

Depression is familiar to me, but it's been many years since I suffered a major bout. I think it was triggered by the loss of my cat Noodle, which brought on reflection which turned into ruminating. Noodle was 18 years old. I looked back on her life with us, and I remembered my life when I found her, and things have improved for me in 18 years, but not all that much. Many things have gotten harder. 

Some of my drear arises from the state of the country. I have always wanted clay to be an arena where we can just be neighbors and see the good in each other, so I try to be minimally political here, but no reasonable person can say things are going well for American democracy. There are many people far more painfully affected than I am, so I have no right to personally complain, but it grieves me to see suffering & injustice & to be able to do so little to help. I do what I can, but we have collectively failed so many people; we aren't going to get those lives back. This weighs on me. 

In my individual life, nothing major has changed, but I did have a sort of epiphany: things are not going to get easier. Things are never going to get easier. I think I always subconsciously believed that someday, if I worked hard, I would reach a point where I wasn't struggling financially, when there would be enough time to relax, but guess what? I did the math, and there is no relief in sight. While I never intend to retire from making pots - not until I am physically unable - I thought I would be able to dial back on my classes, because while I enjoy teaching, it's mentally very taxing on me, and starting to be physically hard, too. I thought I'd be able to cut down to 2 or 3 classes a week somewhere between 62 & 65, but that is just not going to be possible; I'm going to have to teach 6 classes a week until I'm 70. I'm so tired now, at 61, that I can't imagine how I'm going to feel nine years from now. 

I guess the big change happened in 2024, although I did not recognize it at the time. Doug's health has grown more frail, and he is unfortunately in the difficult space between too disabled to work but not quite disabled enough to collect disability. He can take care of himself - there's no physical burden on me - but I have to carry the whole household financially. I am grateful that I am able to do that (barely) but it doesn't leave time for much else. 

My efforts to create an income stream in less physically demanding ways have not been very successful, which leads me to spiral that I am just mid at everything I try. (Except making pots, which pays me like $7/hr, or teaching pottery, which I love but which exhausts me.) I suck & I deserve to fail. That's my shitty brain chemistry talking, I know, but since my brain is where I live it feels very real. 

Today is the first day in a long time that I've been able to get up out of bed without a specific reason to do so. Hoping hard that it is a sign of better things on the horizon. Is now a good time to say, Happy New Year?

Thanks for reading this far. Sorry to be a bummer, hopefully the next time I post things will be better. 

I love you and miss you, Noodle.