Studio Playlist many podcasts (Kuper Island, All Songs Considered, Your Undivided Attention, The Body Electric), audiobooks (Braiding Sweetgrass, Ten Steps to Nanette), and Beyonce’s Renaissance
Wishlist running water
Studio
My studio is in a recently renovated garage beside our house on a residential street in Katarokwi/Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Set back 20 feet (6.1 m) from the sidewalk, it faces a downtown park. The open driveway in front of the studio allows me to pull tables outside if I want to work outdoors, have a pop-up sale, or teach a class. I look out my glass garage door at 100-year-old trees, children in the playground, people gathering for poetry readings or birthday parties, exercising their dogs, and, more recently, a handful of tents pitched by unhoused people, a constant reminder of the challenges many people in my community face. Working here, I feel embedded in the community. I am not a solitary person, and I value having my day broken up by chats with friends passing by and friendly nods of hello. When I need uninterrupted time, I pull a light curtain across the garage doors for privacy.
My past studio spaces could have been better organized, so I wanted to set things up right this time. I took my time designing the space, working in it for a few months to learn how it flowed before implementing my plans. The space is small (240 square feet (22.3 square meters)), so flexibility is critical. Most of my tables are on large casters so that I can move them around. I have adjustable wall-mounted shelving that I can modify to accommodate various sizes of work. A partial loft provides storage for packing materials and tools that are infrequently used. Two skylights and the commercial glass garage door offer decent natural light. It doesn’t have running water, so I keep a large jug of water on hand and have an evaporation station at the back—a wastewater bucket containing any glaze/underglaze that evaporates over time. I dump my wastewater that only has clay in it and let my glaze wastewater evaporate over time. I use reclaimed clay for my sculptural work, but the bags of scrap clay still pile up. I’d love a better reclaim system and a decent spot for wedging.
On the back wall of the studio, I’ve mounted a large-scale drawing from a past installation. I use it as a backdrop for many of my social media posts to communicate the role of drawing in my work. During the pandemic, I started drawing large-scale chalk illustrations on people’s windows to bring beauty into their lives. I drew gardens on the windows of some long-term care facilities, on the windows of an empty downtown storefront, and recently, I made a giant chalk-window mural with an elementary school grade 4/5 class. Having my large-scale print up in my studio inspires me to continue working toward my primary ambition: to create an immersive, large-scale mobile installation featuring my ceramic sculptures and drawings.
Connection—to nature and to each other—is a primary theme in my work, which is also reflected in the design of my workspace. The studio location and the large glass door that opens to the street insert artmaking into public space and daily life. Every day, I see people’s spirits lift from seeing someone working creatively, and I receive that energy in return.
Paying Dues (and Bills)
On average, I am in the studio 20 hours a week. I returned to school in September 2023 to start an online, part-time master’s degree in social work. Eventually, I will divide my time between my studio practice and work as an individual and group therapist. I work in the studio in the morning, study in the afternoon, and fit administrative tasks into small pockets of time. I build physical movement into my day wherever I can. I recently became hooked on “movement snacks,” doing 5 minutes of movement—a flow of stretches, a quick walk around the block, walking up and down a flight of stairs—multiple times a day. Two years ago, I badly broke my ankle outdoor skating on Lake Ontario, and I’ve struggled with some back pain ever since. I’ve learned from these health setbacks that I must prioritize my physical health. Exercising also clears my mind and gives me a creative lift.
Every day, I walk our dog by the river near my house. The walk is ostensibly for the dog but achieves the dual benefit of grounding me in the day and in nature. I often see things that inspire me—patterns on the river as the ice begins to thaw, plants in people’s gardens changing with the seasons—and I take photos that are the beginnings for drawings that end up on my pots. Most of my ideas come when I’m outside, in motion.
I have an academic background in oral history, community-based research, and cultural studies. In the past, I’ve worked for social justice and HIV/AIDS not-for-profits. From the first time I touched clay at the age of 18 (in a community pottery class), ceramics persisted as a side interest. Eventually, I began to sell in galleries, and in 2010, I quit my PhD to pursue a career as a full-time artist. My ceramic training has come through workshops, residencies, and the generosity of mentors. Being part of the Canadian clay collective Make and Do has connected me to peers whose expertise and friendship have been invaluable. In 2016, I participated in a FUSION mentorship program with Linda Sormin. The experience dramatically influenced my work. With Sormin as a mentor, I began drawing and experimenting with sculpture. Illustrating my pots is now a signature part of my practice and approximately half of my pieces have a sculptural component.
Marketing
I sell my work directly out of my studio, at a local not-for-profit craft fair that I help organize called Fat Goose, at galleries (Wall Space in Ottawa, The General Fine Craft in Almonte, and The Gardiner Museum Shop in Toronto), and through solo and group exhibitions. Galleries have an audience more suited to my larger functional pieces and my sculptural work. I reserve smaller pieces like mugs and plates, which involve a lot of labor yet have lower price points, for selling directly to the public. I use social media, primarily Instagram, to communicate with my audience, connect with other makers, and promote the sale of my work through my website. My social media goal is to have people feel like they benefit in some way by spending time with me. I hope they leave inspired either from learning a helpful hack, a new process, or a concept that resonates with them in some way.
Variety is crucial to my creative well-being. I used to worry that my interests were too diverse, but over time, I’ve learned to trust that activities that seem disconnected from ceramics often find their way into my work. I remember an early Pride Parade in which hostile crowds lined the street. Decked out in my finest regalia, I impulsively approached the sidelines with a giant bubble wand, encouraging people to “blow a bubble for Pride.”
Most succumbed to the childlike offer and blew a stream of large bubbles into the air, transforming the moment from adversarial to one of connection. For years, I drew those bubbles on my pots as a private reference to this moment. A lifetime of activism within the queer community has taught me to value beauty and exuberance, themes I use in my work to engage people in exploring our relationships with nature and the climate crisis.
Most Important Lesson
I recharge by being outside and by learning something new. Last year, I took an online surface design course to learn how to scale up my drawings and create large prints. I also did a micro-residency sponsored by Tri-Art, a local independent paint manufacturer. For two weeks, I worked in the window of their downtown art store, exploring how their products can be used for surface decoration on fired clay. I fell in love with the depth and luminosity that oil paint and beeswax can add to my organic sculptures, and I am now single firing my sculptural works and decorating them with oils.
The primary source of my creativity and overall replenishment is time spent outdoors. We own a small off-grid cabin in the Canadian Shield on a lake surrounded by acres of undeveloped boreal forest. Being up there, even for just 24 hours, is deeply restorative. For 25 years, I’ve ensured that at least one backcountry canoe trip is part of my summer. Living outdoors for a week, I experience moments in nature that I’d never otherwise see, and I cherish the digital detox it offers: a week without a phone, wholly separated from digital technology, is extraordinarily rare and valuable.
Most Valuable Advice
I’ve learned that expressing myself creatively in the world requires a great deal of vulnerability. I have gained valuable insights from individuals who do so from a place of self-compassion. When I have a more positive relationship with my inner critic, not only do I feel more creative, but I also have more capacity to engage with issues I am passionate about. It’s remarkable to think that such a straightforward task, like learning to be kind to ourselves, can be a lifelong pursuit.
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Just the Facts
Clay
Pottery Supply House #910 Cone 6 Porcelain
Primary forming method
slab building
Primary firing temperature
cone 6
Favorite surface treatment
drawing through wax
Favorite tools
X-Acto knife to draw through wax
Studio Playlist
many podcasts (Kuper Island, All Songs Considered, Your Undivided Attention, The Body Electric), audiobooks (Braiding Sweetgrass, Ten Steps to Nanette), and Beyonce’s Renaissance
Wishlist
running water
Studio
My studio is in a recently renovated garage beside our house on a residential street in Katarokwi/Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Set back 20 feet (6.1 m) from the sidewalk, it faces a downtown park. The open driveway in front of the studio allows me to pull tables outside if I want to work outdoors, have a pop-up sale, or teach a class. I look out my glass garage door at 100-year-old trees, children in the playground, people gathering for poetry readings or birthday parties, exercising their dogs, and, more recently, a handful of tents pitched by unhoused people, a constant reminder of the challenges many people in my community face. Working here, I feel embedded in the community. I am not a solitary person, and I value having my day broken up by chats with friends passing by and friendly nods of hello. When I need uninterrupted time, I pull a light curtain across the garage doors for privacy.
My past studio spaces could have been better organized, so I wanted to set things up right this time. I took my time designing the space, working in it for a few months to learn how it flowed before implementing my plans. The space is small (240 square feet (22.3 square meters)), so flexibility is critical. Most of my tables are on large casters so that I can move them around. I have adjustable wall-mounted shelving that I can modify to accommodate various sizes of work. A partial loft provides storage for packing materials and tools that are infrequently used. Two skylights and the commercial glass garage door offer decent natural light. It doesn’t have running water, so I keep a large jug of water on hand and have an evaporation station at the back—a wastewater bucket containing any glaze/underglaze that evaporates over time. I dump my wastewater that only has clay in it and let my glaze wastewater evaporate over time. I use reclaimed clay for my sculptural work, but the bags of scrap clay still pile up. I’d love a better reclaim system and a decent spot for wedging.
On the back wall of the studio, I’ve mounted a large-scale drawing from a past installation. I use it as a backdrop for many of my social media posts to communicate the role of drawing in my work. During the pandemic, I started drawing large-scale chalk illustrations on people’s windows to bring beauty into their lives. I drew gardens on the windows of some long-term care facilities, on the windows of an empty downtown storefront, and recently, I made a giant chalk-window mural with an elementary school grade 4/5 class. Having my large-scale print up in my studio inspires me to continue working toward my primary ambition: to create an immersive, large-scale mobile installation featuring my ceramic sculptures and drawings.
Connection—to nature and to each other—is a primary theme in my work, which is also reflected in the design of my workspace. The studio location and the large glass door that opens to the street insert artmaking into public space and daily life. Every day, I see people’s spirits lift from seeing someone working creatively, and I receive that energy in return.
Paying Dues (and Bills)
On average, I am in the studio 20 hours a week. I returned to school in September 2023 to start an online, part-time master’s degree in social work. Eventually, I will divide my time between my studio practice and work as an individual and group therapist. I work in the studio in the morning, study in the afternoon, and fit administrative tasks into small pockets of time. I build physical movement into my day wherever I can. I recently became hooked on “movement snacks,” doing 5 minutes of movement—a flow of stretches, a quick walk around the block, walking up and down a flight of stairs—multiple times a day. Two years ago, I badly broke my ankle outdoor skating on Lake Ontario, and I’ve struggled with some back pain ever since. I’ve learned from these health setbacks that I must prioritize my physical health. Exercising also clears my mind and gives me a creative lift.
Every day, I walk our dog by the river near my house. The walk is ostensibly for the dog but achieves the dual benefit of grounding me in the day and in nature. I often see things that inspire me—patterns on the river as the ice begins to thaw, plants in people’s gardens changing with the seasons—and I take photos that are the beginnings for drawings that end up on my pots. Most of my ideas come when I’m outside, in motion.
I have an academic background in oral history, community-based research, and cultural studies. In the past, I’ve worked for social justice and HIV/AIDS not-for-profits. From the first time I touched clay at the age of 18 (in a community pottery class), ceramics persisted as a side interest. Eventually, I began to sell in galleries, and in 2010, I quit my PhD to pursue a career as a full-time artist. My ceramic training has come through workshops, residencies, and the generosity of mentors. Being part of the Canadian clay collective Make and Do has connected me to peers whose expertise and friendship have been invaluable. In 2016, I participated in a FUSION mentorship program with Linda Sormin. The experience dramatically influenced my work. With Sormin as a mentor, I began drawing and experimenting with sculpture. Illustrating my pots is now a signature part of my practice and approximately half of my pieces have a sculptural component.
Marketing
I sell my work directly out of my studio, at a local not-for-profit craft fair that I help organize called Fat Goose, at galleries (Wall Space in Ottawa, The General Fine Craft in Almonte, and The Gardiner Museum Shop in Toronto), and through solo and group exhibitions. Galleries have an audience more suited to my larger functional pieces and my sculptural work. I reserve smaller pieces like mugs and plates, which involve a lot of labor yet have lower price points, for selling directly to the public. I use social media, primarily Instagram, to communicate with my audience, connect with other makers, and promote the sale of my work through my website. My social media goal is to have people feel like they benefit in some way by spending time with me. I hope they leave inspired either from learning a helpful hack, a new process, or a concept that resonates with them in some way.
Variety is crucial to my creative well-being. I used to worry that my interests were too diverse, but over time, I’ve learned to trust that activities that seem disconnected from ceramics often find their way into my work. I remember an early Pride Parade in which hostile crowds lined the street. Decked out in my finest regalia, I impulsively approached the sidelines with a giant bubble wand, encouraging people to “blow a bubble for Pride.”
Most succumbed to the childlike offer and blew a stream of large bubbles into the air, transforming the moment from adversarial to one of connection. For years, I drew those bubbles on my pots as a private reference to this moment. A lifetime of activism within the queer community has taught me to value beauty and exuberance, themes I use in my work to engage people in exploring our relationships with nature and the climate crisis.
Most Important Lesson
I recharge by being outside and by learning something new. Last year, I took an online surface design course to learn how to scale up my drawings and create large prints. I also did a micro-residency sponsored by Tri-Art, a local independent paint manufacturer. For two weeks, I worked in the window of their downtown art store, exploring how their products can be used for surface decoration on fired clay. I fell in love with the depth and luminosity that oil paint and beeswax can add to my organic sculptures, and I am now single firing my sculptural works and decorating them with oils.
The primary source of my creativity and overall replenishment is time spent outdoors. We own a small off-grid cabin in the Canadian Shield on a lake surrounded by acres of undeveloped boreal forest. Being up there, even for just 24 hours, is deeply restorative. For 25 years, I’ve ensured that at least one backcountry canoe trip is part of my summer. Living outdoors for a week, I experience moments in nature that I’d never otherwise see, and I cherish the digital detox it offers: a week without a phone, wholly separated from digital technology, is extraordinarily rare and valuable.
Most Valuable Advice
I’ve learned that expressing myself creatively in the world requires a great deal of vulnerability. I have gained valuable insights from individuals who do so from a place of self-compassion. When I have a more positive relationship with my inner critic, not only do I feel more creative, but I also have more capacity to engage with issues I am passionate about. It’s remarkable to think that such a straightforward task, like learning to be kind to ourselves, can be a lifelong pursuit.
www.marneymcdiarmid.com
Instagram: @marneymcdiarmid
Photos: Rob Whelan.
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