Today we delivered to a lovely new gallery in Aberfeldy called Artisanand. We were there on holiday in October and visited the gallery. It was very spacious and full of good quality work. The owner, Angela, was very friendly and chatty and we talked to her about the possibility of contacting her in the near future to show her our work. She said to email anytime. Life/business got busy after that so it was only this month that we actually got in touch.

Angela had a look at our ‘blurb’ and images, our social media and our website and decided that our work was a good fot for the gallery. She then sent us options for upcoming exhibitions, to see which ones we could submit to. We chose the first one, which was called ‘Whimsical Imaginings’. At first, I wasn’t sure if our work fitted, but when we had a good look at the shapes, glazes and some of the words, we easily chose a selection.

Each gallery has their own way of working, so this has to be read through carefully. Angela needed information from us, images of each piece, and a consignment sheet. We worked out some time ago that it’s better for us and for your connection with the gallery and therefore with their customers, if we meet the gallery owner in person. Of course, this is not always possible, but Aberfeldy was  a beautiful two and half hour trip and we tied it in with a picnic together by the River Tay and then to meet friends near Stirling.

All in all, not a bad way to earn a living..

PS, we managed to go without the large picture we had promised so that now needs to be posted! Oops!

Today we added a small piece to an exibition marking the second coming of Donald Trump as president of the United States. An enterprising and thoughtful local couple had gathered a whole bunch of A4 artistic responses to this new moment of uncertainty for our Western civilisation, stringing them up in lines in their gallery. We were grateful to be part of it, as it seemed like a much saner way to mark our new normal…

In a room full of good people today, I found myself feeling strangely detatched. As I reflected on this feeling (which to be honest is not an unusual state for me) I realised that in part this was because I had been here before, in 2016, at Trumps first coming. Back then, I declared myself part of the resistance and began writing protest poetry, much of which is gathered in the first part of my book After The Apocalypse. The thing is, this book has two more parts. Firstly, the great silence of the pandemic, our national and international pause to ponder, which I still think will be seen in hindsight as a pivot point in human history, no matter how irrelevant it seems to us at the moment – even in the light of backwards movement that Trump seems determined to bring about. Then the last part concerned itself with a determination to look for goodness, meaning and even that most fickle of human emotions, hope. This is not the same thing as blind optimism. Nor does it arise from world wearyness with all the oppositional anger, which I certainly feel. Rather it is because I feel deep in my bones a sense that we are a civilisation whose time has come. Trump is a symptom not a cause. A symptom of a bitter process of coming apart driven by the logic of unsustainable consumption and rampant inequality. The thing is, whatever we emerge into will require us to ask the same questions about what truth and beauty we want to carry forward. It will require enough of us to still value love and friendship above hate and vengence. It will need those who love the earth and want to plant trees. It is not 2016 after all, it is 2025. Trump does not seem to be able to learn, but we can, surely? This was the picture that Michaela made, using one of my poems for the exhibition.

Even this does not quite capture what I am trying to describe above. Yes, we need to unite and make conspiracies of kindness towards others and the world – more than ever we need this, but we also need to develop a different narrative for 2025, one that allows us to move beyond division and opposition and to seek instead those places where, despite all that we know and all that we fear, we choose to love.

We’ve had some beautiful emails and messages this week, from people who have bought from us or received a seatree treasure over the festive season, or even way back. It means a lot when people reach out, and reminds us why we do what we do. We pour our hearts into what we do. It all starts with the words, with Chris’s poetry – that’s a whole other blog post needed there – and with our connection to the land and water around us, The clay in our hands takes shape, reflecting the hills, the shorelines, the birds taking flight. Words are added. Sometimes the words lead to the shape, sometimes the shape leads to the words. Words are powerful. They bring hope, meaning, connection.

As we had the words, they flow across the clay in a way that we hope adds to the meaning and textures, lines, marks are added – sometimes a sketch, to bring the words to life. Once fired, the next level, colour, is added.

So much love goes into each piece and we watch as each piece goes through the furnace, as it were. So, to send the work out to you, to its new home, sometimes with a beautiful story attached as to why it is being purchased, is a joyous thing. Thank you!

If you like the bowl in the picture, you can find them here..

It is always difficult to talk about money and so if this feels uncomfortable, move on. Otherwise, hear me out as I try to do justice to this rather tricky subject. After all, many of us wonder whether it might be possible to make a living through art and so I intend to be rather candid.

Michaela and I have been making a living through art, poetry and pottery for about eight years now and have loved every minute of it. We took a deliberate decision to live creatively and simply, knowing that this would have major financial implications. We have not regretted this decision for a moment and here we are, still doing OK, still making art, still paying our bills. We are proof that another way of life is possible, not just through sacrifice and ‘going without’, but by chosing to live towards what matters, what feels important. We only wish we had made the move sooner.

Let’s puts some numbers on it

We live these days on a shared income of around £25K per annum, roughly half of my (Chris’s) last annual salary when I was a Service Manager in health and social care. We have to declare a privilege here, in that we live in our own house, without a mortgage thanks to selling our old house and moving somewhere smaller. (We are aware that housing costs are a huge part of many people’e outgoings, and many feel that ownership outright is totally out of reach.)

We currently run two vehicles, both 11 years old and on their last legs. One is a van, necessary for all the ceramics events we do, the other an old runabout that we use locally. The hope is we can find a vehicle that will do both jobs, but for now, our biggest costs are keeping these two in running condition.

We are all seeing spiralling energy costs, and our art depends on an electric kiln!

Our income, as with many artists and creatives, had a big dip last year. We are OK, but it forced us to think carefully about what we do, how we use our time, what our output should be and how we might diversify. We make no complaints here, as most small businesses will be in the same place.

The business of selling art

There has always been an inherent contradiction in the fact that our decision to live more frugally and creatively was dependent from the start on other people using their disposable income to buy things that we make. Unsprisingly, when people worry about their own income, they have less capacity for purchasing art… although, conversely, many of us keenly feel the need to connect with object of meaning, or to lift a friend with that special thing from distance.

Our experience at the last major ceramics event might be instructive. Overall income was only slightly down from the previous year at the same venue, but the pattern of sales was very different. We make objects ranging from the teens of pounds to around £400 for the largest one-off pots and pictures. We would normally expect our main earnings to be from mid-range items of around £40-80 – vases, poetry plaques and the like – but at the last event, we sold almost nothing in this middle range. Unsurprisingly, most sales were smaller, sub £30 items. Many of these were bought as gifts and often came with lovely stories about the person they were bought for. However, over half our earnings came from the sale of our most expensive offerings.

Perhaps this pattern reflects the way our economy is working at present – many of us are feeling the squeeze, whilst others have done well – but also, through the conversations with customers, people are making conscious attempts to invest in objects of meaning. That is after all what art is for.

Art has always depended to a lesser or greater degree on patrons, on investors, on those able and willing to release money in support those who create the art. In exchange, these people form a relationship with the art, with the artist, and hopefully with the meaning the art is reaching for.

We can honestly say that the greatest pleasure in making our art comes at the point when we meet others who are moved by it. It is often an emotional exchange, full of stories of loss, of hope, of love. The purchase that comes after these exchanges may be very small, out of all proportion to the memory it leaves in it wake.

Of course, we are deeply grateful for these exchanges, but even beyond this, we have come to see them as part of the business of art itself. If we have a calling, it is towards this.

What about the Patreon thing?

One of the ways in which we have tried to diversify and build a different income stream is through this thing called Patreon.

If you have not heard of this before, this is a way for patrons of art (or ‘Patreons’) to support artists directly, through a monthly subscription (paid in American dollars!) In return (depending on what ‘tier’ you subscribe to) you recieve rewards in the form of art.

Seatree has a Patreon account, under the name of Seatree community. This has three tiers, as follows

• Tier one ($3 a month) access to a monthly e-mal with a made-for-Patreon-only video based around a new poem.
• Tier two ($10 a month) as above, plus a monthly hand written piece of art by Michaela, featuring the words of another poem, rendered in her own wonderful style as shown in the image above and the video below
• Tier three ($20 a month) as above, plus a monthly piece of pottery, either as a surprise or one agreed with you.

We both love doing these Patreon things, but we really need to widen our community to make this work for us. If you would like to join us, you would be very welcome! Simply click here and away you go.

Here is a sample of one of the tier one videos (normally only available to those who subscribe, so I hope they will forgive me!) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8Ebwt7NPkY  

 

This piece is, as usual, a poem of Chris’s. It is very satisfying to use the whole poem on a ceramic artwork. I love this poem. it is so vulnerable and so gentle. When I let the words flow down the clay and then wanted to allow a flow of lines too, rather than a detailed drawing, as it felt that would distract rather than add to the work. Once fired, I then added two soft glazes , turning the piece upside down, so that they flowed evenly across the clay palette. It’s one of those pieces that, when it came out of the kiln, we both said, ooh, that worked..

You can find more ceramic artworks like this here..