Spring 2026

When Winter Isn’t Quiet in the Studio

Winter has a reputation for being a quiet time. From the outside, it makes sense—shorter days, colder temperatures, a natural pause after the intensity of the holiday season. It sounds like the perfect time to slow down, reflect, maybe even rest. 

But in reality, winter is anything but quiet.  For me, winter is when there is a really big push for shops who start preparing for spring, placing wholesale orders and restocking after the holidays. It’s a season of production—of filling shelves that will carry handmade work into the brighter months ahead. 

My kilns are running, shelves are lined with drying work, and I’m moving steadily through batches of handmade, wheel-thrown pottery—mugs, bowls, and functional pieces that I know will find their way into new homes as the seasons shift.

And then, almost suddenly, it changes. The wholesale orders taper off. The rush softens. The studio gets a little quieter—not empty, but quieter in a way that feels spacious. These are the moments I look forward to when I have a bit of breathing room and can think about creating new work. New collections don’t appear fully formed—they emerge slowly. A shift in form, a new carving pattern, a glaze combination that wasn’t planned but feels right. This is when I can experiment, take risks, and follow ideas without the immediate pressure of fulfilling orders.

It’s a different kind of work, but just as essential. Because these quieter weeks are what shape everything that comes next. This is the part of the work that isn’t always visible—the ebb and flow behind a studio practice rooted in functional, handmade ceramics. Winter isn’t quiet. Spring is expansive. Summer is strategic. Fall is full.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I’m carving, throwing, firing—one piece at a time.