finished

I thought you guys would like to see the backsplash tile project, which came out of the kiln this morning:

I bisqued it over a week ago, and before I bisqued it, it sat on my shelf for quite a while.  It's a big project, and sometimes when I'm not sure how things are going to turn out, I start dragging my feet on the completion end.  Before a project is done, it only exists in my mind, and it's always perfect.  Finishing it could mean the end of my fantasies of perfection.  Finally, the client kind of begged me to finish it before the holidays and not drag it out into the new year, so I finished it.  Here is some of it in the kiln yesterday:

 I'm happy.

tokyo or bust

This morning at 10 am, a freight truck came to my studio and took the Japan order. The driver was a young eastern European gentleman who obviously thought I was insane as I took pictures of the pallet and slapped a bunch of "fragile" stickers on the wrap. He was gone 10 minutes later. I went back into my studio and cried. My studio felt very empty with this crazy, colorful order gone, leaving a big, empty space. My babies were going to Tokyo! Then I got over it about 15 seconds later when I remembered that I already got paid. I could go to Tokyo.

The order left about 10 days earlier than I planned. Almost 2 weeks ago, I was working with the clients to get the order down to Los Angeles where it would be put into a container and literally shipped to Japan. It quickly became apparent the logistics were not working out in my favor. The order needed to get finished and shipped out now to meet the ship's sail date. There was really no time to panic or get upset. I just did it. And, I was kind of glad. I had a good, strong, consistent pace going for almost 5 weeks. I was ready to sprint and cross the finish line.

I'd like everyone to take note that I have not been writing about about crazy emotional meltdowns or a growing shard pile. That's because there is nothing to say in that department. I had a few semi-sleepless nights, especially right around when I took a vacation 3 weeks ago. Thank god I didn't know about the ship date then, because I would have never gone; or, I would have gone and been a basket case the whole time. And I lost very few pieces. I fired 132 pieces, and out of that, I smashed about 4 of them. None of them cake stands either, and there were 28 cake stands in this order. I had a few that didn't make the cut, but are still totally sell-able. Right here, as a matter-o-fact.

I'm not sure why everything came out so good, but here are some theories. One, I took this order right after taking a month away from the studio. So I was kinda relaxed and ready. Two, I was very aware of keeping a good attitude, which you may or may not know, I have problems with sometimes. Especially when "good" stuff happens. Three, I was very careful. This order took some extra time because of all the layered colors that I usually don't put together, and I gave it all my full attention and never took short cuts. What can I say, it paid off. Here are the lessons, all nice, for those of us who need it simple:

• take a break from work to make better work.
• be aware of your attitude and work on adjusting it when necessary.
• take your time.
  

And P.S.: here is a photo album of more pieces and the pack-up. It's on my facebook fan page, so while you're there, you may as well become a fan.

random bits

This week I've been completely wrapped up in finishing the Japan order. I will do a complete post-game analysis, with pictures, next week when the order ships, a full 10 days before my original ship date. More on that later. I've been glazing, day after day, which leaves me a lot if time to think. This is a sampling of things that have happened and stuff I'm thinking about.

Today, I had a client pop in. I donated a piece of pottery to him for a fund raiser, and he was returning a display prop. Naturally, I was very busy, and not in the mood to chat. Of course, this guy loves to chat, and he especially loves chatting with artists and supporting them by passing on his acquired wisdom and thoughts about art and creating. He said to me, "Don't go too commercial Whitney. It's your unique ideas and vision that keeps you viable in this market." "Yeah yeah yeah." was basically my response as I hustled him out the door. I gritted my teeth a bit with annoyance as I got back to work, then realized that this guy is an angel, delivering me a very important message, and I best heed it. My annoyance evaporated.

Speaking of annoyed, here's another note to self: do not press "send" button on email to customers when heart is beating at a faster rate than normal and your brow is screwed up in impatience and anger. I know this already, yet there are still times I do the exact opposite of what I know is the right thing to do. This is especially true when I am under pressure from other orders-- ahem--, or am lacking sleep. Last week, I had a customer ask for free shipping because their order was accidentally undercharged by about $50. I screwed up the coding on a "buy now" button on my website. A mistake, by the way, that the customer did not feel compelled to point out themselves, I just happened to catch it when I noticed a weird product code when the order came in. Yes, I do all of my own coding and website design. Yes, I am amazing, which I felt this customer was not fully appreciating as they tried to jab me for the $12 ship charge. I denied their request, huffily, from my phone, when I was in the middle of throwing pieces for the Japan order. Why am I checking email while I am throwing? Because my phone is encased in a clay-defying plastic case, so I can. Customer insists, while asserting they like to support independent artists over pottery barn and crate & barrel, but I really need to act like them when I "make an error" by giving free shipping. I raged all afternoon and into the evening, composing scathing and drop dead emails, which I fortunately did not take the time to actually compose and send. I didn't care about the money, it was the fucking principle. By morning, I was normal again, having had a full 9 hours sleep, which also meant I didn't care about the $12 or the fact customer felt compelled to point out my errors. I wrote a very nice email, patched the whole mess back up, and remembered to deal with annoying customer requests when I'm relaxed and fully awake.

I mentioned in a recent post that I do not have time to hedge orders at the moment. This means making a bunch of extra pieces to get one perfect one. I usually make at least one extra on special orders, or on orders that make me feel insecure. Often, this one extra insures that I get the perfect set of four, or whatever perfect thing I'm trying to make. It suddenly hit me the other day that the one extra I'm making may actually be the screwed up one, that the original set may have been perfect to begin with. Hmmmmmm. Something to think about. Hope everyone has a great weekend as I pack up my Japan order! If you live in the Bay Area, feel free to stop by with pork sandwiches, beer, and apples. That's what I like. Just don't stick around to chat, or you may find yourself hustled out the door as I eat your lunch.

your move

When my husband and I first met fifteen years ago, we moved almost immediately to Hawaii for the summer to work and live together. Obviously, we didn’t know each other very well, so it was like trial by fire. There were a lot of challenges those months as we negotiated the terms of our relationship while (mostly) residing in a tent and dealing with the realities of living and working on Maui. That summer, Andrew and I got addicted to chess. We were so addicted, that sometimes we would play a match before even getting out of bed. We had a little travel board, so whenever there was some downtime, we would pull the board out for a game. Andrew often won, because I was basically a reactionary player. Whenever he would threaten one of my pieces, I’d panic while trying to plot an escape, and often end up losing a piece. And then eventually the game.

I remember suddenly figuring out that when I was cornered, rather than escape being my first move, I needed to go on the offense. Threaten Andrew to keep him busy for a few moves so I could maneuver myself back to safety. Manipulative, yes, and highly effective tactic to start winning chess games against my brilliant then-boyfriend. It was a complete turnaround in my mindset. This is a great lesson when dealing with the problems of a production studio, or probably any problem in life. I’ve learned that my game plan for the week is basically like my plan at the beginning of a chess game to take Andrew’s king —it’s just a hope for a particular outcome. Attacks will come from all sides: stock will run short, things you were counting on to come out right won't, or you will get food poisoning and be in bed for 24 hours and lose a whole day of work, like what happened to me last Tuesday. You can squirm and howl as you try to stay on course, or you can just start walking in a new direction.

I was thinking about the chess thing a lot this past Wednesday as I tried to recover from losing a day in the studio when I really can’t afford it. One, the big Japan order sitting in my studio like a silent lumbering Tortoro. Two, I was about to take 5 days off to go to New York City. For fun. How can I take off like that when I have this big order looming? That’s just how I roll. Not really, but I love that expression and I never get to use it. Generally I don't roll; I wobble around, fall over, then spontaneously burst into flame. And Wednesday, I was combining that with convulsive jerky movements and shallow breathing. Then, I realized I was trying to do double the work in half the time, and even under the best of circumstances, that just never happens. I needed to change my mindset, re-strategize what I was trying to accomplish, go on the offense, and stop fucking scrambling. Turns out it was easy—I just needed to pay one of my helpers in for an extra day of work. As soon as I realized that I really didn't have to do it all by myself, the jerky movements stopped and I started breathing again. And then on Friday, I hopped on a plane to New York City.

pace yourself

I've been learning a lot about my making process as I work my way through the very large Japan order. It's interesting that no matter how long you've been doing something, there's always more to discover. I learned so many hard lessons with the five-figure order and I've been determined not to make those same mistakes. The biggest mistake I made was not being organized and plotting out my production schedule. I procrastinated, and then backed myself into a very uncomfortable corner when there were glaze issues at the very end.

With the Japan order, I've been totally organized. I made a production schedule. I inventoried my glaze and ordered the extra I would need. I made a list of all the parts I would need: 180 individual cherry blossoms, 60 birds, 80 small cake stands, etc. I called my man Hector at the factory and gave him a heads up that I would need extra attention and pieces right now. I hired some extra hands and put them to work. No procrastinating.

What I've learned in the past month is the importance of pacing yourself. When the order rolled in, I got anxious and busted out almost half of the bell jars I would need for the order in one afternoon. The problem was, with all the other stuff that needed attention-- including other orders not related to the Japan order-- there wasn't time to trim and decorate all the bell jars I made. We only manged to deal with the ones I would need for the first round of glazing and firing, the rest have been wrapped up tightly in plastic and have been waiting their turn for over two weeks. So really, that afternoon I spent making all of that stuff was not really time well spent, all it did was temporarily assuage my anxiety. Which was maybe worth it for that day, just so I could prove to myself that I could throw the entire order in three days, if I wanted to. Which I don't, really.

Pacing yourself is totally related to organization too. Knowing what I need, as well as when I need it is part of the whole picture; not getting too far ahead in one area, only to fall behind in another. It's been challenging to stay on course, because I generally set my stride from instinct, rather than going by a tightly paced list of needed items. I think most artists are probably the same. But it's working for me; by Thursday I should have 50% of the order glazed up, which gives me four more weeks for the rest!

attitude adjustment

This past week I've been working really hard, trying to get ahead of the overwhelming order, while also catching up with my orders from August. I haven't worked hours like this in a long time: yesterday I was in the studio at 7 am and stayed there until 4:30. I had to immediately go and drink a martini afterward, but after a long day I think the reward system should be in full effect. I almost forgot it was possible for me to work a straight 8-hour day.

I've broken the overwhelming order down into its smallest parts, and I keep looking at it, looking at it, and looking at it again. The more I look at it, the more I feel like I may actually pull it off. As I've been spending hours and hours with myself in the studio, I've started working on my attitude. Part of the reason why I took a month off from the making work was to get some perspective. My stress levels have been getting cranked all year from studio issues: not having enough assistance, nagging glaze issues, misbehaving cake stands and the relentless orders for them... all of it has made me feel like failure is the default setting, while success is something always just out of my grasp. Talk about lack of perspective... for every failure out of the kiln, there are probably 20 successes, but when you start losing your mind, all you see is the failure.

The failure mind set is completely debilitating and also totally self-fulfilling. As I deal with the overwhelming order and a few others that came in on its heels, I've been asking myself how I can think about my situation in a more positive light, starting by just appreciating that people actually want to buy my stuff at all. I also try to see all the pieces finished on time, perfectly fired. And normally I would hedge a big order by making a bunch of extra pieces. I recently read a brilliant article by Sequoia Miller in the current issue of Studio Potter magazine about this very practice, and what a waste of time it can be. I really don't have time for hedging right now, I want to count on things coming out right the first time.

So right now it's all about long solid days in the studio, deep breathing, positive visions, 8 hours of sleep, and not toooooo many martinis!

the five-figure order

Back in the dark days of January, when I was still in New York at the Gift show, I received a call from a woman who was an "art resource" rep, and who had a client who was interested in purchasing a leaf platter from me; could I create a leaf platter to their specifications?
"Sure", I said. I actually love custom orders.
Her client would need 300 of these platters; could I fulfill that kind of order?
"Absolutely" I said coolly, in a tone that said I get orders for 300 things all the time. In fact, I have never gotten an order that big. To date, the largest order I've ever dealt with was an order from Gump's for 40 medium split pods That was the first time I really got to utilize my man Hector at the factory. He delivered 43 pods to be exact, I glazed them in one afternoon, and had the husband deliver them a few days later. It was beautiful. I call this picture to the right, "March of the Clones".

Since January I've been working with the art resource woman, Laurie. Back and forth we've gone: drawings, mini-samples, prototypes, colors, glazes samples, changes in the shape, changes in the size. All through it I've been keeping up the cool front while going into spasms of doubt as I try to figure out what to charge them for everything. I really wanted this order, I wanted to be put to the test. Underbidding would ensure that I could get it, but I know from experienece that when I don't charge people what my pottery is worth, I don't put the right effort into it because I figure they're getting a bargain. Overcharging makes me insecure because then everything has to be perfect perfect perfect... and it just hardly ever is. I finally came up with a number, delivered in an even and confident tone, and held my breath as I waited to hear if The Clients would accept.
They did. And what would my terms be?
"Oh, (a cash sum which would pay my studio rent for almost a year) up front to get production going, the balance paid in cash or by check before shipment".
Turnaround time?
"Three to four weeks". That's what I always say.

Finally today I received the purchase order. It was a long day of glazing with one of my assistants, but the final piece was put into the kiln and I spent and hour cleaning and mopping the studio-- where is my intern anyway? I staggered home thinking about tomorrow morning, when I plan to spend at least two hours in my favorite cafe, drinking their amazing coffee, eating my favorite breakfast, (polenta with a poached egg on top) and working on my website. That's what constitutes relaxation in my world. And then bam, the five-figure order I've been waiting for, sitting in my email. I printed it out, looked at it, and started laughing, which kind of tapered off into a groan, then went back up into a laugh, then down again into a groan. I did this 3 or 4 times before I realized I sounded like a crazy person, and there should be no groaning where five figures are involved, unless we're talking about bail money. But we're not, we're talking about payday!

I have a picture of a new Skutt kiln I want; shiny, bigger than the one I have, capable of firing off five figures worth of work in one fell swoop. Oh baby, you are mine.