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.

getting credit

Those of you who follow the Bay Area ceramic scene recognize the pottery in the picture to the right. That's my pal, Sara Paloma, featured very prominently on the cover of the latest Restoration Hardware catalogue. Pretty great, right? The pottery is (obviously) the most interesting thing in the room, and any artist would be pleased to be spotlighted on the cover of a internationally distributed catalogue.

The only problem is that Sara's work is not being sold through Restoration Hardware, nor is she even given credit for the work photographed here. A call to the 800 order number to find out how to buy the amazing pottery on the cover revealed an exasperated customer service rep who didn't know Sara's name, but had fielded dozens of calls from people interested in her work. Who is the winner here? No one, as far as I can tell. Restoration Hardware gets an eye-popping catalogue cover, but no way to distribute the work featured. This must disappoint and frustrate potential customers. Sara gets exposure, but no sales as only the most diligent and internet-savvy person is going to have the wherewithal to track her down and place an order.
How does this happen? Photo stylists and prop houses buy work from artists with an eye toward future photo sessions. There are no laws or regulations that say ceramic art needs to be credited in images, or that it is violation of copyright law to do so. I sell pottery to a prop house in New York City, and I have no idea where my work may show up. Here are my pods in another Restoration Hardware catalogue. My pots have also been in Design With Reach catalogues. Again, there no artist credit, and my fabulous name is not mentioned anywhere.

Sara and I started a discussion about this problem of not getting artwork credit after her RH cover came out. We are both used to our work being used to make interior design shoots look great, but this RH cover was too much. Why are we not given credit? Painters have to be given credit for their work; you cannot use an artist's painting in print ads without mentioning their name. But us mud-slingers are getting the shaft. If Restoration Hardware doesn't want to bother selling Sara's work, that's fine. But her name in fine print on the inside of the catalogue cover would translate into thousands of dollars in sales for her, and the recognition she rightfully deserves.

Ceramic artists need to start demanding that their artwork gets name credit in advertising. I'm sure companies don't want to do this, but since it is our work that making their products look more appealing, it's only fair. I would be very interested to hear what other people have to say about this.

a factory visit

The husband and I paid a visit to my man at the factory, Hector, to pick up some bisque that I needed for orders. Hector's company, Earth Needs, is located in Red Bluff, California. For the past year he's been making some of my pottery for me. I give him a piece that I've made, he makes a mold out of it, makes the piece, bisques it, and delivers it to me. I glaze the work and send it out to my stores. It's amazing. There is no way I could keep up with my wholesale orders if he wasn't doing that for me.

I had a hard time getting to the point where I felt comfortable having some of my work made out of molds. Five years ago I would have laughed in your face if you suggested I make some of my work in molds. I love to throw on the potter's wheel, I'm obsessed with it, and for me, that's what the fun is all about. But I had to get realistic about what I'm capable of actually producing. If I want to wholesale my work and get a lot of my pottery out there all over the country, I have to be able to make a consistent product that isn't sucking the lifeblood out of me. By that I mean spending all my creative juice making the same thing over and over again. I'm very fortunate to work with Hector; he's an artist himself, and a master mold maker. He understands my work and where I'm coming from, which is so important to me when I have someone producing my pottery. Here he is with some of the work he does on the side-- Hector designs big granite statues that are made in Asia and shipped over here for people's gardens, front gates, etc.

I am by far Hector's smallest client, which became even more apparent when I looked at the factory. The factory is very neat and clean, and each client has their own shelf where their molds are stored, and another shelf where finished bisque us stored. A lot of people have shelf after shelf packed with pottery and molds, and some of this pottery is going to some very big stores. My shelf was kind of tiny and looked sort of empty and lonely. But I don't care, I'm just happy Hector lets me hang around with my teeny tiny orders.

Most people have probably never heard of Red Bluff, California, because it's kind of in the middle of nowhere. But check out this view from one of the factory rooms! I doesn't get any better than this; a pottery factory in the middle of paradise:

kiln dread

word of the day:
kiln dread (/kɪl, kɪln dred/) adjective. Describes the fear, apprehension, and extreme reluctance potter's feel before opening their kilns after a glaze firing.
I have my ways of avoiding bad firings. I never load a kiln when I'm tired, in a huge hurry and stressed out, or have been drinking. When I'm programming the kiln, I make sure my attention is 100% focused on what I'm doing. If I have any feelings that a piece is not quite right, I don't load it until I have time to double check it. And I make deals and beg with god. Despite all of this, every once in a while I look at a cooling kiln and I think, "I do not want to know what's in there". One time, I accidentally programmed my kiln to hold at cone 5 for 13 hours instead of 13 minutes. Talk about major kiln dread.

yes, it's magic