The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
1 Ani Kasten working in her studio on the lower level of her renovated barn. Photo: Rana Monet.Growing
up in a family with two artisan parents, my sister and I were raised without television and were encouraged to pursue creative activities starting at a young age. I was brought up with a strong ethos in our daily lives enriched by objects made by
hand. My father made textiles and our home was filled with handmade rugs, drapery fabric, and upholstery fabric. My mother grew our food and was a masterful gardener and cook. They both collected and valued art. Throughout my schooling, I became interested
in writing and wanted to pursue a liberal arts degree in college, always with my desire to work in visual arts on the back burner. I feel to this day that my time studying literature and writing is very useful to me in the life I have made working
in clay—being able to communicate and write proficiently has many important applications for a working potter, from crafting artist statements to applying for grants to writing articles, I use my English degree almost daily.
A Clay Introduction
After college, I began an apprenticeship in studio ceramics with a potter in the UK named Rupert Spira. My love of working with clay came about randomly and as a bit of a surprise. The apprenticeship was very traditional and located on a old sheep farm
in the countryside of the West Midlands, near the Welsh border. My days began at 8 in the morning and included three hours with which to practice wheel-throwing, and working on my own pieces. The rest of the day was packed with studio tasks like pugging
clay, mixing glazes, testing glazes with line and triaxial blends, firing the reduction gas kilns, weighing out clay balls, and stoking the wood stove in my teacher’s studio, as well as packing his work for shipping. As soon as I began the apprenticeship,
I knew clay was going to be my chosen path for the rest of my life.
The apprenticeship was a hit-the-ground-running crash course on making a living as a professional potter. Every day we worked from 8–5, and I learned all the essential tasks for operating a professional ceramics studio and most importantly,
was exposed to the nuts and bolts of running a ceramics business, not just the fun parts of having my hands in clay. My teacher provided independence but was also strict when it came to principles of form and surface. The most important teaching he
gave me was after he asked me if I was serious about pursuing a career in ceramics. I told him I was determined to become a professional potter. He said, “Well, here is what you must do: you must go to the studio every day, make as much work
as you can, and sell it.” One cannot wait around for inspiration to strike, or keep a casual schedule, fitting in some studio time when one feels like it. It must be approached doggedly, like any other job. And that is how I have regimented
my studio practice for the past 24 years.
2 Kurinuki Lidded Box, 7 in. (17.8 cm) in length, dark stoneware, porcelain, slips, glazes, 2024.3 Mauve Amphora, 12 in. (30.5 cm) in height, dark stoneware, porcelain, slips, glazes, 2025.
Connection Through Clay
Over the past two decades, my full-time-job approach to my ceramics has managed to carry me through some lean times, and ceramics has overall been a job that I could rely on to sustain me and my family. I have also been keenly aware that it is an occupation
for those with an overactive sense of self-reliance. It is a constant hustle, a one-woman band, full of financial anxieties, late-night torments of self-doubt, and having to forge ahead even when consumed by doubt. It is also a basis for community
that has buoyed me along the way. Ceramics is an art form practiced by all cultures around the world, and I spent a good part of my early years as a potter traveling around Asia and spending time with communities of potters in Nepal, India, Japan,
and Korea. From 2001–2006 I lived in Kathmandu, Nepal, and worked in a village called Thimi, which is home to about 10,000 potters.
While there, I received two grants for a project with Thimi Ceramics, a workshop owned by two brothers, Santa Kumar and Laxmi Kumar Prajapati, in the heart of Thimi. The ceramics industry in Nepal was struggling due to an influx of plastic and metal goods
coming from China. The lapse in demand for pottery goods was crushing the generational potters’ livelihood, and the grants we received supported the development of local stoneware clay and glazes and mid-temperature firings to workshops
in the village. Over the course of four years, we worked with area potters and made stoneware clay and glazes from local materials, built two brick oil-fired kilns, designed a collection of modern dinnerware for local restaurants and hotels, and created
a website to sell the work worldwide. My time in England and Nepal, and my travels to other parts of Asia have revealed the strong and wonderful ways that clay connects us all, even between cultures.
4 High-vaulted ceilings open up the space in Kasten’s gallery and showroom on the upper level of the barn.
Creating a Home Studio
After leaving Nepal, I made my home and studio for a short time in Oakland, California, and then moved to Mount Rainier, Maryland. It was important to me to settle in a community with a strong arts presence. Mount Rainier was home to Margaret Boozer,
who soon became another important art mentor to me during a three-year residency at Red Dirt Studio.
I purchased a derelict property that was formerly an old shoe repair shop and spent a year doing the renovations to make it habitable, many of the upgrades done myself or with friends. This was a key part of my career plan: if artists can own real estate,
they cannot be priced out of their neighborhood. The shoe repair shop became my studio, Art Bar, which also housed a small studio for renting out to another artist, and a gallery space with storefront windows to show my work along with artwork from
other artists in the community. I lived with my husband in the apartment above the studio, and went to work downstairs daily, and hosted events and gatherings on the weekends. The small studio I rented to my studio assistant, a young potter who helped
me with my studio work two days a week.
5 An exterior staircase leads tour-goers and patrons to the gallery and showroom in the barn.6 Angel Wing Candle Sticks, up to 8 in. (20.3 cm) in height, dark stoneware, porcelain, slips, glazes, nichrome wire, 2025.
A Day in the Life
MORNING
7:00 Wake up take Dominic, my dog, out, let out the chickens, and feed all the animals. 8:00 Drink coffee, tidy up the house, watch the news, and make an Instagram post. 9:00 Walk with Dominic through the woods and prairie, sometimes
with my pottery cohort Connee Mayeron, who lives next door. 10:00 Begin studio time, tasks vary depending on what I am working on. Sometimes wheel throwing, sometimes handbuilding, and sometimes glazing.
AFTERNOON
1:00 Go inside for lunch, check on the garden, and walk Dominic. 2:00 Studio afternoons begin with more forming of pieces or glazing, or sometimes photographing work. 5:00 Finish up studio work, take Dominic out, collect eggs from
the chickens, and pick vegetables for dinner.
EVENING
6:00 Make a cocktail and cook dinner. 7:00 Have dinner with my husband and housemate. 8:00 Watch TV with my husband. 10:00 Take Dominic out before bed, take a hot bath, and go to sleep.
7 Fan Bowl; 12 in. (30.5 cm) in width, dark stoneware, porcelain, slips, glazes, 2024.
Selling Work
My approach to selling my work has always been a “say yes to everything” policy that has kept me very busy. “Making a lot of work and selling it,” as my teacher had instructed me, turned me into a sort of octopus, with eight arms
in different tasks at once. I have said yes to a great many things, and divided my time between working in the studio, going to craft shows, shipping and traveling to galleries, meeting with interior designers, making custom work for commissions,
and teaching workshops. I have done a few projects on a more industrial scale, such as making a collection of objects for Seth Rogen’s company Houseplant, and creating large-scale totems for the VIP Lounge at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino at
National Harbor.
I have kept extremely busy for many years, and all of this was made possible in part by having a series of wonderful studio assistants. For a short period, I struggled with some repetitive strain injuries from working too much, and since have hired assistants
to help me keep my studio running at full steam. They assist with all manner of studio tasks like making glazes, recycling clay, packing work for shipping, and helping with my smaller production works. Having a good assistant makes me more productive
and allows me to take care of my body. For a young person starting out in the field of ceramics, an assistant job is an ideal place to get first-hand knowledge of the ins and outs of a professional ceramics studio.
The form my work has taken has always been somewhat dictated by what sells. My training was in studio pottery, but I quickly became bored with the idea of production pottery. I have always loved the idea of making something different every day, and I
have forged that into my unique voice in ceramics. My sculptural vessel work, which began with mostly wheel-thrown forms transitioned to a more comfortable way of working, including kurinuki forms and combining handbuilding and throwing techniques,
which developed into my signature language.
Career Snapshot
YEARS AS A PROFESSIONAL POTTER 24
NUMBER OF POTS MADE IN A YEAR 500–1000
EDUCATION Bachelor of Arts/English Literature, University of Michigan One-year apprenticeship in studio ceramics with UK potter Rupert Spira
THE TIME IT TAKES (PERCENTAGES) Making work: 60% Promotion/selling: 25% Office/bookkeeping: 15%
FAVORITE TOOL Sherrill Mudtools blue rib
PROCESS I love combining throwing and handbuilding: throwing and handbuilding components and then assembling them into a thrown and altered form.
WHERE IT GOES Retail Stores: 5% Galleries: 40% Craft/Art Fairs: 30% Studio/Home Sales: 10% Online: 5% Other/Commissions/Interior Designers: 10%
8 Black and White Trough, 26 in. (66 cm) in width, dark stoneware, porcelain, slips, glazes, 2024.
Business and Community
My relationship with functional versus sculptural ceramics has always been a bit of a balancing act. In 2012, I was invited for the first time to be a guest on the St. Croix Pottery Tour in eastern Minnesota by then-host Connee Mayeron. I had a wonderful
time being part of this tour, and it introduced me to a whole new community of studio potters. In 2016, after several years as a guest artist, Mayeron invited me to take over as one of the tour hosts. This was a leap of faith, as it involved moving
away from the DC area, which had been my home, community hub, and professional center for the past ten years. The audience for my sculptural vessels and artwork was largely coastal, so there was risk involved in uprooting to the Midwest, to a community
centered around functional pottery and country living. The community was wonderful however, and my quest to make something different each day in my studio required a move to someplace with a lower cost of living and space to grow.
I created a studio on the lower level of a beautiful old barn on our land in Shafer, Minnesota, which is divided into thirds by beams for old livestock stalls. One third of the space houses my throwing area with two wheels, lots of shelving, clay storage,
a wedging table, a glaze area with a sink at the front of the studio, and a glass double door at the back where I watch wild turkeys forage while I work. The middle space has two large work tables and the final third of my studio houses three electric
kilns, my woodshop, and a packing and shipping area. Upstairs in the hayloft is a gallery space, shared with Mayeron, complete with whitewashed boards and floor, track lighting, and wood pedestals which is open by appointment year round, and houses
the tour and our fall studio sale.
Over the years, my forms have departed from the functional studio pottery of my beginnings, but have maintained a thread of vessel work throughout. My heart very much desires the in-depth labored projects of the more sculptural pieces, but my livelihood
is also sustained by the functional work that I sell at the tour, online, and to a few retail shops. Minnesota life is steeped in the beauty of handmade objects for everyday use, and my practice continues to be informed by that.
9 Tents filled with the work of Kasten and guest artists line the yard during the annual St. Croix Pottery Tour.10 Pedestal Bowl with Asymmetrical Handles, 10 in. (25.4 cm) in height, 2024.
Though my life is quieter here, living on a rural homestead after leaving the urban setting of the mid-Atlantic, the studio is always abustle. Since the pandemic, Instagram has become a critical marketing tool for my work, and I spend some time most mornings
creating content and honing my photography skills. From my daily posts, I have grown an enthusiastic audience and wonderful collaborative opportunities have come my way. My reliance on craft shows has been a constant, despite uncertain attendance
numbers, an aging clientele, and doubts about the future sustainability of craft shows post-pandemic. However, they have continued to serve a vital role connecting me to an audience, not just collectors but also galleries and museum curators. Craft
shows, gallery shows, home studio sales, local sales with friends and neighbors, and commissions with interior designers and other clients keep my income streams diverse and healthy. Another mentor of mine, Margaret Boozer, gave me sage advice about
always following up. Few of us have the luxury of waiting for opportunities to fall into our laps, so I make a habit of reaching out for things and then always following up once or twice to make sure my missive was received.
So I return to the octopus metaphor, and have arms in many things all at the same time: studio work, sculptural pieces, functional work, administrative tasks, traveling for shows, giving talks and workshops, and then I have my life to attend to. My husband,
dog, cats, and flock of birds await me at home along with our vegetable garden and fruit orchard. This life is busy and all-consuming, and my work bleeds into every corner of it. It is not for everyone, but it is my own, and when I decided to make
my living from my work in clay, this was at the heart of it. Building in time to be a support to my community is crucial as well. For younger potters thinking of pursuing clay as a career, I would give them the same advice as I was given by my teacher:
go to the studio every day, make as much work as you can, and sell it. What sounds simple is not necessarily easy, but with enough diligence you can make it work.
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
A Clay Introduction
After college, I began an apprenticeship in studio ceramics with a potter in the UK named Rupert Spira. My love of working with clay came about randomly and as a bit of a surprise. The apprenticeship was very traditional and located on a old sheep farm in the countryside of the West Midlands, near the Welsh border. My days began at 8 in the morning and included three hours with which to practice wheel-throwing, and working on my own pieces. The rest of the day was packed with studio tasks like pugging clay, mixing glazes, testing glazes with line and triaxial blends, firing the reduction gas kilns, weighing out clay balls, and stoking the wood stove in my teacher’s studio, as well as packing his work for shipping. As soon as I began the apprenticeship, I knew clay was going to be my chosen path for the rest of my life.
The apprenticeship was a hit-the-ground-running crash course on making a living as a professional potter. Every day we worked from 8–5, and I learned all the essential tasks for operating a professional ceramics studio and most importantly, was exposed to the nuts and bolts of running a ceramics business, not just the fun parts of having my hands in clay. My teacher provided independence but was also strict when it came to principles of form and surface. The most important teaching he gave me was after he asked me if I was serious about pursuing a career in ceramics. I told him I was determined to become a professional potter. He said, “Well, here is what you must do: you must go to the studio every day, make as much work as you can, and sell it.” One cannot wait around for inspiration to strike, or keep a casual schedule, fitting in some studio time when one feels like it. It must be approached doggedly, like any other job. And that is how I have regimented my studio practice for the past 24 years.
Connection Through Clay
Over the past two decades, my full-time-job approach to my ceramics has managed to carry me through some lean times, and ceramics has overall been a job that I could rely on to sustain me and my family. I have also been keenly aware that it is an occupation for those with an overactive sense of self-reliance. It is a constant hustle, a one-woman band, full of financial anxieties, late-night torments of self-doubt, and having to forge ahead even when consumed by doubt. It is also a basis for community that has buoyed me along the way. Ceramics is an art form practiced by all cultures around the world, and I spent a good part of my early years as a potter traveling around Asia and spending time with communities of potters in Nepal, India, Japan, and Korea. From 2001–2006 I lived in Kathmandu, Nepal, and worked in a village called Thimi, which is home to about 10,000 potters.
While there, I received two grants for a project with Thimi Ceramics, a workshop owned by two brothers, Santa Kumar and Laxmi Kumar Prajapati, in the heart of Thimi. The ceramics industry in Nepal was struggling due to an influx of plastic and metal goods coming from China. The lapse in demand for pottery goods was crushing the generational potters’ livelihood, and the grants we received supported the development of local stoneware clay and glazes and mid-temperature firings to workshops in the village. Over the course of four years, we worked with area potters and made stoneware clay and glazes from local materials, built two brick oil-fired kilns, designed a collection of modern dinnerware for local restaurants and hotels, and created a website to sell the work worldwide. My time in England and Nepal, and my travels to other parts of Asia have revealed the strong and wonderful ways that clay connects us all, even between cultures.
Creating a Home Studio
After leaving Nepal, I made my home and studio for a short time in Oakland, California, and then moved to Mount Rainier, Maryland. It was important to me to settle in a community with a strong arts presence. Mount Rainier was home to Margaret Boozer, who soon became another important art mentor to me during a three-year residency at Red Dirt Studio.
I purchased a derelict property that was formerly an old shoe repair shop and spent a year doing the renovations to make it habitable, many of the upgrades done myself or with friends. This was a key part of my career plan: if artists can own real estate, they cannot be priced out of their neighborhood. The shoe repair shop became my studio, Art Bar, which also housed a small studio for renting out to another artist, and a gallery space with storefront windows to show my work along with artwork from other artists in the community. I lived with my husband in the apartment above the studio, and went to work downstairs daily, and hosted events and gatherings on the weekends. The small studio I rented to my studio assistant, a young potter who helped me with my studio work two days a week.
A Day in the Life
MORNING
7:00 Wake up take Dominic, my dog, out, let out the chickens, and feed all the animals.
8:00 Drink coffee, tidy up the house, watch the news, and make an Instagram post.
9:00 Walk with Dominic through the woods and prairie, sometimes with my pottery cohort Connee Mayeron, who lives next door.
10:00 Begin studio time, tasks vary depending on what I am working on. Sometimes wheel throwing, sometimes handbuilding, and sometimes glazing.
AFTERNOON
1:00 Go inside for lunch, check on the garden, and walk Dominic.
2:00 Studio afternoons begin with more forming of pieces or glazing, or sometimes photographing work.
5:00 Finish up studio work, take Dominic out, collect eggs from the chickens, and pick vegetables for dinner.
EVENING
6:00 Make a cocktail and cook dinner.
7:00 Have dinner with my husband and housemate.
8:00 Watch TV with my husband.
10:00 Take Dominic out before bed, take a hot bath, and go to sleep.
Selling Work
My approach to selling my work has always been a “say yes to everything” policy that has kept me very busy. “Making a lot of work and selling it,” as my teacher had instructed me, turned me into a sort of octopus, with eight arms in different tasks at once. I have said yes to a great many things, and divided my time between working in the studio, going to craft shows, shipping and traveling to galleries, meeting with interior designers, making custom work for commissions, and teaching workshops. I have done a few projects on a more industrial scale, such as making a collection of objects for Seth Rogen’s company Houseplant, and creating large-scale totems for the VIP Lounge at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino at National Harbor.
I have kept extremely busy for many years, and all of this was made possible in part by having a series of wonderful studio assistants. For a short period, I struggled with some repetitive strain injuries from working too much, and since have hired assistants to help me keep my studio running at full steam. They assist with all manner of studio tasks like making glazes, recycling clay, packing work for shipping, and helping with my smaller production works. Having a good assistant makes me more productive and allows me to take care of my body. For a young person starting out in the field of ceramics, an assistant job is an ideal place to get first-hand knowledge of the ins and outs of a professional ceramics studio.
The form my work has taken has always been somewhat dictated by what sells. My training was in studio pottery, but I quickly became bored with the idea of production pottery. I have always loved the idea of making something different every day, and I have forged that into my unique voice in ceramics. My sculptural vessel work, which began with mostly wheel-thrown forms transitioned to a more comfortable way of working, including kurinuki forms and combining handbuilding and throwing techniques, which developed into my signature language.
Career Snapshot
YEARS AS A PROFESSIONAL POTTER
24
NUMBER OF POTS MADE IN A YEAR
500–1000
EDUCATION
Bachelor of Arts/English Literature, University of Michigan
One-year apprenticeship in studio ceramics with UK potter Rupert Spira
THE TIME IT TAKES (PERCENTAGES)
Making work: 60%
Promotion/selling: 25%
Office/bookkeeping: 15%
FAVORITE TOOL
Sherrill Mudtools blue rib
PROCESS
I love combining throwing and handbuilding: throwing and handbuilding components and then assembling them into a thrown and altered form.
WHERE IT GOES
Retail Stores: 5%
Galleries: 40%
Craft/Art Fairs: 30%
Studio/Home Sales: 10%
Online: 5%
Other/Commissions/Interior Designers: 10%
WHERE TO SEE MORE
Lucy Lacoste Gallery; www.lucylacoste.com
Studio Tashtego; studiotashtego.com
The Nineteen Twenty-Two; www.thenineteentwentytwo.com
Dobrinka Salzman Gallery; www.dobrinkasalzman.com
LEARN MORE
www.anikasten.com
Instagram: @anidagmar
Facebook: @ani.kasten
Business and Community
My relationship with functional versus sculptural ceramics has always been a bit of a balancing act. In 2012, I was invited for the first time to be a guest on the St. Croix Pottery Tour in eastern Minnesota by then-host Connee Mayeron. I had a wonderful time being part of this tour, and it introduced me to a whole new community of studio potters. In 2016, after several years as a guest artist, Mayeron invited me to take over as one of the tour hosts. This was a leap of faith, as it involved moving away from the DC area, which had been my home, community hub, and professional center for the past ten years. The audience for my sculptural vessels and artwork was largely coastal, so there was risk involved in uprooting to the Midwest, to a community centered around functional pottery and country living. The community was wonderful however, and my quest to make something different each day in my studio required a move to someplace with a lower cost of living and space to grow.
I created a studio on the lower level of a beautiful old barn on our land in Shafer, Minnesota, which is divided into thirds by beams for old livestock stalls. One third of the space houses my throwing area with two wheels, lots of shelving, clay storage, a wedging table, a glaze area with a sink at the front of the studio, and a glass double door at the back where I watch wild turkeys forage while I work. The middle space has two large work tables and the final third of my studio houses three electric kilns, my woodshop, and a packing and shipping area. Upstairs in the hayloft is a gallery space, shared with Mayeron, complete with whitewashed boards and floor, track lighting, and wood pedestals which is open by appointment year round, and houses the tour and our fall studio sale.
Over the years, my forms have departed from the functional studio pottery of my beginnings, but have maintained a thread of vessel work throughout. My heart very much desires the in-depth labored projects of the more sculptural pieces, but my livelihood is also sustained by the functional work that I sell at the tour, online, and to a few retail shops. Minnesota life is steeped in the beauty of handmade objects for everyday use, and my practice continues to be informed by that.
Though my life is quieter here, living on a rural homestead after leaving the urban setting of the mid-Atlantic, the studio is always abustle. Since the pandemic, Instagram has become a critical marketing tool for my work, and I spend some time most mornings creating content and honing my photography skills. From my daily posts, I have grown an enthusiastic audience and wonderful collaborative opportunities have come my way. My reliance on craft shows has been a constant, despite uncertain attendance numbers, an aging clientele, and doubts about the future sustainability of craft shows post-pandemic. However, they have continued to serve a vital role connecting me to an audience, not just collectors but also galleries and museum curators. Craft shows, gallery shows, home studio sales, local sales with friends and neighbors, and commissions with interior designers and other clients keep my income streams diverse and healthy. Another mentor of mine, Margaret Boozer, gave me sage advice about always following up. Few of us have the luxury of waiting for opportunities to fall into our laps, so I make a habit of reaching out for things and then always following up once or twice to make sure my missive was received.
So I return to the octopus metaphor, and have arms in many things all at the same time: studio work, sculptural pieces, functional work, administrative tasks, traveling for shows, giving talks and workshops, and then I have my life to attend to. My husband, dog, cats, and flock of birds await me at home along with our vegetable garden and fruit orchard. This life is busy and all-consuming, and my work bleeds into every corner of it. It is not for everyone, but it is my own, and when I decided to make my living from my work in clay, this was at the heart of it. Building in time to be a support to my community is crucial as well. For younger potters thinking of pursuing clay as a career, I would give them the same advice as I was given by my teacher: go to the studio every day, make as much work as you can, and sell it. What sounds simple is not necessarily easy, but with enough diligence you can make it work.
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