The future is built day by day.
Politics, Pottery, and the Culture We Shape
I try to keep Creek Road Pottery from becoming a political blog, but culture inevitably filters into what we create. Right now, politics and economics are shifting rapidly, and uncertainty is everywhere. Maybe we’re all like mugs being fired in a kiln, shaped by heat and pressure, hoping for a good outcome.
A kiln load can go wrong. Pots can be over-fired, under-fired, or cracked beyond repair. But the process—the struggle to refine, to perfect—is what makes pottery and life alike. In the end, we are shaped by the fires we endure, and all we can do is hope for a more perfect firing next time.
The Work and the Pots
Balancing work and pottery has always been a challenge, but I remind myself that one supports the other. The big paper factory provides the stability to keep Creek Road Pottery running, and Creek Road Pottery gives me the creative outlet that keeps me going. Last year, I put so much effort into upgrading the pottery—buying new kiln bricks, improving the studio—that my sales took a hit. But slow times can be an opportunity. If this year brings another slowdown, I’ll take that time to finish the wood kiln and make the studio more efficient.
Now that Creek Road Pottery is nine years old, I’ve spent more than half my life balancing manufacturing and creativity. Both have pushed and pulled against each other. My strategy has always been to make the two work together. While I turned down promotions at the factory to prioritize the pottery, I’ve also structured my job to allow me the freedom to create. I hope one day to retire into the pots entirely. Until then, I’ll keep showing up—because time moves forward, whether we plan for it or not.
A Birthday Reflection
This month, I turned 50, and Creek Road Pottery turned nine. When my wife and I bought our home, I finally had the space to build a pottery studio, and that small dream turned into something real. Nine years later, I still feel lucky to be here, creating work for people who care.
Deciding to start a pottery business was the easy part. The real work came with practicing, learning, failing, and figuring out how to make work good enough to sell. My experience in manufacturing helped with understanding costs, production planning, and efficiency. But pottery isn’t just about business—it’s about creating something meaningful. Today, I remind myself that every day is a new beginning, another chance to shape the future. Tonight’s birthday celebration? A simple cupcake with my 90-year-old mother, who always made birthdays special.
Making Plans—And Sticking to Them
Plans are easy to make, harder to follow. I love the structure of a well-thought-out schedule, but I struggle to stick to it. I make lists, plan firings, schedule production runs—then life happens, and I find myself catching up.
I once promised myself I’d be in the studio every day, but that hasn’t always happened. Some days, exhaustion wins. Other times, distractions take over. But the work still gets done. This weekend, I have a lot of pots to make, and they will get finished. Maybe I need to focus more on making the process enjoyable rather than just productive. The best plan, after all, is one that allows room for creativity.
A Dream Worth Paying Attention To
The other night, I had a strange dream. I signed up for a pottery class, expecting to learn new techniques, only to find out I was the instructor. The realization frustrated me. I sat down with my instructor-self, skeptical that he would actually show up and commit to the work. “You have great ideas,” I told him, “but do you actually follow through?”
That moment in the dream stuck with me. It forced me to ask: Am I showing up for myself? I’ve invested so much into building Creek Road Pottery—so why do I still let distractions pull me away? I realized I’ve been treating myself like a student, expecting growth, while also being a teacher who sometimes fails to lead. That needs to change. The dream was a wake-up call.
Generosity in Making and Selling
Being generous doesn’t mean giving things away for free—it means creating with purpose and offering something meaningful. Instead of convincing people to buy, I need to focus on making work that matters. Handmade pottery isn’t just about function; it’s about ritual, connection, and slowing down. A well-made mug can become a part of someone’s daily routine, a comforting presence in their hands each morning.
Sales should feel empowering, not rushed. If I only have 20 crocks, I can tell customers when the next batch will be ready, building anticipation rather than pressure. I want to create a buying experience that feels intentional—whether that’s through personal notes in each package or simply being present for the people who appreciate handmade work. We don’t need millions of customers, just a thousand people who truly care.
A New Collection: The Beatitudes Project
I’ve been thinking about a new collection of pots: The Beatitude Collection. Inspired by the text in Matthew 5:3-10, these pots would carry reminders of mercy, peace, and righteousness, a call to action rather than just words on a page.
I imagine these texts circling the rims of bowls, baking dishes, and mugs—simple yet powerful reminders of values that seem lost in the noise of modern life. The best time to embody these teachings was yesterday. The second-best time? Right now. If you’re a maker, feel free to run with this idea. Even if a single pot influences someone to reflect, that’s a step in the right direction.
Self-Sufficiency and the Local Community
With all the changes happening in the world, I’ve been thinking a lot about self-reliance. It’s easy to feel powerless when large forces shift around us, but one way to push back is by strengthening local communities. The less dependent we are on outside systems, the more freedom we retain.
Maybe it’s time to go back to local. To form volunteer groups, community co-ops, or small gatherings. To rebuild the kind of local networks that used to hold communities together. No matter how chaotic things get, we always have the ability to create something stable within our own circles.
Clearing Out the Mud Daubers
If a kiln sits too long, mud daubers move in—tiny wasps that build clay nests in burner orifices and gas lines, blocking everything. If we leave our skills idle, the same thing happens. Creative blocks don’t form all at once; they creep in over time, quietly.
The only way to keep the mud daubers out is to stay in motion. If I stop throwing, my hands forget the movements. If I stop glazing, my instincts dull. The only fix is to keep working—even on days when the clay fights back. And if I do get stuck? The nests can always be cleared out. The kiln can be fired again.
Closing Thoughts
Creek Road Pottery is now in its ninth year, and I’m looking ahead to what comes next. More pots. More firings. More writing. More showing up. I hope this newsletter finds you well and reminds you to keep creating, no matter what.
Thank you for reading and for supporting handmade.
Until next time,
Al Wayman
Creek Road Pottery
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