holiday hurricane

The christmas season is kind of like the weather.  Say, a hurricane.  You know the hurricane is coming,  but until it actually arrives, you're just waiting under clear skies with your windows all boarded up and a stash of bottled water.  Last week I was cruising along at my normal speed.  The sky was sunny and the birds were singing.  Then suddenly, everything changed, and I can't seem to complete my daily list, and an 8-hour work day is way too short.  The hurricane is here, and there I am, snoozing in my backyard in my underwear with an almost empty beer bottle resting on my belly.

Me, I live in earthquake country.  I'm intellectually prepared for the Big One, but do I have a three-day supply of water and a first aid kit?  No. Though I think I should.  I also think I should prepare for the holidays, like get all stocked up on best-selling items, and make special little things at that magical price point.  But, I just don't.  I never do.  Why?  Because I crave pressure.  It makes me feel useful and important.  There I am, all busy, working away in my studio, making people stuff. When I'm under pressure, I get very focused, and life gets very simple: make more pottery or die.

I have tried to prepare in the past, but the bottom line is, I just can't believe the holidays are here again.  Wasn't I just here a couple of months ago?  Am I really expected to just repeat this act year after year, each year getting shorter and shorter?  And I've gone through spasms of preparation in the past, and it's always the same thing: I never know what I'm really going to need.  My customers are all fickle and I'm loathe to try and read their minds, or brainwash them into buying certain things.

Also, in the name of "preparation" I've wasted hours on special holiday projects.  Like, I have an obsession with lighting and candles, especially during the winter.  So I've made all kinds of things that work with candles.  Beautiful, labor intensive projects that never sell because they are limited edition and cost a mint, which does not hit that happy magical price point thing.  I have a collection of porcelain tea light holders with carvings that the light shines through, and I think out of the 15 I made, I sold maybe two.  I've learned, in all kinds of ways, that when you bust out  a bunch of stuff trying to be prepared, the stuff never sells, unless it's so cheap people can't help themselves from buying.

I did throw this one thing a couple of days ago.  I had this vision of a porcelain ceramic christmas tree that you would put over a candle.  And it would glow, and be all modern and cool and holiday-esque. So I made it.  Just one. And I will sell it for a ridiculous price.

custom order

Many ceramic artists I know hate custom orders, won't even take them.  There is the hassle of making something that you have maybe not made before, meeting the customer's expectations on an item that they have not seen before, getting stuck with extra custom work if the first one you make doesn't come out, and the stress of all of the above.

I love taking custom work, because I get great ideas from customers and I don't mind letting clients do my thinking for me.  This year my custom work has included a cake topper, a set of plates shaped like butterfly wings, and extra large bird pitchers, which turned out so cute I will probably get a mold made and put them into production.

Last summer I agreed to create a 16"x 20" tile backsplash for a long-time client in their newly-renovated kitchen.  I felt some reluctance because I have made single tiles exactly 6 times, and making a cohesive panel of tiles sounded like a pain in the ass.  But I couldn't come up with a reason to say "no" other than I like my ass pain free, which is not really a good reason when it comes to making stuff.

Turns out the hardest part was just making the tiles. Making hand-cut tiles that are perfectly square and all the same size is freaking impossible.  After working over each tile one-by-one I got them to pretty much all fit in together:

I stored the tiles between sheets of drywall so they could hopefully learn to stay flat and get to the leather-hard stage.  Starting last Monday, I spent a couple of hours every morning while it was still nice and cool in the studio, working on the design.  It's been relentlessly warm and beautiful here in Oakland, and part of the trick is making sure the tiles don't dry too quickly.  By Friday I had this:

Then I applied some underglaze:

The great thing about custom work is that I always learn something new.  I've been making this style of relief-pattern work for years, but I learned a new way to do the flower petals that gives them much more depth and texture.  Now, the tiles are tucked away on a shelf where air can pass beneath and between the tiles, drying ever so slowly, with no warping-- I hope!

just do

I have a lot of bad habits.  Some of them make my life more fun, others make my life more difficult. One I'm starting to notice is my habit to wake up in the morning, and while still laying in bed, start thinking about all the stuff I need to do that day.  And, thinking about the things I forgot to do yesterday.  Also, thinking about the things I want to do, but probably won't have time for.  This has the effect of making me tired all over again before I've even gotten out of bed. And like not doing anything.

Thinking like this can be particularly corrosive to the creative process, where I can think my way out of ideas before I've even tried them.  My friend Jolie, who gives me brilliant flashes of insight and likes to tell me what to do, has demonstrated the creative process to me this way: She puts one arm up above her head, palm open, then pulls her fist down to her heart, and then opens it again as she throws her arm out.  Jolie describes this mime act as an "open channel," the way that the most inspired art is created.  She's always encouraging me to work on instinct, rather than through my head, where the creative flow can get stopped up, then trapped. 

In the spirit of practicing less thinking and more creating, I'm trying a philosophy I named "just do."  And this is said in a calm, flowy way, not in the nike advertising way of "just do it!"  which is so damn pushy, and not very encouraging.  In fact, I think "just do it!" is designed to make you feel bad, because most people won't, but you can buy a pair of shoes, and then feel like you did.  

Anyway, "just do" is a way of reminding myself to stop thinking, and just go do what I'm meant to do.   Which is making things.  And answering the emails of people who want me to make more things for them specially. "Just do"  means getting out of bed when I wake up, so I can go to the studio to make the stuff I need to make  and want to make.  And not thinking about whether it will sell or if it's a stupid idea.  Also, to "just do" means minimizing distractions and goofing off, which I have become supremely awesome at.   I've mentioned lately how I think I've lost my focus, and the more I think about losing my focus, the more I find myself organizing my tools or scrubbing clay off the wall.  Anyway, I'm going to leave you with this quote I found on the walls at one of my watering holes, and get back to my work.

There is hope in honest error, none in the icy perfections of the mere stylist. --Charles Rennie Mackintosh

social media

When I'm trying to meditate, or breathe my way through yoga, or focus on The Now, I often find myself drifting into a fantasy of being interviewed by Vanity Fair, Ira Glass, Teri Gross, or even Playboy. You know those quick little Q & A's that some magazines do? One of the questions they always ask people is what characteristic is most important to have, and what traits they most value in other people. If I were asked that question, my answer would be "integrity" and "bravery." Playboy bunnies almost always answer "honesty." How do I know that?  I just do.

Of course if I were being interviewed by those people-- and I'm still holding out that it could happen someday-- I would not be asked either of those questions, I would be asked the question I always get, which is, "What is your advice to an artist starting out?"  I've already written a bunch about that topic right here.

I'm always thinking about that question, and refining my past answers, and coming up with new responses. I have a new answer right now.  My new answer to the question of what I advise artists starting out-- or who are already out and on their way-- is to get very skilled at social media.  And when I say "social media" I am referring to the social media juggernaut: the facebook, blogging, and the twitter.  And Flikr, which I guess is social media, but I look at it more as online image storage. And I'm rooting for Google+, which I adopted right away because it is so much better than facebook.  But I'm not going to get into that right now.

I've been trying to write an informative and interesting post about this topic all week, and every post I've attempted totally sucks. There is so much information about social media out there already.  I know I have knowledge to share that is helpful for the artist, but my brain keeps overloading.

 Then, it occurred to me as I was writing a third sucky draft on this topic, that rather than try to figure out what I should write about social media, I should use social media as a way to let you tell me what you want to know, what's helpful for you.  So I set up a discussion tab on my facebook fan page, and then I was promptly informed by facebook that they are discontinuing the discussion tab soon because they think the best way to encourage discussion is by people leaving comments on your page.  That is just one reason why I get so sick of facebook, they are always trying to control how I use them.  So we'll keep it simple by starting the discussion right here in the comments forum.  Post any question, answer, comment, or thought about social media you have below.  Let's get the discussion going! 

focus...

Yesterday as I was on my way to my local box manufacturer to pick up an order of shipping boxes, crawling along in freeway traffic trying to edge around an accident that turned the road into a parking lot, I fondly recalled the days where I hardly left the studio except to go home and sleep.  I would get to work as early as possible in the day to throw, trim, decorate, and glaze.  I didn't have a computer, employees, a production schedule, or frankly, many customers to distract me from my work.  Now, my studio work is only one aspect of what I have to do everyday.  And it's very easy for the day to turn into a total clusterfuck.

By the time I got through the accident,  took the wrong exit and spent another 20 minutes trying to  get back to where I needed to be, picked up the boxes, and drove back to the studio, 90 minutes had gone by.  And I was a simmering.  My mantra, in these moments, is, "This is your job, and it's better than working for the man, trying to look busy while you think up clever facebook posts, being told when you can take your lunch break or your vacation, and dying for Fridays when you can go get wasted and forget what you do for a living." Too bad that mantra doesn't do shit for making me feel better, or productive.

With the distractions I cope with every day it's a wonder I have a business at all. What's the lesson here? I have no effin' idea.  Actually, I do. It's all about choices.  I chose to go pick up boxes instead of having them delivered because it saved me 90 bucks in freight charges.  And I need that 90 bucks for my therapist who helps me deal with my resentments and anxiety around my business and artwork.  See?  It's all working together like a nice, tightly interlocked puzzle.  Now, where's that damn corner piece?

endless summer

Last week, I got into an accident on my bicycle, resulting in a neck injury that has kept me from doing any studio work.  For those of you that like accident details, I was doored, which in bicycling parlance means someone suddenly opened their car door in front of me.  One second I was pedaling along, the next second I was flying through the air, and preparing to make contact with the bumper from a stopped truck in front of me with my face.  It's amazing how when you are in an accident your brain is still processing and thinking, and what I was thinking was how much plastic surgery was going to cost to fix my about-to-be-smashed face.  Somehow, I got my feet under me and rolled onto my shoulder, which hurt, but saved the bones in my face.  Somewhere in between the flying and the sprawling on the pavement, I also tweaked my neck.

 I work very little during July and August, and the day of my accident was the same day I was "getting back to work."  I know I should be prepping myself for the holidays during the summer, but you know what?  Fuck the holidays.  I'm sick to death of being a slave to the season. Being off work for another week gave me plenty of time to consider how screwed I am right now.  I made all kinds of false promises to myself about what I would do this summer to tighten up my business, make new work, ramp up my marketing.  All I did was get so lazy that I can barely answer emails.  And, I gained weight  from the gallons of beer I drank in my backyard in between naps.  Honestly, I think I slept more in my backyard this summer than I did in my own bed. Here it is, almost mid-September and what do I have to show for it?  A half completed new website and 5 pounds.


This is the problem:  When the pressure is off, I'm off.  My brain gets all floaty and vague.  My goals get fuzzy.  I forget that I have a job. For me to get shit done, I need to be under the gun. By the way, I think that expression should be the new "Keep calm and carry on" and someone should make a poster of it right now.  And by "someone" I mean "someone else".  I need a challenge, and a deadline to keep things popping in my work.  And I'm ready!  I swear I'm ready to get going again, if only I could turn my head... 

I made $$$$'s making pottery, you can too!

If you've read this blog for a while, you all know I've mastered the art of the scathing email. The problem with the perfect scathing email is that the person who you are targeting is usually something of an innocent bystander, unaware that they have just set off one of your touchy little buttons, and sending them the scather you just composed will probably just confuse them and wonder why you are such an angry person.

That's why I have you guys. You understand my touchy little buttons. And you know why I am angry, and you think it's funny when I get mad, unlike some people, who just think I'm bitter and maybe even psychotic.

Dear Whitney,

I'm the owner of a new website called www.makeshitloadsofmoneyfrom pottery.com*. I'm developing a series of products and services to help pottery hobbyists turn their passion for pottery into a money-making business. I was wondering if you would be kind enough to do an interview for me, answering questions about how you started and grew your business to what it is today. The benefits of working with us are that we will be producing a product you can use in your own business, and within the interview we will promote you and your accomplishments. Thank you!

(*This is not the actual name of the site. While some people get a charge out of publicly crapping on people's dreams, I like to crap on people's dreams behind their back.)

Well, I love being interviewed, because I love to talk about myself, so I click the link to check it out. The headline on the site screams, "Learn How to Discover the Stacks of $100 Bills Hidden in Your Pottery Wheel!" I honestly cannot think of a better title for my own how-to guide, and I'm ripping it off right now and replacing my current title, which is, "Never Give Up: A Potter's Guide to the 30% Profit Margin." I did not realize how dull that title is until just now.

The bullet points are many, one of which promised to show potters how to "simply" and "easily" make extra money by spending "blissful hours enjoying your pottery craft". There are more entreaties stating that starting and running a pottery business can fit into any lifestyle, despite any other work or family commitments one may have. That made me think about my pal Sara Paloma, who works at 2 in the morning so she can make pots without her two children asking her to make them a peanut butter sandwich. Has she read this? Does she know she's living the dream? The site actually says that it is possible to become fulfilled and happy while making a huge profit that could end all your financial worries. The words came in bold, just like that. Somehow, that just made it seem truer.

I'm wondering how someone got the idea of hawking the potter's life as a late night infomercial? Because I am jumping on that shit right away. With a little make-up, a push up bra, some clay-splattered low-rise jeans, and my cell phone camera, I think I can sell it even better than this site can. They ask me to close my eyes and "imagine" being called by "Martha Stewart for a feature," and "cash-loaded buyers flocking to buy [my] creations", selling my pieces for "thousands of dollars per piece" so I can "purchase a new car" or go on that "island holiday I've been fantasizing about!" Screw cars and island vacations, I'm talking about going out and being able to buy any kind of beer I want without even considering that gigantic utility bill I just got, because I can pay for both. I can, because I just sold the hell out of some cupcake stands and sugar bowls.

Dear____

Thank you for your email and interest in my work. I'm currently not available for interviews due to my overwhelming obligations at work and home. Good luck with your project.

--Whitney