Museware Musings

Waiting for My Grasshopper

“Wow. That is cool. I would so buy that if I saw it in a store.” It was a turkey platter – I’d spent hours on it, covering the entire surface with words of thanks and gratitude. It was cool.  Once finished, I placed it on the drying rack and poured myself a cup of coffee. After two sips I was back at the rack, admiring my work.

It was 2005. I had spent the last three years in pursuit of my dream – owning a Paint Your Own Pottery Studio. The dream had taken flight and we ended up with three, opening a new studio every year. I was working my ass off.

Some weeks later, I was on my hands and knees, scraping chocolate cake off of the floor - remnants of a party of screeching 9 year old girls. Jillions of tiny black ants had materialized & were crawling around the mess with crazy purpose. As I sat on the cold floor with a butter knife in my hand, I thought about the turkey platter. I squashed a few ants. I made a decision.

A couple of years earlier, my business partner and I took a trip to New York to visit the studio of Lorrie Veasey; owner of Our Name is Mud. Lorrie was actively involved with CCSA – a professional organization that supports and educates owners & planners of PYOP studios. She also owned a large and growing finishware company and was selling her hand painted pottery to thousands of accounts all over the country. I told her of my dream to someday create my own line of finishware. “When you’re ready,” she said, “call me. I’ll walk you through it.”

Museware Pottery  is in its third year. During its infancy, Lorrie & I exchanged many dozens of emails. I'm sure I was a complete pain. She reviewed my business plan & pricing structure; guided me through months of packing and shipping issues; warned me away from some costly big ideas; praised and encouraged my best efforts. She called it building good pottery Karma.

With her guidance, I've gone from painting at my kitchen table to a 1500 square foot studio. We need to double our space. Last year, business increased almost 300%. I'm working my ass off. I’m also waiting for my Grasshopper so that I can pass it on. If it weren’t for Lorrie’s generosity, I’d still be scraping chocolate cake off of the floors. Fricken ants.

Thanks, Mud Chick.

On Quiet and Empty Things

These are things that remind me of my dad: His chair, its back cushion curved like his, its seat shaped by the length of his legs; every morning at 5:30 when I came downstairs, I’d find him in it – TV on, cat in his lap, coffee mug in hand. His truck, quiet and dusty in the dark garage; I drove it a couple of weeks ago. When I turned the key, Willie Nelson played on the CD. The yard, winter leaves still gathered in its corners like the snowdrifts that covered them not long ago.

I’ve grown accustomed to the empty chair, dark and alone in the half light of the morning – the locked garage door – the wild tangles of the yard. So this morning, as I stood in front of his closet and drew my hand across the sleeves of his shirts, I was not prepared. I was not prepared to stare into his empty shoes and feel the huge space he left behind. I miss him.

Please Marry My Brother

This is my brother, Russell. He's 6'4" and around 210 lbs. He turned 50 on August 15, which makes him a Leo - fire sign - strong willed, opinionated, bossy, charming.  He's handsome, wicked funny, a gifted musician and chronically single. While there is nothing actually wrong with him, he does work weird hours & often has to travel to make a living. The last time I counted, he had something like four (five?) cars and seven motorcycles. This alone may explain why he has never married. Who wants to park a block away?

This is a man who can fix just about anything - ok, your car or motorcycle but maybe not your broken furniture. He will make you laugh every day. He might cook you hot dogs or spaghetti but you'll have get the dishes out of the sink first. You'll need to seriously clean the bathroom. He'll write you a song and sing it to you and it will be poetic and romantic. You won't want to mess with his garage. I call it Man Land. And even though he tortured me as a child and I hated his guts, I'm very fond of him now so you'll have to share him. Our family is crazy. You'll need to be, too.

Another way to avoid relaxing.

In an effort to fill up every second of my life with high maintenance people and things, I've decided that the few minutes each night that I spend relaxing and reading Scottish historical novels (The Outlander Series by Diana Gabaldon - incredible sex scenes) could be better spent. I also thought this could take the place of my long lost practice of daily journaling. Most of my life - every unedited detail - is recorded in dozens of cloth bound books hidden away in an old suitcase. I've instructed my mother not to read them until I've been dead for five years. Seriously, five years.

Next month, Nicole (my awesome painter/production manager/kiln room manager/shipper/receiver and occasional therapist) and I will take my line to The National Stationery Show in NYC. We'll pack up the truck and take the trip from Manchester, the largest city in New Hampshire (pop. 110,000) to the Really Big City. Verra exciting (using my Scottish accent.) I plan on being the hit of the show and becoming Wicked Famous.

In an effort to look incredibly talented and earn the questionable title "artist" I've been on a three month long design binge. I've added a bunch of new stuff to my Baby Collection and am very pleased with the results. The above image is a preview of what we'll be showing. Using a combination of stamps designed by Christine Adolph & my own hand-carved stamps, the colors and shapes in this new collection just make me smile. I'm in love with the scroll stamp that's part of her Garden Melange Collection. Her work is featured prominently in my own. Watch for more of her great designs in my growing Valentine's Day collection.