Grounded in play, Clayfulness is a newsletter exploring what it means to be a small business with transparency. This is a place where you’ll find failures and victories from my studio practice, how I stay motivated and when I’m not. This is more than a monthly word exercise for myself, but a space to understand what this little business is and where it wants to go. I call it Clayfulness because clay is the background of my life, but there's also more. My life is full of other endeavors and being playful is one of my core principles in everything I do.
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“When can I get back to work?” I asked.
“3 to 4 months” the doctor said.
I was completely shocked and was truly caught off guard. I tried to explain myself by telling her that pottery wasn’t a hobby, but that it’s my job. It’s how I make a living. Do I have to wait that long? Can I really not get back to work until January? She stressed again that I shouldn’t rush back into things because I need time to heal and could easily make things worse.
In that moment, sitting in the exam room fighting back tears, 3 to 4 months felt like an eternity. In my last newsletter, before seeing the specialist, I was overly optimistic and mentioned I could hopefully get back to work by mid-October—I even mentioned I could possibly “put together a small holiday collection”. Ha! After going over the MRI scan findings and looking closely at the cross sections of my lumbar spine with my doctor, it became clear to me that my herniated disc is quite serious, especially if I want to continue the work that I do. A lot of things need to change, but before that I need to heal, rest and strengthen before attempting any type of repetitive and physically demanding work.
After the shock wore off, I pulled myself together. I don’t want to portray a sense of panic here because I’m in good spirits considering everything. Financially, it’s scary, but I plan on paying myself $3,000/month through the end of the year from my business account. I will be ok. I do have some savings, but it’s a far cry from what I would normally make during my busiest months of the year. I typically generate 40-50% of my yearly income in the October, November, December months. But I need to get over that fact and move on. Previous records do not apply.
I’m having to constantly remind myself that my longterm health is so much more important than the income of one holiday season. As much as my business and I rely on structure, forecast and planning, life doesn’t operate that way. Nothing is certain. Embracing the unknown will always win over the fight and urge to control.
So, what does this temporary pause mean for the studio? And, what am I doing with my time?
As of now, I will likely have nothing to sell between Thanksgiving and New Year. So if you’ve been wanting some ceramics from me, now is the time to snag something—a few pieces are in stock but they won’t last long. My big annual winter studio sale won’t be happening either, which is a total bummer. I enjoy the festivities it brings to my workspace and I always look forward to opening my garage, connecting with folks in real life and showing customers where the work gets made. For now, I’ll have to wait until spring or summer before I host my next in-person sale.
Although this year is taking on a different shape, I do have a few things I’m excited about. Just because my ceramics business is on pause, doesn’t mean my life is. My days are surprisingly full.
For the first time, I designed a calendar! This is something I’ve always wanted to do, but always ran out of time because clay work would be the priority. A small limited edition run will be available very soon and I can’t wait to share. Design files have been submitted and I’m waiting for a final press check before I take on pre-orders! (Be on the lookout, crossing my fingers for a release next week :)
In the illustration and painting community, October is also known as #inktober and I have been keeping up with the daily challenge. This year I kept it simple and took inspiration from the garden with my own prompts. Every day I would find something that caught my eye and I’d paint with sumi on beautiful handmade watercolor paper I got from Case for Making. Throughout this newsletter, I’ve sprinkled some images I’ve painted this past month. In most cases, I made multiples trying to capture the essence and subtlety of the object. Sometimes a simple stroke can say so much and I love the minimalist exercise. I’ve decided to sell these small works; $30 for 1, $50 for 2, and if you want 3 or more they become $20 each. Please reach out via email to julie@cloutierceramics.com if you’re interested in purchasing any and I’ll reply with a pdf of what’s available.
And I’m teaching again! After a 6 month break, I’ve got a few online watercolor workshops lined up. On November 6th, I’ll be teaching Rock Portraits one of my favorite subjects to study. In this class, we dive deep into realistic rock paintings. It’s all about looking very closely at the details and painting what is directly in front of us. I hope you can join! The next one is on Wednesday, the day after election day, which I think would be a great way to decompress from all the political stress. It’s taught online, so you can paint from the coziness of your desk and a recording is available for 30 days if you can’t make the date. Beginners are very welcome!
My support system, side projects, photography class and savings account have kept me afloat during this unexpected setback. While I’ve been staying busy, enjoying the slowness of my days with mini productive moments, I still feel off. As if I know I forgot something, but can’t quite remember what it is. For the first time in 10 years, I’m not knee deep in clay, cramming for the holidays—and it feels really weird. In the last two months, I’ve barely gone into my studio. I know my identity is not my work, but it certainly feels good when the two overlap.
If you find yourself in some type of unplanned break, no matter the circumstance, focus on what you can do, lean on your support system and try something new. Silver lining’s are everywhere—that’s true most days. Easier said than done, but it’s something I’ve been practicing every day and it’s been helpful.
May you heal quickly and find that these simple ways of moving/thinking/seeing/feeling differently add up to some entirely and wonderfully unexpected.
It takes courage to let go. I herniated two discs and suffered from chronic pain for two years and it was so miserable to get to my studio and make pieces. I ended up closing my ceramic studio and moved to the Bay Area, it was painful, still is, it was my second "career change" and it's difficult to feel lost, or have to find something else while you navigate through pain and emotions. Thanks for sharing, it felt reassuring for my decision and whatever comes next, it's great to be honest with your body and respect it.