Clay Primarily high-fire stoneware, porcelain, and local clay
Primary forming method Coil and pinch
Primary firing temperature Cone-10 wood firing and gas reduction
Favorite surface treatment Sprayed-on local clay slip
Favorite tools Banding wheel
Studio playlist My music taste is eclectic and forever shifting. I make playlists obsessively. A few artists I frequently return to are Jessica Pratt, Gábor Szabó, Gillian Welch, Sun Ra, Madlib, MF Doom, Ty Segall, Solange, and Big Thief.
Wishlist I would love a gas kiln.
Studio
I share a small 10 × 12-foot (3 × 3.6-m) studio with my partner, Ryan Schnirel, who is also a ceramic artist. We are located near the village of Mendocino, California, about ten minutes inland from the Pacific Ocean and nestled on the edge of a dense 70-acre forest. Our studio is adjoined to our home, a redwood cabin, by a deck/walkway. Because the studio is only a few steps away, it’s no big deal to pop down the stairs and check on my work as it’s drying, or to have an after-dinner late-night making session. In addition to being in a beautiful forest, our location is ideal because it sits atop a large clay deposit. The wild clay here is special in that it’s workable right out of the ground, a lovely brick red to deep maroon when fired, and can handle temperatures above 2400°F (1316°C). We essentially have a lifetime supply of dreamy clay right beneath our feet.
Working in and sharing a confined space is challenging, mainly because the scale of my work continues to get larger and larger. One positive of being in a small space is that it doesn’t allow me to let unfinished work pile up. I have to be very efficient with finishing and firing work, so I can move it out of my studio and make room for the new. Because we are renting our space, we can’t make any major changes to the studio; thus, it is a very simple setup with a couple of worktables and shelves for works-in-progress. Luckily, the climate where we live is mild year-round, which allows us to utilize outdoor space as well. I have a large folding table outside for rolling big coils, while all of our slips, clays, and glazes are stored behind the studio in buckets or under tarps.
Paying Dues (and Bills)
I received a BFA from the University of Colorado, Boulder, in 2018. Since then, I have moved all over the country following various ceramic opportunities, primarily post-baccalaureate programs and residencies. One of the residencies was at Mendocino Art Center, which inevitably led me to settle in the area. I now teach non-credit ceramic classes at Mendocino College. I am lucky to have a flexible schedule outside of my day job. At least 2–4 days a week are spent solely in the studio. On studio days, I typically start with a slow morning, drinking coffee, doing yoga, and making breakfast. My goal is to get in the studio by 10am and then work for several hours, pull myself away for a late lunch, work until 7 or 8pm, and finally stop for dinner. If I have a deadline coming up, this schedule becomes more rigorous, and I will return to the studio after dinner and work until at least 10 or 11pm. I teach one day a week and then spend 1–2 days a week doing ceramic technician work.
I currently do not make enough money from my art to be a full-time studio artist, so my day job is integral to supporting my practice financially. That being said, my job complements my personal practice in invaluable ways. It helps me stay grounded by getting me out of my own echo chamber. I love working with my students because I am challenged by perspectives that are different from my own. Helping them solve problems in their work keeps me on my toes, constantly learning and growing alongside them.
Marketing
I sell most of my work online through Instagram. Occasionally, I sell work at galleries and have a boutique I work with in Mendocino Village that sells some of my smaller works. Ideally, I’d like to move toward gallery representation, but haven’t met the right people yet. How I frame my use of social media is important to me. When I post things just to appease the algorithm, it feels dishonest and even soul-sucking. Instead, I think of it as a public diary or scrapbook, sharing honest thoughts and images about my work and creative process. If I stay true to posting what I feel passionate about, I find that other people respond in an overwhelmingly positive way. I think this is because in an age of incessant advertising and AI, where folks are constantly having to question what is real, people are desperate for authenticity. I have mixed feelings about social media, but ultimately, it has been an indispensable tool for me as an artist. Having an online presence has allowed me to grow my career while maintaining my preferred lifestyle: living in a treehouse deep in the forest and in close reciprocity with my environment.
Mind
I get a lot of inspiration through books and videos on my at-the-moment topic of fixation. Often, I start with an interest, do a deep dive on it, and end up in an entirely different topic that inspires a body of work. Right now, I am reading The Word for World is Forest by Ursula Le Guin. For the past year or so, I have been researching pre-Christian pagan Europe, particularly the UK and Ireland, after a two-week trip there this past fall. I try to avoid sources of inspiration that are driven by an algorithm, like Instagram or Pinterest, because I don’t want to perpetuate the increasingly homogenized ideas and aesthetics they generate. One constant in my studio is the Art 21 series through PBS— I watch them religiously. I also like listening to talks by my favorite artists and thinkers. Ursula Le Guin, Donna Haraway, and Octavia Butler have all been deeply influential in developing my worldview—I now think of my object making as a form of speculative fiction akin to their writings. I consider Ursula Le Guin’s essay, “A Non-Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be,” as my manifesto.
Much of my work is centered around the use of local materials, such as clay, wood used in firing kilns, and salt harvested from the Pacific Ocean for atmospheric effects. These materials and their limitations define creative parameters for me to work within. Rather than seeking a pre-determined aesthetic, I am most interested in the aesthetics that arise organically from using the materials in my immediate environment. These materials imbue their own meaning in the work, carrying with them a more-than-human, primordial quality. This kind of place-based making is aligned with my value system and provides a center of gravity for my practice.
Outside of the studio, I have found that physical activity is the best way for me to creatively recharge. Anything to get me out of my mind and into my body. In fact, some of my most generative ideas have come to me while running, walking, or hiking. Too much time in my head inevitably leads me to feeling stuck.
Most Important Lesson
The most important lesson I’ve learned is that you cannot wait around for inspiration to hit; inspiration ultimately comes from a disciplined practice. Only a small portion of my time in the studio is truly inspired or ‘in the flow,’ the rest of it is showing up consistently, whether I want to be there or not. Making work makes work. I still consider myself an early-career artist, and some of the best advice I’ve received came from a mentor who has been pursuing their career for decades. They told me to be patient and simply keep showing up, over and over, regardless of rejection or difficulty. At some point, something will break and you’ll find your market. Obsession, coupled with discipline and tenacity, is required to be an artist.
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Just the Facts
Clay
Primarily high-fire stoneware, porcelain, and local clay
Primary forming method
Coil and pinch
Primary firing temperature
Cone-10 wood firing and gas reduction
Favorite surface treatment
Sprayed-on local clay slip
Favorite tools
Banding wheel
Studio playlist
My music taste is eclectic and forever shifting. I make playlists obsessively. A few artists I frequently return to are Jessica Pratt, Gábor Szabó, Gillian Welch, Sun Ra, Madlib, MF Doom, Ty Segall, Solange, and Big Thief.
Wishlist
I would love a gas kiln.
Studio
I share a small 10 × 12-foot (3 × 3.6-m) studio with my partner, Ryan Schnirel, who is also a ceramic artist. We are located near the village of Mendocino, California, about ten minutes inland from the Pacific Ocean and nestled on the edge of a dense 70-acre forest. Our studio is adjoined to our home, a redwood cabin, by a deck/walkway. Because the studio is only a few steps away, it’s no big deal to pop down the stairs and check on my work as it’s drying, or to have an after-dinner late-night making session. In addition to being in a beautiful forest, our location is ideal because it sits atop a large clay deposit. The wild clay here is special in that it’s workable right out of the ground, a lovely brick red to deep maroon when fired, and can handle temperatures above 2400°F (1316°C). We essentially have a lifetime supply of dreamy clay right beneath our feet.
Working in and sharing a confined space is challenging, mainly because the scale of my work continues to get larger and larger. One positive of being in a small space is that it doesn’t allow me to let unfinished work pile up. I have to be very efficient with finishing and firing work, so I can move it out of my studio and make room for the new. Because we are renting our space, we can’t make any major changes to the studio; thus, it is a very simple setup with a couple of worktables and shelves for works-in-progress. Luckily, the climate where we live is mild year-round, which allows us to utilize outdoor space as well. I have a large folding table outside for rolling big coils, while all of our slips, clays, and glazes are stored behind the studio in buckets or under tarps.
Paying Dues (and Bills)
I received a BFA from the University of Colorado, Boulder, in 2018. Since then, I have moved all over the country following various ceramic opportunities, primarily post-baccalaureate programs and residencies. One of the residencies was at Mendocino Art Center, which inevitably led me to settle in the area. I now teach non-credit ceramic classes at Mendocino College. I am lucky to have a flexible schedule outside of my day job. At least 2–4 days a week are spent solely in the studio. On studio days, I typically start with a slow morning, drinking coffee, doing yoga, and making breakfast. My goal is to get in the studio by 10am and then work for several hours, pull myself away for a late lunch, work until 7 or 8pm, and finally stop for dinner. If I have a deadline coming up, this schedule becomes more rigorous, and I will return to the studio after dinner and work until at least 10 or 11pm. I teach one day a week and then spend 1–2 days a week doing ceramic technician work.
I currently do not make enough money from my art to be a full-time studio artist, so my day job is integral to supporting my practice financially. That being said, my job complements my personal practice in invaluable ways. It helps me stay grounded by getting me out of my own echo chamber. I love working with my students because I am challenged by perspectives that are different from my own. Helping them solve problems in their work keeps me on my toes, constantly learning and growing alongside them.
Marketing
I sell most of my work online through Instagram. Occasionally, I sell work at galleries and have a boutique I work with in Mendocino Village that sells some of my smaller works. Ideally, I’d like to move toward gallery representation, but haven’t met the right people yet. How I frame my use of social media is important to me. When I post things just to appease the algorithm, it feels dishonest and even soul-sucking. Instead, I think of it as a public diary or scrapbook, sharing honest thoughts and images about my work and creative process. If I stay true to posting what I feel passionate about, I find that other people respond in an overwhelmingly positive way. I think this is because in an age of incessant advertising and AI, where folks are constantly having to question what is real, people are desperate for authenticity. I have mixed feelings about social media, but ultimately, it has been an indispensable tool for me as an artist. Having an online presence has allowed me to grow my career while maintaining my preferred lifestyle: living in a treehouse deep in the forest and in close reciprocity with my environment.
Mind
I get a lot of inspiration through books and videos on my at-the-moment topic of fixation. Often, I start with an interest, do a deep dive on it, and end up in an entirely different topic that inspires a body of work. Right now, I am reading The Word for World is Forest by Ursula Le Guin. For the past year or so, I have been researching pre-Christian pagan Europe, particularly the UK and Ireland, after a two-week trip there this past fall. I try to avoid sources of inspiration that are driven by an algorithm, like Instagram or Pinterest, because I don’t want to perpetuate the increasingly homogenized ideas and aesthetics they generate. One constant in my studio is the Art 21 series through PBS— I watch them religiously. I also like listening to talks by my favorite artists and thinkers. Ursula Le Guin, Donna Haraway, and Octavia Butler have all been deeply influential in developing my worldview—I now think of my object making as a form of speculative fiction akin to their writings. I consider Ursula Le Guin’s essay, “A Non-Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be,” as my manifesto.
Much of my work is centered around the use of local materials, such as clay, wood used in firing kilns, and salt harvested from the Pacific Ocean for atmospheric effects. These materials and their limitations define creative parameters for me to work within. Rather than seeking a pre-determined aesthetic, I am most interested in the aesthetics that arise organically from using the materials in my immediate environment. These materials imbue their own meaning in the work, carrying with them a more-than-human, primordial quality. This kind of place-based making is aligned with my value system and provides a center of gravity for my practice.
Outside of the studio, I have found that physical activity is the best way for me to creatively recharge. Anything to get me out of my mind and into my body. In fact, some of my most generative ideas have come to me while running, walking, or hiking. Too much time in my head inevitably leads me to feeling stuck.
Most Important Lesson
The most important lesson I’ve learned is that you cannot wait around for inspiration to hit; inspiration ultimately comes from a disciplined practice. Only a small portion of my time in the studio is truly inspired or ‘in the flow,’ the rest of it is showing up consistently, whether I want to be there or not. Making work makes work. I still consider myself an early-career artist, and some of the best advice I’ve received came from a mentor who has been pursuing their career for decades. They told me to be patient and simply keep showing up, over and over, regardless of rejection or difficulty. At some point, something will break and you’ll find your market. Obsession, coupled with discipline and tenacity, is required to be an artist.
emeliegracepotter.com
Instagram: @emeliegracepotter
Photos: Nikolas Zvolensky.
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