I stopped selling pottery and closed my shop because the art that once brought me peace and joy had become an obligation and a chore.

I hated thinking about my pottery as a “product” and spending so much time on the back-end admin stuff like photography and marketing.

Of course, when I signed the lease on my Front street studio, I WAS thinking of my pottery as a product, and I was ENJOYING all the organizing and spreadsheets and creative thinking around how to capture my studio practice and share it online. If you asked me then, I would tell you my dream was to be Edith Heath, and design a classic line of hand made ceramic dinnerware.

But I signed that lease in November of 2019.

And I opened my studio in March of 2020.

And a lot of things changed very quickly in the first 6 months I was open.

When we all re-opened our doors in June, my decorative style had changed and I thought I would simply get back on track business-wise.

I got an EIDL loan, and made different spreadsheets, and was buoyed by the ecstatic response of everyone rallying to support artists and local businesses.

I joined an online artist and business group and had a lot of discussions about how it’s ok to make and sell your work in a world that seems to be in upheaval.

And that is true: it is ok. It is necessary.

But I still felt really really weird about it.

We talked a lot about how artists DESERVE to make a living wage selling their work.

And they (we) do.

But it got me thinking deeply about the word DESERVE and if I deserve a living wage, doesn’t everyone? (yes, of course we all do)

And what about people who can’t afford to buy my (correctly priced) artwork? Do they not DESERVE to have something nice made by a local artist they love (well … yes, of course they do but …).

And what about everything else that happened that summer? Did everyone DESERVE what happened there? (wow … that took a turn)

The idea of DESERVING is a moral one. We can, and often do, disagree on questions of morality.

As I contemplated this idea, my own moral compass led me to a place where it was impossible to run a traditional business. I had one employee and hoped to have more. I experimented with ideas of equity sharing and coop building, and made plans to run my business on a break-even model where everyone (including me) made the same money.

In the summer of 2023, something happened that set my life on an entirely new course. A good friend and elderly neighbor had a health crisis, and my husband and I decided to move in with and care for him.

This meant no longer living in the same building as my studio, and having a new set of responsibilities that felt more immediate and important.

I tried for a while to keep regular studio hours, but the shift of focus was too all-encompassing.

What I was doing was directly helping people, and providing a service to my community in a way that I couldn’t see my studio doing. It filled a need I had been trying to get my art and studio practice to fill, but hand’t been able to do.

Soon I was caregiving for a couple other people in the community, and pottery officially had to take a back seat.

So in September of 2024 I closed my studio. I shut down my online store and stopped doing art fairs. I haven’t sold a piece of pottery for about 6 months now.

During this break, I never stopped making pottery.

I don’t think I ever will.