Pottery Perfection(ish)

I was hoping to share a new batch of my Blishware plates today. Unfortunately, the kiln was not on my side this time.

I started this pottery journey back in 2018. I’d love to believe I’ve steadily improved, but the reality is that my energy only gets me into the studio 10–15 hours a week—not exactly the 10,000-hour mastery plan. Who knew handmade pottery involved so many steps? In the beginning I was just trying to get comfortable on the wheel, working toward the point where I controlled it more than it controlled me. That alone took time.

Back when I worked in membership studios, there was an invisible support crew recycling clay, loading kilns, keeping things smooth, making everything look effortless. Now that I have my own studio, I’m a one-man operation. Getting the form right for my large Blishware plates feels good, but glazing… glazing is its own beast.

Turns out I still have a lot to practice: consistent application, patience (note to self: don’t open the kiln at 300 degrees), and learning to trust my own judgment.

People sometimes say, “It must be amazing not to judge your work since you’re blind,” as if blindness is some magical shield against self-criticism. Little did that artist know I am absolutely my own worst critic. I was a perfectionist before I went blind — and that didn’t disappear. If anything, it grew sharper. Because if the work is excellent, who cares that I’m blind? Blindness doesn’t erase perfectionism. It intensifies it. Touch becomes everything, and trust becomes its own kind of discipline.

I had hoped to share photos of a full new batch of Blishware plates today, but instead I have just a few updated pieces before we head into the new year. If anything speaks to you for the holidays, please shop by December 14. And if you’d prefer a more hands on experience, I always love hosting private studio visits.

Here’s to a messy, unpredictable, perfectly imperfect 2025 — and hopefully a much better 2026.

Cheers,

DK