CHAPTER ONE:
Jean Garriock, My Grandmother
My grandmother was a potter. Toward the back of her property next to the raspberry bush sat her little blue shed. Every time I slept over at grandma's house I would grab the key with the whistle attached to it and venture out to her shed. Even though her shed wasn't very big I would find myself lost in there for hours. Her shelves were filled with mason jars of powders, marbles, glass bits, sand, sea foam sponges and other curious things. An old wooden kick wheel sat pressed up against the wall. It was archaic and clunky, a tool that she never used but never parted with.
Along the large window overlooking the raspberry bush was her kiln. All I understood about the kiln was that it was powerful and we needed to respect it. A little timer sat in grandma's kitchen window and when the kiln was firing, it would go off every hour as a reminder that it was time to turn up the kiln. She would let us run to the shed with very specific instructions on which switch to flick on. One switch every hour for 5 hours.
Sleepovers at my grandmother's house looked like this: classical music playing on the radio, swinging sessions on an old wooden swing that hung from her big maple tree, and explorations of the world of arts and crafts. We stenciled clothing, painted pictures, made origami swans and boats and sailed them down Twelve Mile Creek, and (my favourite, of course) we worked with clay. When I was about five years old my grandmother and I made a wind chime that now hangs in my house for safekeeping. This is my first true recollection of getting my hands in the clay. The wind chime is an outline of my hands and feet, fired and unglazed, now strung to a small branch. Every element of this chime is pure organic beauty.
When I started to grow older and the sleepovers faded away so did my time with clay. In my early twenties, during a time of soul searching and uncertainty I found myself back at my grandmother's house. She was a wise woman and a kind woman. Desiring to know more about what made her a happy person I asked her to teach me more about her life passions. We spent time talking about gardening, baking pies, stewing jams, discussing books and potting. I felt at home and reconnected to my roots when I spent time learning from my grandmother. She had so much to teach and I quickly rekindled my fascination with her world of pottery. Our afternoons were spent in her dark dirt basement learning to center clay on the wheel. It was in these moments spent with my grandmother that I found myself and my passion.
Fast forward ten years and you will now find me in my country home with my husband Ryan and our cat Townes. Two hens; Henny and Captain (and more on the way in June!) Our spunky roo, Henry. We have two adopted dogs; Chance and Julius. The view from our backyard is vineyards and vast farmer's fields. As I glaze wares at my front studio table I look out over Jackson's Flats Valley. There is one house at the bottom of this valley and it belongs to my father. I have spent more than half my life surrounded by this place, this grace of nature, and I honour it by incorporating its beauty into my work.
Step up to our back deck and enter into shed's retail gallery. It is in this home surrounded by country living that shed pottery was born.
Along the large window overlooking the raspberry bush was her kiln. All I understood about the kiln was that it was powerful and we needed to respect it. A little timer sat in grandma's kitchen window and when the kiln was firing, it would go off every hour as a reminder that it was time to turn up the kiln. She would let us run to the shed with very specific instructions on which switch to flick on. One switch every hour for 5 hours.
Sleepovers at my grandmother's house looked like this: classical music playing on the radio, swinging sessions on an old wooden swing that hung from her big maple tree, and explorations of the world of arts and crafts. We stenciled clothing, painted pictures, made origami swans and boats and sailed them down Twelve Mile Creek, and (my favourite, of course) we worked with clay. When I was about five years old my grandmother and I made a wind chime that now hangs in my house for safekeeping. This is my first true recollection of getting my hands in the clay. The wind chime is an outline of my hands and feet, fired and unglazed, now strung to a small branch. Every element of this chime is pure organic beauty.
When I started to grow older and the sleepovers faded away so did my time with clay. In my early twenties, during a time of soul searching and uncertainty I found myself back at my grandmother's house. She was a wise woman and a kind woman. Desiring to know more about what made her a happy person I asked her to teach me more about her life passions. We spent time talking about gardening, baking pies, stewing jams, discussing books and potting. I felt at home and reconnected to my roots when I spent time learning from my grandmother. She had so much to teach and I quickly rekindled my fascination with her world of pottery. Our afternoons were spent in her dark dirt basement learning to center clay on the wheel. It was in these moments spent with my grandmother that I found myself and my passion.
Fast forward ten years and you will now find me in my country home with my husband Ryan and our cat Townes. Two hens; Henny and Captain (and more on the way in June!) Our spunky roo, Henry. We have two adopted dogs; Chance and Julius. The view from our backyard is vineyards and vast farmer's fields. As I glaze wares at my front studio table I look out over Jackson's Flats Valley. There is one house at the bottom of this valley and it belongs to my father. I have spent more than half my life surrounded by this place, this grace of nature, and I honour it by incorporating its beauty into my work.
Step up to our back deck and enter into shed's retail gallery. It is in this home surrounded by country living that shed pottery was born.
CHAPTER TWO:
2017 The Tipping Point
THE PAST:
After a very unexpected layoff from my management job in the food and wine industry, I decided to try and sell extra pots that I had from my part-time market gigs. In the spring of 2014, I threw a chalkboard a-frame sign on my lawn: "shed pottery open". I displayed pots on old crates that I had salvaged from a retired farmer down the road. If the weather called for rain, I covered my wares with a tarp and closed-up shop. If the sun was shining shed was open! I was contacted by local talent, Chef Adam Hynam-Smith, he was writing a cookbook: "Curbside: Modern Street Food From A Vegabond Chef" and wanted handmade wares to plate his recipes. Essentially, that is where it all began for shed. After working with Chef Adam, I went on to collaborate with some of Niagara's top restaurants, breweries, wineries, and chefs. I single handedly made thousands of wares for these different establishments. I worked myself into exhaustion, and made an incredible amount of sacrifices along the way, but that is what you do when your are truly passionate about something, you put your entire heart and soul into it.
THE PRESENT:
In 2017 I reached a tipping point. As demand for my work increased, it became impossible to juggle both the large restaurant contracts while trying to stock my retail gallery - which had now gained its own busy momentum. Now, I was working harder than before, harder than was possible and sustainable for one human being. It was taking a toll on my mental and physical well-being. I couldn't make everyone happy; despite my best efforts, "lack of product" was a term I heard far too often in 2017. Most importantly, I was losing my own happiness and passion toward my craft. Finding myself at a crossroads in my business and in my life, I could see only two options: 1) Quit - which I threatened more often then I want to admit, or 2) Find a solution!
A solution wasn't easy to establish. Yes, help was the answer, but who? Who would work as hard as I do? Care as much as I do? Who do I want to share my most intimate space with? The place I go to clear my mind and to work out all my anxieties; the place that is my own, and that I worked so hard to establish. There is only one person that could fill this role, but would he want to? The answer was "yes!" and the solution was my husband.
In July, Ryan quit his job to work with me full-time as my apprentice. There is so much to teach him and so much for us both still to learn, but it's a beautiful life, because we are now in this together. 2018 is going to be a whole new year and direction at shed. We no longer take on new restaurant contracts, we only continue on a much smaller scale with our existing local relationships. We have passed on all shows to produce solely for our retail gallery. We have exciting plans for a new firing method in the spring (hint below!). shed is still so young and so much continues to change and evolve with each passing day. We are humbled and grateful to have tremendous support from our community and beyond, allowing us to stride forward with our shed pottery dream.
Our promise to you as husband and wife potters is to always work hard and put only our love and joy into our work. Thank you for following along in our journey, we can't wait to see what the future brings!
After a very unexpected layoff from my management job in the food and wine industry, I decided to try and sell extra pots that I had from my part-time market gigs. In the spring of 2014, I threw a chalkboard a-frame sign on my lawn: "shed pottery open". I displayed pots on old crates that I had salvaged from a retired farmer down the road. If the weather called for rain, I covered my wares with a tarp and closed-up shop. If the sun was shining shed was open! I was contacted by local talent, Chef Adam Hynam-Smith, he was writing a cookbook: "Curbside: Modern Street Food From A Vegabond Chef" and wanted handmade wares to plate his recipes. Essentially, that is where it all began for shed. After working with Chef Adam, I went on to collaborate with some of Niagara's top restaurants, breweries, wineries, and chefs. I single handedly made thousands of wares for these different establishments. I worked myself into exhaustion, and made an incredible amount of sacrifices along the way, but that is what you do when your are truly passionate about something, you put your entire heart and soul into it.
THE PRESENT:
In 2017 I reached a tipping point. As demand for my work increased, it became impossible to juggle both the large restaurant contracts while trying to stock my retail gallery - which had now gained its own busy momentum. Now, I was working harder than before, harder than was possible and sustainable for one human being. It was taking a toll on my mental and physical well-being. I couldn't make everyone happy; despite my best efforts, "lack of product" was a term I heard far too often in 2017. Most importantly, I was losing my own happiness and passion toward my craft. Finding myself at a crossroads in my business and in my life, I could see only two options: 1) Quit - which I threatened more often then I want to admit, or 2) Find a solution!
A solution wasn't easy to establish. Yes, help was the answer, but who? Who would work as hard as I do? Care as much as I do? Who do I want to share my most intimate space with? The place I go to clear my mind and to work out all my anxieties; the place that is my own, and that I worked so hard to establish. There is only one person that could fill this role, but would he want to? The answer was "yes!" and the solution was my husband.
In July, Ryan quit his job to work with me full-time as my apprentice. There is so much to teach him and so much for us both still to learn, but it's a beautiful life, because we are now in this together. 2018 is going to be a whole new year and direction at shed. We no longer take on new restaurant contracts, we only continue on a much smaller scale with our existing local relationships. We have passed on all shows to produce solely for our retail gallery. We have exciting plans for a new firing method in the spring (hint below!). shed is still so young and so much continues to change and evolve with each passing day. We are humbled and grateful to have tremendous support from our community and beyond, allowing us to stride forward with our shed pottery dream.
Our promise to you as husband and wife potters is to always work hard and put only our love and joy into our work. Thank you for following along in our journey, we can't wait to see what the future brings!
