Working Near the Edge

Lately, I’ve been working near the edge. The kiln build has taken much of my time and energy, and while that project inches along, a handful of other deadlines are creeping in. When you focus on one thing, other things inevitably go untouched. Now that I am in a crunch, I need to catch up on pots, prep for shows, and send out gallery images I do not yet have. Some of this is self-imposed. I pushed a few projects too far ahead, and now they are all meeting me here at the edge of my time and resources. Other tasks, though, are handed down from outside and come with expectations and timelines I need to meet, especially if I care about not letting others down.

Working at the edge brings a kind of forced clarity. There is tension, but also a push to decide what truly matters and to act on it. I’m aiming to use the next two days off from the paper factory to make pots and attend an art opening. I’ll need to process reclaim clay, fire the gas kilns, and take photos for upcoming shows. These edges, while stressful, are often the place where learning happens. You find out what your limits are and what systems you need to build. You also learn the hard lesson of saying no to protect your yes. At the edge, you get better at spotting when you are part of the problem, and if you can admit it, that in itself becomes part of the solution.

On Being Nudged by Good Friends

This week I had no plans to be action-driven, but that changed with a phone call from a handmade friend of mine who knows exactly how to light a fire under me. She called to gossip about shows and sales and also reminded me about application deadlines. Thirty minutes later, I found myself signed up for two new shows and a county fair. That’s the kind of boot I sometimes need. While I was still sipping coffee, she had already recruited me into another season of making, shipping, and showing up. It was a good reminder that it only takes one conversation with the right kind of friend to get back in motion.

By the end of the day, I was already making a list of what pots I needed to make to fill the new spots. I felt both overwhelmed and grateful. These types of relationships help carry you when you forget the work matters. They keep you aligned with the mission, especially when self-doubt or exhaustion sets in. The handmade community, when it works well, reminds us why we keep doing this work even when the road gets tough. Having people around who are not afraid to push you forward might be the greatest form of generosity.

A Day for the Be Backers

On Sunday, I sent my wife to sit the last day of the artist tour while I caught up on sleep from the night shift. She brought a good book and a bit of skepticism about whether anyone would show up in the rain. I dropped her off with a warm cup of coffee and a laugh about all the customers who said they would “be back” but never do. At shows, we often joke about this phenomenon and even play “art show bingo” to pass the time. But something special happened—those “be backers” actually came back.

She made some solid sales, and I could tell by the way she recounted each story that the day had gone well. We both agreed the follow-through of those return customers brought a kind of joy that stayed with us. After hearing how enjoyable the day had been, I told her I would owe her dinner for helping out. These little moments of support and surprise are what keep the pottery moving forward. The pots go where we cannot, and on Sunday, they did just that.

The Studio Mirror

After the whirlwind of shows and kiln work, I looked around the studio and saw just how scattered everything had become. Disorganization might be my default setting, especially when the calendar fills and the projects start stacking. At the paper factory, I am much more structured. The systems are built for that. But when working for yourself, you are the only container holding things together, and it’s easy to spill over. Sometimes the shop reflects my mind—bricks in one corner, glaze buckets in another, and ideas spread across sketchbooks, half-finished mugs, and the cats knocking things off shelves just to remind me I am behind.

Lately, I have been trying to rely more on tools like my Google calendar and notes in ChatGPT to prompt and support the work. I am slowly learning that organizing the creative space also helps clear the mind. My plan is to schedule a clean-up soon, both in the studio and in my own thinking. I need to stay focused on rebuilding the wood kiln, keep up with my pottery class, and prepare for a gallery show in June. Just writing these things down makes me feel a little less scattered. Maybe this small act of reflection is the first step in putting things back where they belong.

On Giving Everything Away

While eavesdropping at a bookstore, I overheard a younger man tell an older one that all his things would one day end up at Goodwill. It made me laugh, but also gave me pause. Where will all my things end up? The kilns, the wheels, the buckets of reclaim—will someone find use for them, or will it all end up in a dumpster? I hope the books find a good library and the kilns go to someone who still makes pots. I have a bit of a pottery junkyard at my place, a quiet museum of past projects and future repairs. I’ve never bought new—only socks, underwear, and jeans. Everything else, including the kilns, came secondhand and has served me well.

I might need to build a small shed for the kilns to keep them dry, or finally organize all the pails of broken fire clay. And maybe, just maybe, I should write a plan for what to do with everything in case I suddenly fall over. There is something honest about admitting we cannot take any of this with us. But there is also something generous in thinking ahead about who might use what we leave behind. If nothing else, I hope the pots I have made continue to carry stories forward, and the materials I leave behind go to those who care enough to keep the fire burning.

Working with What You Can

The rain came today and instead of pushing through with clay work, I decided to handle a long list of everything else. Show applications, calendar updates, and those tasks that seem to pile up when you’re not looking. I made some coffee and did what I could, knowing full well that not everything would get done. Some days, it is less about being productive and more about showing up and moving forward even a little. These admin days might not feel like progress, but they make it possible for other days to happen more smoothly.

I was reminded again that there is no such thing as catching up completely. The best we can do is prioritize and try to finish what we can. The rest rolls forward to the next day. I am trying to get better at not beating myself up for not finishing everything, and instead giving myself credit for showing up in the ways I can. It is no small thing to keep things moving, even if only inch by inch. The wheel turns, the kiln cools, and life unfolds.

Until Next Time…

Thanks for being here. If any of this resonates, reply to say hello, or forward this to someone who loves handmade work and stories. I’ll keep showing up, and maybe together we’ll create something remarkable.

With gratitude,
Alford Wayman

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