making it, selling it

Yesterday, I was contacted by a local television station that wants to do a short segment on me and my pottery for an afternoon program they have. Being the publicity whore that I am, I said "yes" right away. As the producer discussed the segment with me, it emerged that she wanted the focus to be on how to market yourself and "make it" as an artist or craft person. She is a huge etsy fan with her own crafty inclinations, so she wants this to be an inspirational segment for people who are considering a different kind of life for themselves that involves making and selling stuff.

I've been considering for a while of running a local workshop for people who want to market their work online, be more visible or successful on Etsy, and deal with the ins and out of websites. I've had to learn most of this stuff from scratch-- including designing and building my own website-- and I'm still always learning something new on Etsy that helps me sell more work. And I love to share this stuff, I'm constantly bossing my friends around on how they should be marketing their work or making changes to their shops. Though, it must be said, they are quite successful without me.

My husband suggested I teach a workshop quite a while ago, but it has suddenly seemed more pressing. This month, I was elected President of the Association of Clay and Glass Artists of California, an organization of over 500 members. My election represents a big change in leadership just in terms of my age. I'm the first Gen-Xer to lead the organization, and in the weeks since my election, we now have a blog, Facebook Fan Page, and twitter feed. I feel that all of these things are vital to building and connecting our community of artists. At our annual retreat, it came up again and again: how do our non-tech savvy artists--many of them from the baby boomer generation and older-- compete in this web-based marketplace? Many of them are overwhelmed by the options and don't know where to start, but recognize that the way of relying on shows and gallery sales are not bringing in the bucks the way it used to. I want to help them.

I would love to get some feedback from my readers. What kind of information would you want from a workshop like this? What tips do you want to share? Are there things you wish someone had told you before you launched yourself into the web-o-sphere? All comments welcome!

award season

Somebody out there who has fantastic taste nominated me for a "Poppie Award" for having the best ceramic shop. I swear, I did not nominate myself. At first, I was just honored to be nominated, along with some of my favorite pottery pals. Always nice to know that people are paying attention. But, I'm getting my butt kicked in the voting, which has brought out my naturally competitive spirit. If you think I have the best shop, vote for me right here!

the way of the sloth

I have been easing myself back into work, not unlike how a three-toed tree sloth would get back to work. For those of you who don't know what a three-toed tree sloth is or how they act, their most distinguishing characteristic is the fact that they move very slowly and deliberately. It's quite comical to watch, actually. Years ago, I was on a beach in Costa Rica and a tree sloth fell out of a tree behind me-- something that happens all the time since they cannot react quickly-- and I was so startled my first reaction was to get up and run away. I am a total chickenshit when confronted with strange animals. I expected the sloth to be angry and maybe run toward me, but it just rolled over veeeeeeeery slooooooowly and began its crawl back to the tree. I felt sorry for being fearful when I realized it was terrified of me and was doing its own version of a flat-out run for safety.

Anyway, that's my totem right now, a three-toed tree sloth. And it feels pretty good to take it easy after holiday bedlam and plan for the year. Of course, I've had to do some work which can sort of ruin the sloth vibe. I had my first firing of the year last week, and I was very disappointed with the outcome. Cake stands, as usual, giving me problems. I really should charge $200 a plate. I found myself fuming around the studio and even throwing a couple of things. I haven't thrown things in a long time. It's not that I'm worried about what the customer is going to upset with their delayed order-- I've become expert in handling anxious cake stand customers-- I get so worn down by the persistent and ongoing problems with these pieces, it's hard not to feel defeated.

Then, there's a whole new problem that started showing its ugly little head, first every once in a while over the past couple of years, and now all the time. The plates have started popping away from the stands. Sometimes it's already happened when I pull it from the kiln, sometimes it happens after a couple of days. I don't know why this happens, and it only happens with certain glazes, my white glaze being the top offender, of course. I've done everything you can imagine to try and mitigate this issue, and I finally had to give up and re-design the way I make these things, not for the first time. I've always made the stands and the plates separately, so I can really pack them in during bisque firings. But now I'm attaching them while they are green, then bisqueing them like that. It takes up some serious space in the kiln, and I feel less efficient, but when I consider all the stands that get sent to the shard pile, I feel I have no choice. This is the best way to deal with this problem.

I'm finding, more and more, that the energy I spend on being stressed and upset in my work is energy I am totally capable of channeling into finding solutions and just moving on. I really am attempting to train my brain to stop having a panic response to stress; it is super annoying to get a surge of adrenaline when a problem comes up, which makes my heart pound and my hands shake. The three-toed tree sloth does not get panicked. The sloth falls out of the tree, and then immediately gets up and starts climbing again, in the exact same deliberate way he was before. He does not freak out and try to make up for lost ground, or throw coconuts around, or charge at the nearest person standing by. Watch me as I work on my sloth attitude.

ready... or not

I haven't done a lick of work in what feels like weeks, though it's barely been two. The days leading up to the holidays is a siege, which makes the whole season like fighting a battle. I know how to dig my trenches, lay in a huge supply of ammo, and train my troops. But by December 20, my little bunker was being overrun by a panicked and scattered populace. I was shooting-- I mean shipping out orders right up until December 23, when I finally turned out the lights and retreated to Southern California. Still, I got an annoyed sounding email from a customer 3 days after Christmas wondering where her Christmas present was. It's amazing how I can hear whining even through the impersonal medium of electronic mail. And this from an east coast customer who placed the order 4 days before Christmas. I guess Christmas brings out the child in all of us.

I don't feel ready to go back to work, but then, I never do. It's really a shame that I didn't marry rich, because if anyone was built for a life of idleness, it's me. I've refined lolling around to a high art, and the beautiful thing is, I can do it just about anywhere. Part of the reason I work for myself is because I would never be able to get to amount of vacation days I really need from a regular job.

While I'm thinking about getting back to work, I'm also thinking of the upcoming year, and how I want to make it different for myself. I'm starting by skipping the wholesale show in February, which means I don't have to spend January pumping out samples and coming up with new "product". This also means I don't have an assured stream of income from store orders during the Spring, but after last year's lousy show, I've realized I don't depend on that as much as I thought I did. In fact, the more time I spend selling my work at half price to retail clients, the less time I have selling the same work at full price to my own individual clients. Though my own clients can be a major pain in the ass on occasion (see above), I still prefer dealing with them over dealing with stores.

Skipping the wholesale show is about more than just trying to cut wholesale and increase retail. It has become increasingly obvious to me that I need a creative outlet that's not just about ceramics. For a while, I thought that what I needed was more "creative" time in the studio, making stuff that's about making art and pleasing myself. But I've come to realize that that is not what I need at all; what I really need is less time in the studio and more time making other kinds of art. I've spent 10 years building this ceramics business and I've gotten very good at it. Up until now I could rarely think about spending my creative energy doing anything other than pottery. And now, I have a nice little business that can support other projects and give me the time I need to do other things. Like writing, which I love as much as ceramics. And painting, which I used to be good at. Resolutions can be a bit ridiculous and a set-up for failure, but I'm ready to make some changes in 2010. What about you all?

this weekend

Things are really starting to wind down for me at the studio. Last firing is tonight, and I'm done! Okay, I may sneak in another before the end of the week, but no promises. I will be at the Renegade Fair this weekend. I have not done a big holiday show in several years, so I am both parts excited, (that's my masochistic side) and a little wary, but I plan on having fun no matter what. Some of my Pottery Posse will be there, so if nothing else we will get to be in the same building at the same time, which always makes me feel better. And if you want to stop by my booth, buy a little something, that will make me feel better too.

Speaking of feeling better, I just have to share with everyone how totally non-stressful this holiday has been for me. I've been so chill, I actually took some time off to go to the East Coast last weekend to celebrate a special birthday with a special friend. When I couldn't get out of Philadelphia because of weather Sunday night, I didn't even cry, I just checked myself into a hotel. Why am I so Zen-like and amazing, you ask? Because of my awesome new assistant who pretty much has saved my sanity this winter. Get one for yourself.

letting go, letting god

I ride my bike pretty much every where I go, so I look at a lot of bumper stickers on the back of cars. The other day I saw a sticker I've seen hundreds of times: Let go, let God. I felt a twinge of annoyance the way I do with platitudes involving god, and continued pedaling, quickly forgetting about it. Then, I found myself pondering the meaning of this saying the other night at 3 am. One would think I must love to be awake, thinking about stuff at 3 am, since I am often doing just that in the middle of the night. After years and years of training, I'm better at putting myself back to sleep within a few minutes. A warm bottle and my wubbie does me right.

But there are times when I can't go back to sleep, and it's usually because I'm obsessing about something, often related to my work. In this, I am no better than your typical high-strung corporate exec. For several nights in a row last week, I was completely absorbed all night long with these international packages I was shipping out. These boxes all had a lot of heavy, expensive items in them, and had already been packed them very carefully, but my subconscious was not satisfied. While I was sleeping, I was packing these boxes. Over an over: bubble wrap, styrofoam peanuts, corrugated cardboard. It was basically the opposite of a sex dream. While I was awake, I was re-thinking my packing strategy. In the end, I unpacked the boxes and re-packed them. During the day, not at 3 am. I'm not that crazy.

And a good thing too. Since these packages were international, they ship via US Post. This always makes me nervous, since the postal service does not feel the same obligations toward their customers the way FedEx or UPS does. Don't get me wrong, they suck too, but you can at least get your problem dealt with. Even if that means getting totally screwed in the end, they usually do it within 36 hours. I am not a customer of the US Post, I am a prisoner of the US Post, a belief I stated very loudly the other day when I was at my local office trying to pick up a package. You'd think they might hire two people to work the pickup window during the holiday instead of the usual one. But no. And that's another story anyway.

I nurture good relationships with all of my carriers-- UPS, FedEx, and even the Post. The people who pick up my shipments all know me, come into my studio, check out my work, and are nice humans to work with. My postal guy, who I really liked a lot, got fired last summer. I miss him. Since he's been gone, I've had a series of carriers whose charms are not as obvious. One carrier in particular is very bad, and unfortunately she's the one who shows up the most. I have to stay on top of her to pick up packages, she's always on her phone, and she's not friendly. I don't get unfriendly people; I can be a bitch with the best of them, but I don't move around in life with that attitude as my modus operandi. It's way more fun to be friendly, because it cheers people up, which in turn makes you a happier person. Mean people are just so boring. Even though this woman is pretty unpleasant, I'm still always kind and polite to her, and say "please" and "thank you", and always give her a smile.

Not that this gets me anywhere with her. She came by last week to pick up my re-packed international boxes -- 5 of them-- and I caught her throwing the last two into the back of her van like they were a sack of potatoes. I wasn't watching the first three she threw in. "Hey!" I yelled at her. I rarely yell, because it scares people and distracts from whatever point I want to make, but she was talking on her phone and I wanted her attention immediately. When she looked up at me I said, "Take it easy on those boxes, they're packed with pottery." I didn't say "please" "thank you", or smile. She says, "Okay" in kind of a nice way, which briefly made me think I intimidated her, and maybe now she'd start being a littler nicer. Then I realized she could afford to be nice since she was probably going to drive around the corner and see how well those boxes really were packed.

That night, at 3 am, I was awake and thinking about all the ways I could get back at the mail carrier. Unfortunately, there were none, except for psycho stuff, and I'm too lazy for that kind of thing. And then I started stressing about the pieces in the boxes, worried about them arriving broken. I soothed myself with the thought that all the pieces were double boxed and fine even if the boxes were tossed around. But my brain wouldn't accept soothing. That is when I started thinking about the letting go, letting god thing. Maybe that saying is not just an annoying phrase that is empty and meaningless. What a great thing it would be if I could let go of my struggles and worries, and accept whatever outcome is coming my way with equanimity. I'm thinking "letting god" just means "acceptance." I always pictured that saying as giving up, and then god would swoop in and deal with the mess, which is probably why I never really bought into this saying. But if I can picture it as gracefully giving up, letting go, and accepting reality without resisting, maybe I can start working this game a little better.

potter's seventh circle of hell: redux

I know this is totally cheating, but I'm so busy my brain cannot focus on a blog post, so I'm doing rerun of one of my favorite holiday posts from last around this time. I think it bears repeating!

A quick perusal around some of my favorite pottery blogs confirmed what I suspected: few are writing, including myself. If I know ceramic types—and I do-- I suspect everyone is holed up in their studios, and going through something like this:

1)“I don’t have enough work, I don’t have enough work!” (repeat 500 times a day)
2)“I need to make more work, I need to make more work!” (Repeat in head at least once every 60 seconds and yell this phrase at spouse/significant other at least once a day, especially when they try to get you to relax.)
3) Feverishly make work while repeating above mantras, first one, then the other.
4) Have repeated breakdowns and self-loathing sessions as work you so feverishly made cracks, sticks to the kiln shelf, or just kind of sucks.
5) Repeat.

I’ll call this the potter’s Seventh Circle of Hell. I know it well. I’ve slept by the Lake of Fire for weeks on end trying to keep ahead of Christmas orders. I’ve been fielding a few panicked phone calls from my potter friends as they feel the flames licking at their little heels. I’m really a good person to call when a potter is ready to jump because I have been there so many times, I can talk anybody off the ledge.

I’m going to give a tiny little lecture here that I’ve given to more than one artist this season: Hire some goddamn help. If you can’t sleep at night as you consider all you have to make the next day, you need some help. If your stomach or spine is burning as you contemplate your order sheet, you need some help. If you are at the studio, missing dinner, ignoring your boyfriend’s cell phone calls, you need some help. Don’t tell me that you can’t afford it. A half-decent assistant pays for themselves. Don’t tell me you don’t have time to train somebody. You’ll get all that time back and then some when you send that assistant on their own. Don’t tell me you are a lone wolf who creates alone. Hire someone who doesn’t talk too much. There are so many people out there dying to work for you, in your dusty little studio. Go and find them!