The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
From the age of 5 to 19, I went to a school where the practice of crafts was just as important as mathematics, science, or any other academic subject. We learned to knit before learning how to add and subtract, and we dug clay from our school’s
grounds to fire alongside bread we baked in big wood ovens outside. I wasn’t particularly good at anything save for drawing and pottery, and I wasn’t enthused by either until, finally, a teacher of mine told me at face value, after watching
me throw, “You’re quite good at that!”
Finding a Passion and Obsession
One sentence became life-changing, and after hearing those words, I more or less spent as much time as I possibly could in the school’s pottery. I learned from my teacher, and I also scoured the web for videos that might help. My friends would be
outside playing football, and I’d be in the studio during my lunch breaks, practicing how to spiral wedge clay and throw pots repetitively. I could see it as a profession I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing; I was 16 years old.
I was obsessed with making functional pottery and found a marvelous course in Ireland that focused on teaching exactly that: The Design and Craft Council Ireland’s Ceramics Skills and Design Training Course. It taught budding potters how to be studio
ceramic artists and our skills were pushed in ways I never imagined they might be.
After graduating, I was lucky enough to land an apprenticeship with Lisa Hammond MBE, back in London, UK, my hometown. I was eager to learn more and was thrown into the deep end at a cramped, bustling pottery, with pots lining each surface, shelf, and
cubby in the entire studio. It’s here that I began posting online, just photographs at the outset, which has now led to editing videos that are sometimes close to an hour long, that explain in perhaps excruciating detail how I make pots. Like
a snowball, my following gradually grew and now it includes some 3 million people across various social-media platforms, a number I never imagined I’d reach in the slightest. I only started posting initially to show my family and friends what
I was up to at Hammond’s studio, and I never intended it to become the main front for my business and means of selling.
A Day in the Life
I tend to work in making cycles that last a few months, meaning I produce pots for 2–3 months before spending usually a month glazing, firing, and organizing an online shop update.
I take the London Underground to my studio in High Barnet, aiming to arrive by approximately 8:30–9:00am. When firing my gas kiln, I leave home at 6am.
If making, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are spent throwing pots all day, and the work is stored away when leather hard to be trimmed on Thursday and Friday. By working this way, I feel like I’m not constantly switching between wet and
dry work, although some overlap inevitably happens.
As I work, my camera, tripod, and spotlight are constantly set up so that I can easily film and photograph my process for Instagram and YouTube videos. This easily takes up an hour a day.
12pm is when I take lunch, and it’s wolfed down—a habit I still haven’t been able to shake off from my time in Japan. I’m very bad at taking breaks. If my dog, Ciro, is with me, then I’ll walk him for an hour.
I’ll then work until about 4–5pm, which is when I commute home. This is often later if the tasks at hand require more time, firing for instance, or wrapping up pots for shipping.
From 6–8pm (often later) is spent editing photographs and film for my social-media accounts. I post every single day, and have done so since 2012. Every other day, I post a shorter video, and every Sunday I post a much longer, narrated film.
From 9pm onward I try to switch off. I put my phone away and ignore my emails, yet this isn’t always possible, as with 3-million-plus followers across numerous platforms, the incoming stream is endless.
Developing Knowledge and Understanding
Having the chance to see how the guts of a pottery work before setting up my own studio was invaluable experience, and Hammond really puts so much of her trust in her apprentices. We’re the oil that help keep the whole machine running smoothly as
Hammond pushes our skill and hands over responsibility bit by bit until we’re ready to leave the nest. I might have been able to set up my own pottery after graduating, but after apprenticing for three years with her, I felt unstoppable. After
seeing Hammond forge her way in the world, I felt I knew how to run a workshop, how to teach classes, and how to run my own business—she even somehow found the time to set up Clay College during my final year, which meant leaving me to man the
fort while she traveled around the country amassing funds and making connections in order to establish a school in Stoke-on-Trent dedicated to teaching pottery. As we worked side by side, Hammond would constantly tell me stories of Japan, about her
friends and time spent traveling there. She suggested I spend time with Ken Matsuzaki in a visiting apprenticeship, which she helped to arrange and which Matsuzaki’s charity, Mashiko Potters International Association (MPIA), helped fund.
My time there was very different. When I first started with Hammond, I remember thinking how strenuous it was, how there was easily work enough for two or even three apprentices. Then, after a handful of weeks in Mashiko spent sweeping leaves for
hours every morning; harvesting our own iron-ocher-rich stoneware clay and processing it to dust; and grinding what felt like hundreds of oribe plates, their bases sodden and stuck to the kiln shelves, I thought the exact same about this new workload
I was exposed to. Matsuzaki could have a whole team working for him, but he prefers to work hard and work his apprentices even harder. Matsuzaki is industrious. A prolific maker and expert of so many techniques, it was a privilege to watch him
work, even with my very limited understanding of Japanese. We mostly communicated through applications on our phones that translated our voices. I adore Japanese ceramics, but I don’t want to make it myself, and I ended up creating my own
shapes but with Japanese clothes—layers of slip, iron oxide, and numerous shino and oribe glazes. I was finally able to put faces to names, and the world of Japanese ceramics that had seemed so other-worldly slowly became my new routine.
I can’t say my work mimics either Hammond’s or Matsuzaki’s, yet I’m sure there are minute snippets of Hammond’s soda-fired house range that can be found in my work and I try each day to imitate Matsuzaki’s diligence
and sheer love for the craft. The love of handmade objects and craft in Japan is something truly special, and I don’t think we’ll ever get to a point here in Britain where we have the same level of appreciation. As much as I wish we
would, our culture hasn’t grown up enough yet.
Setting Up a Pottery
I only had one aim after moving back to London, and that was to set up a pottery studio of my own, finally, after six years of learning how to make ceramics. I searched for almost two years as London is not a welcoming city for potters, let alone
those who wish to fire with gas kilns. East London, where the arts and small businesses flourish most has become gentrified and costly, and eventually I found a workshop in High Barnet, where I still am today. It’s quiet, cheaper, and almost
on the outskirts of the city, but at least I found something. I don’t sell pots here, rather it’s my workplace. All my work is sold via my own online website and through a number of galleries.
Supply and demand is my largest issue nowadays, that and trying to maintain a healthy work-life balance. I’m but one person creating pots for an audience of millions, and I’ll never be able to create enough work to suffice. I’ve
had the opportunity to scale up, to hire staff, to move into a larger workspace, and to purchase more kilns and wheels, but I don’t want to. I like working by myself and following my own schedule, especially after years of having to timetable
firings in the busy potteries I’ve worked in. My modus operandi means I’m flexible. I never commit to creating large orders and try my best to work in such a way that I can make whatever I feel like from day to day, even if that does
end up being pots I’ve made tens of thousands of before, like bowls and mugs.
Selling pottery online has become the norm for so many potters here in the UK and abroad. It’s certainly not how I ever imagined I’d do it, but it works; although the same time you might spend driving to pottery fairs and setting up is
spent taking photographs and videos and building up an audience online. It’s a second job, and keeping up with all the emails and messages, together with keeping the actual content itself flowing, can quickly eat away the hours. Yet for
me, it has led to having a global audience—potters and new friends—from countries on the other side of the planet, and it means I have control over how my work is sold. I don’t risk poor footfall at an event or my pots being
kept in the galleries’ storerooms for weeks on end. Selling online works, if you can spin a tale and create an audience. Yet selling and showing in the physical world is just as rewarding, if not more so; hence why I try to have a few exhibitions
a year, to meet and see people and to see my work in a space that isn’t my studio, which can be a breath of fresh air.
My advice for those starting these days is simple. Focus on your own skills first and keep social media second. Your own expertise will last your lifetime, whereas the online world may not.
Career Snapshot
Years as a professional potter 5
Number of pots made in a year 1500+ (although during my apprenticeship years, this would have been higher)
Education 13 years at a Waldorf Steiner School The DCCI Ceramics Skills and Design Training Course (2012–2014) 3-year apprenticeship with Lisa Hammond MBE (2014–2017) 6-month visiting apprenticeship
with Ken Matsuzaki in Mashiko, Japan
The time it takes (percentages) Making work (including firing): 40% Promotions/Selling: 40% Office/Bookkeeping: 20%
Favorite Tool Philip Poburka’s 1¼-inch-wide Hook Tool “7 Shape” with 90°-angle tip
Favorite technique Handle pulling
Where it Goes Retail Stores: 0% Galleries: 12% Craft/Art Fairs: 0% Studio/Home Sales: 1% Online: 87%
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
From the age of 5 to 19, I went to a school where the practice of crafts was just as important as mathematics, science, or any other academic subject. We learned to knit before learning how to add and subtract, and we dug clay from our school’s grounds to fire alongside bread we baked in big wood ovens outside. I wasn’t particularly good at anything save for drawing and pottery, and I wasn’t enthused by either until, finally, a teacher of mine told me at face value, after watching me throw, “You’re quite good at that!”
Finding a Passion and Obsession
One sentence became life-changing, and after hearing those words, I more or less spent as much time as I possibly could in the school’s pottery. I learned from my teacher, and I also scoured the web for videos that might help. My friends would be outside playing football, and I’d be in the studio during my lunch breaks, practicing how to spiral wedge clay and throw pots repetitively. I could see it as a profession I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing; I was 16 years old.
I was obsessed with making functional pottery and found a marvelous course in Ireland that focused on teaching exactly that: The Design and Craft Council Ireland’s Ceramics Skills and Design Training Course. It taught budding potters how to be studio ceramic artists and our skills were pushed in ways I never imagined they might be.
After graduating, I was lucky enough to land an apprenticeship with Lisa Hammond MBE, back in London, UK, my hometown. I was eager to learn more and was thrown into the deep end at a cramped, bustling pottery, with pots lining each surface, shelf, and cubby in the entire studio. It’s here that I began posting online, just photographs at the outset, which has now led to editing videos that are sometimes close to an hour long, that explain in perhaps excruciating detail how I make pots. Like a snowball, my following gradually grew and now it includes some 3 million people across various social-media platforms, a number I never imagined I’d reach in the slightest. I only started posting initially to show my family and friends what I was up to at Hammond’s studio, and I never intended it to become the main front for my business and means of selling.
A Day in the Life
I tend to work in making cycles that last a few months, meaning I produce pots for 2–3 months before spending usually a month glazing, firing, and organizing an online shop update.
I take the London Underground to my studio in High Barnet, aiming to arrive by approximately 8:30–9:00am. When firing my gas kiln, I leave home at 6am.
If making, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are spent throwing pots all day, and the work is stored away when leather hard to be trimmed on Thursday and Friday. By working this way, I feel like I’m not constantly switching between wet and dry work, although some overlap inevitably happens.
As I work, my camera, tripod, and spotlight are constantly set up so that I can easily film and photograph my process for Instagram and YouTube videos. This easily takes up an hour a day.
12pm is when I take lunch, and it’s wolfed down—a habit I still haven’t been able to shake off from my time in Japan. I’m very bad at taking breaks. If my dog, Ciro, is with me, then I’ll walk him for an hour.
I’ll then work until about 4–5pm, which is when I commute home. This is often later if the tasks at hand require more time, firing for instance, or wrapping up pots for shipping.
From 6–8pm (often later) is spent editing photographs and film for my social-media accounts. I post every single day, and have done so since 2012. Every other day, I post a shorter video, and every Sunday I post a much longer, narrated film.
From 9pm onward I try to switch off. I put my phone away and ignore my emails, yet this isn’t always possible, as with 3-million-plus followers across numerous platforms, the incoming stream is endless.
Developing Knowledge and Understanding
Having the chance to see how the guts of a pottery work before setting up my own studio was invaluable experience, and Hammond really puts so much of her trust in her apprentices. We’re the oil that help keep the whole machine running smoothly as Hammond pushes our skill and hands over responsibility bit by bit until we’re ready to leave the nest. I might have been able to set up my own pottery after graduating, but after apprenticing for three years with her, I felt unstoppable. After seeing Hammond forge her way in the world, I felt I knew how to run a workshop, how to teach classes, and how to run my own business—she even somehow found the time to set up Clay College during my final year, which meant leaving me to man the fort while she traveled around the country amassing funds and making connections in order to establish a school in Stoke-on-Trent dedicated to teaching pottery. As we worked side by side, Hammond would constantly tell me stories of Japan, about her friends and time spent traveling there. She suggested I spend time with Ken Matsuzaki in a visiting apprenticeship, which she helped to arrange and which Matsuzaki’s charity, Mashiko Potters International Association (MPIA), helped fund.
My time there was very different. When I first started with Hammond, I remember thinking how strenuous it was, how there was easily work enough for two or even three apprentices. Then, after a handful of weeks in Mashiko spent sweeping leaves for hours every morning; harvesting our own iron-ocher-rich stoneware clay and processing it to dust; and grinding what felt like hundreds of oribe plates, their bases sodden and stuck to the kiln shelves, I thought the exact same about this new workload I was exposed to. Matsuzaki could have a whole team working for him, but he prefers to work hard and work his apprentices even harder. Matsuzaki is industrious. A prolific maker and expert of so many techniques, it was a privilege to watch him work, even with my very limited understanding of Japanese. We mostly communicated through applications on our phones that translated our voices. I adore Japanese ceramics, but I don’t want to make it myself, and I ended up creating my own shapes but with Japanese clothes—layers of slip, iron oxide, and numerous shino and oribe glazes. I was finally able to put faces to names, and the world of Japanese ceramics that had seemed so other-worldly slowly became my new routine.
I can’t say my work mimics either Hammond’s or Matsuzaki’s, yet I’m sure there are minute snippets of Hammond’s soda-fired house range that can be found in my work and I try each day to imitate Matsuzaki’s diligence and sheer love for the craft. The love of handmade objects and craft in Japan is something truly special, and I don’t think we’ll ever get to a point here in Britain where we have the same level of appreciation. As much as I wish we would, our culture hasn’t grown up enough yet.
Setting Up a Pottery
I only had one aim after moving back to London, and that was to set up a pottery studio of my own, finally, after six years of learning how to make ceramics. I searched for almost two years as London is not a welcoming city for potters, let alone those who wish to fire with gas kilns. East London, where the arts and small businesses flourish most has become gentrified and costly, and eventually I found a workshop in High Barnet, where I still am today. It’s quiet, cheaper, and almost on the outskirts of the city, but at least I found something. I don’t sell pots here, rather it’s my workplace. All my work is sold via my own online website and through a number of galleries.
Supply and demand is my largest issue nowadays, that and trying to maintain a healthy work-life balance. I’m but one person creating pots for an audience of millions, and I’ll never be able to create enough work to suffice. I’ve had the opportunity to scale up, to hire staff, to move into a larger workspace, and to purchase more kilns and wheels, but I don’t want to. I like working by myself and following my own schedule, especially after years of having to timetable firings in the busy potteries I’ve worked in. My modus operandi means I’m flexible. I never commit to creating large orders and try my best to work in such a way that I can make whatever I feel like from day to day, even if that does end up being pots I’ve made tens of thousands of before, like bowls and mugs.
Selling pottery online has become the norm for so many potters here in the UK and abroad. It’s certainly not how I ever imagined I’d do it, but it works; although the same time you might spend driving to pottery fairs and setting up is spent taking photographs and videos and building up an audience online. It’s a second job, and keeping up with all the emails and messages, together with keeping the actual content itself flowing, can quickly eat away the hours. Yet for me, it has led to having a global audience—potters and new friends—from countries on the other side of the planet, and it means I have control over how my work is sold. I don’t risk poor footfall at an event or my pots being kept in the galleries’ storerooms for weeks on end. Selling online works, if you can spin a tale and create an audience. Yet selling and showing in the physical world is just as rewarding, if not more so; hence why I try to have a few exhibitions a year, to meet and see people and to see my work in a space that isn’t my studio, which can be a breath of fresh air.
My advice for those starting these days is simple. Focus on your own skills first and keep social media second. Your own expertise will last your lifetime, whereas the online world may not.
Career Snapshot
Years as a professional potter
5
Number of pots made in a year
1500+ (although during my apprenticeship years, this would have been higher)
Education
13 years at a Waldorf Steiner School
The DCCI Ceramics Skills and Design Training Course (2012–2014)
3-year apprenticeship with Lisa Hammond MBE (2014–2017)
6-month visiting apprenticeship with Ken Matsuzaki in Mashiko, Japan
The time it takes (percentages)
Making work (including firing): 40%
Promotions/Selling: 40%
Office/Bookkeeping: 20%
Favorite Tool
Philip Poburka’s 1¼-inch-wide Hook Tool “7 Shape” with 90°-angle tip
Favorite technique
Handle pulling
Where it Goes
Retail Stores: 0%
Galleries: 12%
Craft/Art Fairs: 0%
Studio/Home Sales: 1%
Online: 87%
Learn More
www.floriangadsby.com
Instagram: @floriangadsby
www.youtube.com/floriangadsbyceramics
TikTok: @floriangadsby
Unfamiliar with any terms in this article? Browse our glossary of pottery terms!
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