What does 'handmade' mean to me?

photo and styling credit: Tyler Payne and Francis Chan

Lately I have been reminiscing about my childhood as I often compare it to my own kid's, mostly because I grew up without devices, video games, computers or the internet.  Outside of Saturday morning cartoons on a black and white telly, the most device-oriented entertainment I had in my childhood was the double tape deck I received for Christmas one year that allowed me to play dj and make up my own radio shows.   I did a lot of making as a kid, and my mom, aunts, and grandmas' all gave me hand-made gifts or sewed me dresses to wear for special occasions.  With my family's modest income, handmade was a necessity, not a privilege.  Handmade back in the late 70's/ 80's meant truly 'made by hand from scratch', and conjures up images of funky weaving, rustic pottery, quilts made from old dresses and aprons, baskets, and blue ducks.

Fast-forward to today, where the term 'handmade' is thrown around to add value to an item and ultimately make it more expensive than a mass-produced item.   Handmade terms are added onto items found in big-box stores to add value to items made overseas; words like 'woven', 'hand-blocked', 'hand-loomed', 'hand-crafted' are all used interchangeably.  Etsy has started changing it's policy and definition of what 'handmade' means to their site, adding that sellers can now out-source production and ship from manufacturers both local and abroad as long as they can verify that the original design is their own (see this article for more info).  I see this really changing how 'handmade' is perceived, creating even more confusion to the average person, who is already not quite sure how things are made. 

Over the past few years of being a full-time maker I catch myself judging items I see marked 'handmade' as somehow not quite 'handmade'- depending on if they were made 'from scratch' or whether they were put together with parts manufactured elsewhere.  I realized recently that my judgement wasn't really fair and that ultimately I am searching for what handmade means to me and to what I make.  A few years ago I began to make some of my pieces using slip-casting moulds made from my own designs, making my work look more refined, and less 'handmade'.  A frequent comment at the Crawl this year was how I get things to look so uniform- although most of the time, the comments came when people were holding a wheel-thrown piece of mine.  It's interesting to think through how comments from people at the Crawl kind of sit with me over time.  A few years back it was a comment I over-heard saying that my work was 'a bit too handmade looking' that had me scrutinize my glazing method to really clean up my designs.

I don't want to simply react and make changes within my handmade business solely based on the shifts within the handmade industry, but I can't ignore what is happening to the ever-evolving idea of what handmade means.  It has had me re-think how I want to make in the studio recently and I can't quite say for sure how this will change my work.

Recently I have started working with a couple of new clay bodies.  One is a beautiful but pernickety porcelain that is double the cost of my previous porcelain.  The other is a stoneware tan clay body that has a lot of flecks in it.   I have spent more time on the wheel and hand-building (like the porcelain herringbone platters above), attempting to get back into a rhythm that could perhaps allow me to make more of my mugs on the wheel again.  I've changed some of my glazing methods with some simpler glaze designs that loosen up my work in the glazing department.  I think there is a shift I'm working towards within my work, and I'm not sure what will become of it.   I started painting again and that feels really good.  It's informing my ceramics in a different way so I'm pretty excited to see where that can take me.

I think at the core of handmade is the notion that the hand of the maker creates an intrinsic value in what her or she creates.  Maybe that's thinking too highly of one's ability to make or the skill or craftsmanship of an object, but I think the story of handmade goes so much further when it comes from the hand, because it's closer to the heart.  As I see other makers move into becoming designers and there-by removing themselves from some of the making process, I wonder whether this is a direction I should be planning to take myself.  Then I get lost in throwing a bowl or hand-building a platter with my hands full of clay and somehow I want to re-discover the handmade spirit that got me started on this path in the first place.

I'm curious to hear what you think about some of the changes that are happening with Etsy, or with makers turning more into designers and outsourcing production.  I think the viability of a handmade business creates bottom lines for people who ultimately need to find ways to make their work more profitable.  Clearly there is no right or wrong, just a ton of different paths and options of ways to grow or sustain one's work.  I think those of us who are studio makers and full-time at it are constantly wondering how to make it a little easier financially or easier with making/production time. I welcome the notion that 'handmade' isn't going to mean the same thing to everything, however at this moment I feel like a truly handmade mode of making still resonates with me and my work. 

thoughts on the Studio Magazine article, working with large retailers, and 'craft' becoming mainstream

Back when I was in art school I had a favourite inspiration go-to book in the school library- it was an Arts and Crafts Movement book - I think it's the same as this Phiadon book, but it had a different cover back when I was looking at it, so it's hard to tell.  The book was literally filled with drawings of designs for teapots, mugs, textiles, rugs, china patterns, and glassware from this period.  While I was preparing for my talk at the Gardiner Museum in June I found these slides I had taken from portions of the book as a reminder of how much I had been inspired by the drawings of designers from this period.  I can't help but think of this book and these drawings when I see Molly Hatch's work, especially the teacups from the Mimesis Series.  I absolutely love how she drew teacups from this period onto a simple wheel-thrown mug.  I just had to buy one- a real one, hand-thrown, mishima incised and hand-painted, by Molly herself.  Imagine my surprise when I saw her designed version available in Anthropologie Stores a few months later, just as I had finished and was about to ship off my very large 450 vase Anthropologie order!

Which leads me to the article that was recently written in Studio Magazine, an Ontario Crafts Council publication geared towards professional crafts people within Canada.  I was approached to be included (along with a couple of other amazing artists) in an article about Anthropologie buying Craft and agreed to share part of my experience of filling a couple of small orders (the article says 1 small order, but it was 2), and then a really large order of 450 vases for them last year.  The premise for the article came out of a curiousness about what happens when a retailer gets behind a craft aesthetic, both by purchasing directly from artists and designers, or from creating designs in collaboration with an artist.  I think more opportunities have opened up to work with retailers over the past few years then perhaps previously, and while I myself have jumped on this band-wagon, I also recognize that it's a hard path to navigate as it's relatively new territory.  As artists we understand the role and commitment a gallery plays in our career, but the role of retail is something entirely different.  Many artists and makers that I talk to are wondering whether working with a retailer is right for them, and I guess I saw the article as an opportunity to explain a little bit about what's involved.

In the article I shared how the work load for an order of this size was really much larger then my studio of mostly myself can manage (although I did manage to do it!) and that, over the months it took me to fill the order, I didn't have the space or the ability to work on any other creative work.  I felt that it was important to share the reality of production when the work is created 'in house', as opposed to if the work was designed by an artist but produced over-seas.

 Since finishing the Anthropologie order last fall, I have had a lot of time to think through whether I would ever do an order like that again.  While I was really learning on the fly (ie steep learning curve!!), I very quickly realized that I am an artist and maker of small batches, not a ceramic manufacturer.  I have appreciated the ability of a retailer to promote my work the way Anthropologie did, but understand too well the limitations of my ability to produce a volume of work consistently for a retailer of that magnitude. While I have some misgivings and am frustrated by the lack of North American ceramic based manufacturing options for retailers, I would likely opt to design if this kind of opportunity ever came up again.

I think the article brings up some positives and negatives of retailers at large jumping on the 'craft bandwagon'.  It's not just Anthropologie who is working with artists and makers- there are many other large retailers doing the same.  I too have noticed terms like 'handmade', 'woven', 'knit', and 'hand-painted' being added to manufactured items as a way to add value and somehow increase sales based on the addition of a crafty term.  These are words that were once used by us as makers as a way to distinguish their work as being of more value (and thus more $) then manufactured items, but now everyone seems to be using these terms and it's become confusing to the average consumer.  Clearly hand made is a trend that is becoming more mainstream and we as professional makers aren't quite sure what to do with this kind of "success".  Sometimes I compare it to the rise of Skateboarding- which started out as really small sub-culture and then blew up into mainstream proportions.  A lot of hard-core skaters I know went underground when it all became so mainstream- that or just kept trying to do bigger and better tricks while they rode the wave of popularity.  Not to say that the hand-made movement is exactly the same, or that we have to have the same response, but just that I find it kind of interesting considering a few years ago someone made the comment about my work- that it was a 'bit too handmade looking', and now that's what everyone seems to be looking for.

Practice verses Business...and a bit more of the new studio

Ever since Forage, I've been thinking through the difference between having a 'practice' and running a 'business'.  One of our panel discussions had to do with grant writing, online financing campaigns, and award applications for making art.  The term when to use 'business' and when only to use 'art practice' came up - for instance don't ever use the term 'business' when applying for a grant- always use the term 'practice' or the grant jurors won't even consider your submission.  Although when it comes time to collecting and submitting my taxes or applying for a business license to be able to use my studio, I essentially operate as a ceramic manufacturing business.

So I started thinking through how I felt about the terms 'business' and 'practice'- whether or not one applied to me more then the other, and also, if these terms were really in fact the same way of talking about what I do.  I generally use 'art practice' and 'business' interchangeably but I often feel ill-equipped as an artist to be running a viable business.  For instance when the chatty guy at the bus stop starts asking what I do and I say 'ceramic artist' and he replies 'Is there any money in that?' I kind of stumble over my words.  Not like it's any of his business, but it has become clear to me that I'm much more comfortable understanding what I do as a practice where the personal out-comes of creating and making are more important than the dollars and cents of it.

Part of me realizes that my core values are being triggered here- that I have always viewed 'business' and 'making money' as self-serving and with a negative slant.  The artist in me wants my motives for making decisions to be 'pure'- as though making decisions to do with my creative goals and out-comes are more honourable then if those goals considered financial out-comes.  I totally admire those who feel like their ability to profit financially through their creative endeavors comes honestly or naturally, and always hoped that this would be really seamless for me as well, but am recognizing that making decisions based on my artistic out-comes alone and not considering the financial isn't healthy, viable, or sustainable either.

Every milestone I have crossed with 'dahlhaus' has been really amazing and I'm truly grateful for the opportunities that have come my way.  The potential I see in what I do will come at the cost of other things for sure, but I sometimes mourn the missed opportunities that have come across my desk- missed because I wasn't ready to have all the pieces in place to make those opportunities happen.  I have always been less prepared for success and more prepared for failure and I'd really like to change this notion (*thank you to Fiona from Cartolina Cards for clarifying this in her talk at Forage).  I'm hopeful that I  can create a more symbiotic relationship between the business of what I do and the practice of making so that the decisions and the opportunities don't overwhelm or stall the creative path that I'm on.

 **These are a few photos of sections of my new studio. It's a little hard to see how big the space is (360 sq. feet!).  I have yet to photograph the whole thing because last week I purchased a used slip-casting table to help me out with some of the heavy lifting that slip-casting demands.  It's a big massive table that I still have to sort out how to configure the rest of the studio around it.  I'll also be sharing this space with my former studio intern from a few summers ago, Kelly, who wanted to share some studio space for the next few months before she moves far, far away.  I'll be missing her when she goes so it will make for some good time together before she leaves.

Spotted: my mug in the West Elm Catalogue...

Since Vancouver doesn't have a West Elm (yet...) I made sure to visit the West Elm in Toronto.  It's always interesting who they have designing their ceramics- Michelle Michael of Elephant Ceramics has recently designed a line of vases for them that are quite lovely so I had wanted to see some in person.   And looky look, what I found in their catalogue...one of my mugs! Hmmm. Don't see any credit near by, just the details on that great yellow side table.

So what's going on here.  Yes, I'd like to know too.  Larger retailers are certainly jumping on the hand-made train.  And so should they!  Independent designers have a lot of creative appeal right now- we aren't at a desk all day with deadlines and bottom lines like many retail designers would be.  We make the work from scratch, designing as we make, and testing with many many kiln-loads of work before the work gets noticed.  Clearly retailers are starting to notice though. 

After my order with Anthropologie last summer I have to admit that I wasn't quite sure what the next step would be for me as far as working with a larger retailer.  My hands felt a bit tied (and tired!)- there was no way, with the current conditions, that I could take on a larger order then 450 vases.  But for a retailer with several stores and an online shop, this was a really small run.  The designing aspect seem like it would be promising, but on checking in with a few designers, the price of giving these designs over just doesn't add up, unless you produce multiple designs (ie give a wack load of work over to the retailer).  Factor in the whole idea that everything would be made in China and I feel like the whole point of my work would be lost.

The idea of controlling production either by outsourcing my work on my own or expanding my studio both have their pros and cons, but in the end, the financials just weren't matching up.  I think it's the whole idea of wholesale that kills this system.  There's a really good reason why there are very few (if any) ceramic manufacturers left in Canada and the US.  It's because the cost of production, labour, and rent are too high for wholesaling ceramics.  And in the end, retailers want to buy ceramics for cheap.  So we get used to buying ceramics for cheap and assume that it can be made cheaply.

One last little point to this rant.  I dropped off my work at the Gallery of BC Ceramics the other day and there is an amazing show of Salt-fired pottery going on.  I started looking around- it's a real 'potter's' show- only potters would understand what it means to stoke a wood-fire kiln for 40 hours, adding hand-chopped wood sometimes every 3 minutes to get the kiln to a cone 10 temperature.  Even if the work was fired in a gas kiln with salt introduced at just the right time, it's still a 12-14 hour firing schedule that needs constant attention from someone to turn up or down the gas dials just at the right time.  So this work was laboured over- seriously stunning work that these days, most people just don't quite understand.  And the prices!!! People, when the price of a jug is $60 and the gallery takes $30, it's not even paying for the cost of materials.  Maybe some potters can afford to make work for nothing, but I certainly can't.   And if the constant perception out there in the world is that making pottery is cheap? Oi. This is going to be a really hard run. 


***Incidentally, if you like the orange striped mug in the West Elm Catalogue, you might be able to find a few more over at the Curiousity Shoppe. I made a run of these mugs for a pop-up shop they did in San Fransisco last fall- which is likely where the West Elm stylists bought the mug, seeing as I haven't made the orange stripes since.  *update* apparently orange has sold out- guess I should make a few more;)!

designer verses maker

I'm in a bit of a conundrum these days, trying to sort out my next move.  It's as though I need to go back to the drawing room of what I want  'dahlhaus' to be.  When I started out on this journey to make a living from my art, I thought about this dilemma a bit, but left it well behind for the immediate issues surrounding making unique work that could become my signature, and that I could make consistently well.  I was grappling with the day to day concepts of how to get my work 'out there' and how to get people to buy it so I could keep doing what I loved.  Along the way I found out what people liked about my work and began to tweak it so that people would begin to love it and want to buy it.  There's a big shift that goes on in that stage and it is very exciting to have shops start to contact me (instead of me contacting shops), have some blog and press mentions, and start to feel like maybe, just maybe, I can really make a living at this. 

So now I'm in the grind of making.  I am a great maker, it's what I seem to do best.  I've never thought of myself as a designer, but these days I find myself envying them.  The idea of coming up with an amazing ceramic design and then passing it along to a manufacturer to do the making.   I used to scoff at this with my art-school turn up your nose to everything that seems like the easy way out.  But now, in the midst of all my making and the constant requests by new shops to wholesale my work, I dream of passing along some of my work to a manufacturer to make it for me, because I can't do it all by myself anymore.  I have a whole host of ideas of how to avoid my work being 'made in china'.  I have all sorts of reasons why it wouldn't quite be the same to have my work made somewhere else- it wouldn't feel or look the same.  I think about raising my prices to meet the demand of my work better so I could avoid this (it's a good start).  I think about expanding my studio to have a staff or 2  (and all the issues in expanding and staffing that would come with this).  So it's a conundrum, you see.  Financially not much seems very viable, and yet, it seems a shame to just throw up my hands without at least searching for a way around it.  At the very least, it's not a terrible place to be embarking on- a crossroad in life has always been an exciting place to be standing at.