For a very long time, in fact probably since I first dipped my hands in slip, I pined for my own studio. The autonomy of it appealed. So did the flexibility of being able to pop in an out of my own place when I wanted. And (this is a bit of a man thing) there’d be all that lovely kit; the tools and the bottles, buckets and kilns that I could shout are “Mine! They are all mine.”. But then… Oo-er. There’s the cost.
In recent years, I’ve occasionally pondered over the complete studio packages being offered, often at reasonable enough prices, it has to be said, by potters who are retiring, and I’ve thought, “yeah, I reckon I could cram all of that into my shed”. But for a potter who cannot work eight hours a day almost every day, the numbers just don’t add up.
I would have to rewire my shed with industrial cabling to handle umpteen amps of power, which would probably mean a three phase supply. Nope I don’t fully understand it either, but I know gthe outflow from my coffers would be catastrophic. And the price per kilowatt hour of the sparky stuff has risen by some 50% over the last five years or so. After capital costs, I think it would cost over £100 a week just to keep my kilns glowing. Then there is plumbing and drainage to be installed, which would be a one-off cost, but it would be a damned big one.
And there is a sort of Catch 22 about all of this: to justify splashing out all the money needed to create my own studio, I’d need to use it intensively. And the more I use it, the more it would cost. I know that would mean churning out endless mugs. They are good sellers, the best way to make money, and I like them.But there is more to pottery than mugs. I could take in a student. Rent out some space to a budding potter. Yeah, but I know how it goes: if you are managing a pottery and people, forget about making your own pots.
So, while there is still a part of me that would like to paddle my own studio-shaped canoe, that part is much diminished, compared to the part of me that likes what I do now. That is rent time and space in a big studio in Kilburn run by a nice guy and populated by a dozen or more other potters, all of whom are now friends.
We do more than rub along well. We share our skills and knowledge; give feedback on each other’s work, and commiserate each other when something emerges as mud-brown blob, rather than the golden-hued vessel we had imagined. We’ll sit down for lunch together, and talk of things other than pottery for a bit. None of that would happen in my vastly expensive garden shed.
Renting time and space in a large studio means that at the end of the day, I can throw my clay-caked tools into my tool box, grab the gorgeous creations that have emerged from four huge shared kilns, and go home. When I return later in the week, the glaze buckets will be topped up, there will be fresh bags of clay by the wedging table. I’ll whistle a happy tune as I take my seat at my favourite wheel, and concentrate on creation.
Did someone say they’re making coffee?
Ceramics by Graham Bound 