Favorite surface treatment slip trailing clay spikes with a pastry bag, glazing, then luster firing the spikes
Favorite tools an extruder
Studio playlist Mornings: Bon Iver, Cinematic Orchestra, and Phillip Glass. Evenings: podcasts with Conan O’Brien, Bill Burr, and Where Everybody Knows Your Name. Nights: Eminem, Kanye West, SlowThai, and Prof.
Wishlist double the space
Studio
My studio is in Compton Heights, a historic neighborhood in St. Louis, Missouri, established in the late 1800s by German brewers. The building where I work is a carriage house originally constructed in 1912 alongside our main residence. Initially used as a garage, it has since been converted into my studio. When my wife, Kimi, and I were preparing to move our family from Los Angeles to St. Louis, it was important for us to find a home with a dedicated space that could serve as my studio.
One of the aspects I love about being an artist is how easily family and work co-exist. It’s not uncommon for my 4-year-old son, Huxley, to visit me on his way to play in the backyard. These moments were a significant factor in our decision-making process when planning to expand my practice.
The building is divided into three distinct spaces. Initially serving as a two-car garage, the main studio area measures 22×30 feet (6.7×9.1 m). Here, I house three kilns, a slab roller, two extruders, three worktables, and whatever shelving can fit in the space. The other two spaces, initially designated as chauffeur’s quarters, are smaller. One room, measuring 5×5 feet (1.5×1.5 m), functions as my spray room and has a sink. The entrance area features a small desk, a closet where I store glazes, and a compact bathroom. I also use the basement of our home as storage for unplaced work, a photography area, and a workshop for wiring and assembling pieces.
My studio is laid out without a specific workflow in mind. Guided by conceptual ideas, the process for each of my pieces varies—some works demand slab building, others require the use of extruders, and at times I experiment with new processes that require different equipment. As a self-taught artist, I am constantly learning and revising my techniques, and I intentionally organize my space to accommodate this.
I have two guiding principles for my studio spaces. They should intentionally be uncomfortable—this is a place for work, not lounging. Second, finished work isn’t allowed to linger. If I’m surrounded by too many finished pieces, I start to question why I’m motivated to complete more.
Paying Dues (and Bills)
Previously, I worked as an art director in both advertising and tech. Despite the obvious differences in the final products of my current ceramics work, I find parallels between my past career and my current creative approach and learning process.
In advertising, my focus was on concepts—whether collaborating with illustrators, photographers, or filmmakers, the idea always drove the production. Ceramics operates similarly for me: each piece begins with a concept that influences the methods used in its creation.
My entry into advertising started as a self-taught graphic designer, leading to a learning path primarily based on trial and error. I’ve discovered that my ceramics practice follows a similar trajectory. In the basement of my home, I have my “mistake room.” It’s a room full of “failed” pieces that were mostly created in my first few years of learning ceramics. Because I knew so little in those early years, they were some of my most creative and experimental. Almost all of my current collections originated from a “mistake” I made early on. When I need inspiration, I visit my mistake room for ideas.
Running an art practice requires a diverse set of skills, and I find it helpful to view myself as two distinct personas: the Manager and the Worker.
Each morning starts with the Manager going over workload, replying to emails, sending invoices, ordering . . . managerial stuff. The last thing the Manager does is make a to-do list. Once the to-do list is set, I switch to worker mode.
Worker mode is when I get to shut off my brain and churn. This allows me to focus solely on crafting without distractions, leaving managerial worries behind. When I’m in worker mode, how the business runs isn’t my problem; that’s the Manager’s deal. Despite my workload, I try to maintain 9-to-5 hours in the studio.
Marketing
The majority of my work is custom-made based on specific projects. Pieces featured on my website or social media serve as starting points for commissions. These custom projects vary widely, from different sizes and finishes to entirely new concepts. The pieces start with a conversation, usually, I’ll 3D model an idea, and once approved I enter it into my production schedule.
I thrive on diversity and try to avoid conceptual repetition in my work. Custom commissions allow me to offer something unique to the designers I work with while also holding my interest.
Social media has been instrumental in maintaining relationships and ensuring continued exposure for my work. However, the majority of my meaningful connections have come from in-person exhibitions. Even if the pieces viewed in these settings aren’t ultimately commissioned, they provide a sense of scale and quality that is often lost when viewed solely through a screen.
When I left my desk job, I committed to expanding my online presence, and since then, I’ve seen an increase in both my follower count and sales. Instagram has been particularly successful for me. Initially, I gained traction by posting reels showcasing finished pieces, but this approach wasn’t sustainable as I couldn’t produce finished work every day. Now, I focus on posting reels that highlight my creative process in a quick-cut edit format.
Most of my sales come directly from interior designers or individuals, facilitated either through social media or through in-person interactions. Given St. Louis’ limited art and design scene, it’s crucial for me to showcase my work in person on both the East and West Coasts.
To maintain a presence on the East Coast, I participate annually in the International Contemporary Furniture Fair (ICFF) in New York. This event attracts interior designers from all over the East Coast, providing me with a valuable opportunity to introduce myself and my work. Many of my commissions over the past two years have stemmed from my presence at ICFF.
To maintain a presence on the West Coast, I work with Coup D’Etat, a showroom with locations in San Francisco and Los Angeles, known for working with top designers. They show a collection of my work year round, providing significant exposure in that market.
Mind
To stay inspired I try to look outside the ceramics and furniture-making genre. I like to look at graphic and 3D design for inspiration. Sites like Designspiration, Design Milk, and Dribble lead me to new perspectives that help me view my work differently.
Over the years, I’ve realized that the most effective way for me to generate new ideas is to immerse myself in working on my current projects. The repetitive tasks involved in building elements for my pieces create a sort of mental lull where new ideas naturally begin to develop. When they do, I jot them down in my notebook and flesh them out later in 3D.
There are times when I’m stuck in the studio. It happens. Usually, it’s because what’s in my head isn’t translating to clay. I’ve learned that the best thing I can do in this situation is wrap it up and walk away. Solutions don’t come to me when I’m exhausted. Everything is easier the next day and I set my lead times so that I have time to start and stop.
When I’m not in the studio, I’m with my family. Our two boys are young and we’re grateful to have the time to watch them grow. While the income from ceramics isn’t as consistent as my previous career, being present for my children during these formative years is much more fulfilling.
Most Valuable Lesson
The most valuable lesson I’ve learned so far is the importance of intentionally making as many mistakes as possible. Going out of your way to do the “wrong” thing just to see what happens, and then paying attention and developing those mistakes will often lead to a new foundation for all your future work and guide you to a place that feels more authentic to you.
We understand your email address is private. You will receive emails and newsletters from Ceramic Arts Network. We will never share your information except as outlined in our privacy policy. You can unsubscribe at any time.
You have read of of your complimentary articles for the month.
For unlimited access to Ceramics Monthly premium content, subscribe right now for as low as $4.85/month.
We understand your email address is private. You will receive emails and newsletters from Ceramic Arts Network. We will never share your information except as outlined in our privacy policy. You can unsubscribe at any time.
Subscribe to Ceramics Monthly
Just the Facts
Clay
sculpture stoneware
Primary forming method
extruder, wheel, slab roller, handbuilding
Primary firing temperature
cone 5
Favorite surface treatment
slip trailing clay spikes with a pastry bag, glazing, then luster firing the spikes
Favorite tools
an extruder
Studio playlist
Mornings: Bon Iver, Cinematic Orchestra, and Phillip Glass. Evenings: podcasts with Conan O’Brien, Bill Burr, and Where Everybody Knows Your Name. Nights: Eminem, Kanye West, SlowThai, and Prof.
Wishlist
double the space
Studio
My studio is in Compton Heights, a historic neighborhood in St. Louis, Missouri, established in the late 1800s by German brewers. The building where I work is a carriage house originally constructed in 1912 alongside our main residence. Initially used as a garage, it has since been converted into my studio. When my wife, Kimi, and I were preparing to move our family from Los Angeles to St. Louis, it was important for us to find a home with a dedicated space that could serve as my studio.
One of the aspects I love about being an artist is how easily family and work co-exist. It’s not uncommon for my 4-year-old son, Huxley, to visit me on his way to play in the backyard. These moments were a significant factor in our decision-making process when planning to expand my practice.
The building is divided into three distinct spaces. Initially serving as a two-car garage, the main studio area measures 22×30 feet (6.7×9.1 m). Here, I house three kilns, a slab roller, two extruders, three worktables, and whatever shelving can fit in the space. The other two spaces, initially designated as chauffeur’s quarters, are smaller. One room, measuring 5×5 feet (1.5×1.5 m), functions as my spray room and has a sink. The entrance area features a small desk, a closet where I store glazes, and a compact bathroom. I also use the basement of our home as storage for unplaced work, a photography area, and a workshop for wiring and assembling pieces.
My studio is laid out without a specific workflow in mind. Guided by conceptual ideas, the process for each of my pieces varies—some works demand slab building, others require the use of extruders, and at times I experiment with new processes that require different equipment. As a self-taught artist, I am constantly learning and revising my techniques, and I intentionally organize my space to accommodate this.
I have two guiding principles for my studio spaces. They should intentionally be uncomfortable—this is a place for work, not lounging. Second, finished work isn’t allowed to linger. If I’m surrounded by too many finished pieces, I start to question why I’m motivated to complete more.
Paying Dues (and Bills)
Previously, I worked as an art director in both advertising and tech. Despite the obvious differences in the final products of my current ceramics work, I find parallels between my past career and my current creative approach and learning process.
In advertising, my focus was on concepts—whether collaborating with illustrators, photographers, or filmmakers, the idea always drove the production. Ceramics operates similarly for me: each piece begins with a concept that influences the methods used in its creation.
My entry into advertising started as a self-taught graphic designer, leading to a learning path primarily based on trial and error. I’ve discovered that my ceramics practice follows a similar trajectory. In the basement of my home, I have my “mistake room.” It’s a room full of “failed” pieces that were mostly created in my first few years of learning ceramics. Because I knew so little in those early years, they were some of my most creative and experimental. Almost all of my current collections originated from a “mistake” I made early on. When I need inspiration, I visit my mistake room for ideas.
Running an art practice requires a diverse set of skills, and I find it helpful to view myself as two distinct personas: the Manager and the Worker.
Each morning starts with the Manager going over workload, replying to emails, sending invoices, ordering . . . managerial stuff. The last thing the Manager does is make a to-do list. Once the to-do list is set, I switch to worker mode.
Worker mode is when I get to shut off my brain and churn. This allows me to focus solely on crafting without distractions, leaving managerial worries behind. When I’m in worker mode, how the business runs isn’t my problem; that’s the Manager’s deal. Despite my workload, I try to maintain 9-to-5 hours in the studio.
Marketing
The majority of my work is custom-made based on specific projects. Pieces featured on my website or social media serve as starting points for commissions. These custom projects vary widely, from different sizes and finishes to entirely new concepts. The pieces start with a conversation, usually, I’ll 3D model an idea, and once approved I enter it into my production schedule.
I thrive on diversity and try to avoid conceptual repetition in my work. Custom commissions allow me to offer something unique to the designers I work with while also holding my interest.
Social media has been instrumental in maintaining relationships and ensuring continued exposure for my work. However, the majority of my meaningful connections have come from in-person exhibitions. Even if the pieces viewed in these settings aren’t ultimately commissioned, they provide a sense of scale and quality that is often lost when viewed solely through a screen.
When I left my desk job, I committed to expanding my online presence, and since then, I’ve seen an increase in both my follower count and sales. Instagram has been particularly successful for me. Initially, I gained traction by posting reels showcasing finished pieces, but this approach wasn’t sustainable as I couldn’t produce finished work every day. Now, I focus on posting reels that highlight my creative process in a quick-cut edit format.
Most of my sales come directly from interior designers or individuals, facilitated either through social media or through in-person interactions. Given St. Louis’ limited art and design scene, it’s crucial for me to showcase my work in person on both the East and West Coasts.
To maintain a presence on the East Coast, I participate annually in the International Contemporary Furniture Fair (ICFF) in New York. This event attracts interior designers from all over the East Coast, providing me with a valuable opportunity to introduce myself and my work. Many of my commissions over the past two years have stemmed from my presence at ICFF.
To maintain a presence on the West Coast, I work with Coup D’Etat, a showroom with locations in San Francisco and Los Angeles, known for working with top designers. They show a collection of my work year round, providing significant exposure in that market.
Mind
To stay inspired I try to look outside the ceramics and furniture-making genre. I like to look at graphic and 3D design for inspiration. Sites like Designspiration, Design Milk, and Dribble lead me to new perspectives that help me view my work differently.
Over the years, I’ve realized that the most effective way for me to generate new ideas is to immerse myself in working on my current projects. The repetitive tasks involved in building elements for my pieces create a sort of mental lull where new ideas naturally begin to develop. When they do, I jot them down in my notebook and flesh them out later in 3D.
There are times when I’m stuck in the studio. It happens. Usually, it’s because what’s in my head isn’t translating to clay. I’ve learned that the best thing I can do in this situation is wrap it up and walk away. Solutions don’t come to me when I’m exhausted. Everything is easier the next day and I set my lead times so that I have time to start and stop.
When I’m not in the studio, I’m with my family. Our two boys are young and we’re grateful to have the time to watch them grow. While the income from ceramics isn’t as consistent as my previous career, being present for my children during these formative years is much more fulfilling.
Most Valuable Lesson
The most valuable lesson I’ve learned so far is the importance of intentionally making as many mistakes as possible. Going out of your way to do the “wrong” thing just to see what happens, and then paying attention and developing those mistakes will often lead to a new foundation for all your future work and guide you to a place that feels more authentic to you.
www.helloshapiro.com
Instagram: @helloshapiro
Gallery: www.coupdetatsf.com
Unfamiliar with any terms in this article? Browse our glossary of pottery terms!
Click the cover image to return to the Table of Contents