Year One 2025
It has been just about one year since I officially opened my studio. In that time, my life has changed in ways both expected and surprising. I transitioned from a full-time job to being the boss of all of my time—a freedom that comes with its own learning curve. Running a home studio adds another layer entirely, where the boundaries between “home” and “work” are constantly blurred. It’s a challenge many people first encountered during COVID, but one that continues long after.
Some of the challenges are practical, and some are ongoing.
Dust, for example. Keeping the residue of the ceramic process from coating the entire house has proven difficult—something I’ve been less than successful at, especially since housekeeping was never my strong suit to begin with.
Then there’s the kiln. It lives in the basement: a freezing, stone-lined space beneath our 1900s Queen Anne Victorian. My husband and I think of ourselves less as owners and more as the current “guardians” of the house, and the basement feels very much like it belongs to another era entirely.
Because of this setup, every piece of greenware must travel down two flights of stairs—a precarious journey at best. There have been casualties along the way. I’ve taken some major falls, destroyed significant amounts of work, broken a table, and—luckily—walked away with only minor injuries to myself.
Still, despite all of this, the studio is open. The work continues. One year in, I’m learning how to live inside this balance of making, managing, and adapting—often all at once.
The farmers markets, in particular, stood out. They were places where I saw the same people regularly, building familiarity and, eventually, repeat customers. Relationships formed gradually—sometimes through conversation, sometimes simply through someone choosing another piece to take home. There’s something steadying about that rhythm, about being recognized and recognizing others in return.
The markets also offered a practical pleasure: the ability to shop while I worked. Fresh produce, mushrooms I never leave without, baked goods, and a strong mix of local food vendors made long market days feel more balanced. Bringing home warm Indian food at the end of an afternoon was a simple reward and a very good way to close out the day.
Christmas marked the end of my first full season of craft shows, both large and small. Some were very successful; others less so, but all were instructive.
I’ve come to think of this first season as a kind of beta test—both for my work and for my place in the broader craft scene. The lessons were many and, overall, encouraging. They’ll be carried with me into the 2026 season.
As I look ahead, the next few months will be about refinement: merging the pieces that clearly resonate with my own vision and aesthetic. It’s quiet, necessary work—best done now, before the summer season arrives and the cycle begins again.