I’ve been on a creative hiatus for some time now. After the end of a relationship I had more space in my life for artistic endeavors and I dove wholeheartedly into studio life. What luck to live so close to a most excellent ceramic school, Mudflat! It felt good to devote the majority of my free time toward creativity, though it may have bordered on obsession.
Friends walked into my room and were delighted (or maybe worried) at the piles of wares stacked up all around. They started reaching out to me for gifts on Christmas and special occasions. I got cards printed, this website was formed. I’d leave work as soon as I could to get more time at the wheel. I dreamed of making my hobby self-sustaining, or, hope upon hope, a profitable venture. I was soon overwhelmed with the amount of pots I’d been making, struggling to store them in a string of little Somerville apartments, hustling at local makers markets, open studios, holiday sales, questioning whether there was any value or meaning in creating these things when we live in a world flooded with material goods. When cups and dishes are cheap and plentiful at the big box stores and overloading the shelves at thrift shops, did I need to waste energy, resources and time creating more stuff?
To get ready for a show, I’d get up early, pack my car with heavy bins full of my work, the tables, the tent, the display pieces. I’d schlep it all inside, unwrap my work, set up my display, meet the other artisans. When the door opened and the public entered, my heart would be warmed by the smiles that formed when people saw my work. They’d pick something up, fondle the textured surface, give compliments, and then put it down gently, offering some lament that they already have too many coffee mugs, or they are trying to get rid of things, not acquire more. At the end of the day, I’d be a few pieces lighter but almost everything was rewrapped, reboxed and returned to my apartment.
I’m driven to make, to fill my idle hours creating things of beauty is its own reward. I had, however, come to the realization that if I did not get rid of more work, I could not justify keeping making it. I stopped signing up for class. Why should I keep making this art if no one, not even me wants it or uses it? Why hadn’t I picked up a two dimensional hobby that could be tucked away in a drawer? Instead I had bulky bins of pots, useful, beautiful objects that had become a burden to me, their potential latent in piles of newspaper and bubblewrap.
At my most recent show, in May 2019, I reevaluated my position. I lowered my prices. I realized that it was my pleasure to create art and a privilege to be able to share it with others. The lowered prices didn’t reflect the time, effort and skill that went into the piece, but with a lower price point, people were eager to own my work. It was my most successful show ever. Even with lowering prices by half, I made well over 400% more than I ever had before. I couldn’t believe it, by the end of the day my table was starting to look bare. So many of my pots had gone on to new homes where they would be used and appreciated.
i’m slowly making moves to get back into maker mode. This gift of mine probably won’t ever pay the bills, but I am so happy to be able to share it with the world.