Dreaming Man - on Rue Amelot

There are few places that I feel such connection towards than Dreaming Man. I think it’s the rustic touch. Collecting too much crap and putting it on the shelf for display. What a dreamy way to see our cups in the wild. Our work is peppered through all three of their locations. We knew part of the team from our popups in Tokyo too - who knew the world could be so small too.

Le Doyenné -

A small garden hotel one hour outside of Paris.

A particularly fancy moment for Peyton and I. Sort of a dream to be able to drive outside of Paris and land in this perfect escape in the French countryside. The restaurant here is particularly well known because of the garden the team curates so thoughtfully. This is a 10/10 experience. I know this isnt a travel guide, but we found inspiration in every corner of the place. That little vegetable plate, come on!

Motors Coffee

This is where sophistication meets funky ceramics. Thomas and Lola have created such a special place in the Marais, focusing on different espressos, showcasing the characters of some of the best coffees in the world - served out of our cups! The place is dialled in with their fancy Slayer espresso machine, meanwhile the decor, choice of ceramics, and energy of the space is so inviting. They also took us to the Bistrot de Tournelle where the steak frites changed my life.

Mardi Café

Maybe the nicest people in the world, Adi and Margaux trained in from Provence to welcome us to the city on our second day. I’ll say it here, Mardi is the first place in the world to use our plates in day to day operations, and it’s the cutest thing in the world. This small café is located in the 19th of Paris and they bake all their goods in house.

I’ve never stuck to a traditional job in my life. I remember being a young undergraduate student, studying science to become a doctor. I scored an internship with a professor at UCSB and lasted only one week at that office. I was creating powerpoints on something that didn’t feel important to me, and stuck focusing on when lunchtime was. Even though I didn’t even have enough cash to eat at the hospital cafeteria. I never got the follow up email week two. Crazy to be fired from a free labor job…

Unusual career trajectories have followed me all my life. My first official paid job was at Pinkberry ($8/hour), where I would over-serve my friends and cut the mangoes a little too thick, really messing up this corporations’ food cost. I still own the uniform’s hat too…It's a prized possession of mine. Years later, while pursuing a career in food and wine, I found myself on a vineyard in Los Olivos, pruning grapevines at a vineyard ($15/hour, cash). I lasted only one week as well, probably because we were all broke and my competition was 5x faster than me.

My journey with ceramics began with $5,000, a little blind confidence, and a drive that, to this day, fuels the day-to-day at The Mud Shop. And ironically, I never really left hospitality. Just because I don’t serve $20 glasses of wine, or course out a nice dinner for a 4-top doesn't mean what we do at the shop isn’t built around moments of guest experience. Hospitality within a pottery business isn’t necessarily offering a beautiful moment that exact evening, it’s rather, giving a piece of myself in a genuine way through my ceramics - all to hopefully live at someone’s home, forever.

I’ve been struggling trying to find time to write lately; the business at Danny D’s Mud Shop has been growing. Each month, we are consistently hitting a stronger metrics from years prior. I'm hiring my sixth employee (i’m the first), and finally converting all aspects of payroll to a W2…Boring, but it’s a huge step for any company. And honestly, this is something I should’ve established earlier, but there’s nothing more intimidating than overhead and payroll in my opinion.

This newsletter, that I’m writing on a beautiful Tuesday morning, was previously titled “Things I’ve Lost Starting My Own Company, and My Plan on How to Find Them Again,” but instead evolved to what we have above. I’m not saying I won’t find the guts to write that article, but for today, I'll address the positives, and a few ways I’ve found personal success in an industry that simply doesn’t harbour much of it.

Welcome to the world of ceramics and enjoy the ride; the uphill push to justify pricing, high costs, absurd labouring hours, and the forever dirty pants--none of them are safe, even the nice ones you thought would be great for dinner that same evening.

1. Team is everything. If I can give any advice to growing small business owners - make sure to hire people you want to spend a lot of time with. Find people that hold the same values, excitement, and drive. A good team leads to a good product, especially in a handmade goods business. Every step is important, and it’s impossible for one person to handle them all. Something along the lines of, “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

2. Take care of your body. I started to bike to work a few days a week and it changed my life. Los Angeles is a morbid place to commute via bicycle, but once the route is dialed in, it's incredible. I built a 9-mile ride each way to and from home, adding up to nearly 20 miles each day. During these 45 minute rides, I develop a real sense of mental clarity, and feel like a million bucks when I get in. The way I start my day, ripples through the rest of it. If I begin with physical activity, blood flow, and some high energy movement, I can be a better team member, keep my mind in check, and do better work. My job is a very labour intensive one. My back is constantly in strain - wedging clay, sitting on the wheel, throwing, moving boxes, etc. This small moment each day proves to be the reset button I need, and it is what a lot of people overlook.

3. Generosity. The art of knowing when to give, and watching as it comes back tenfold. This point plays towards point 8 on this list. I’ve always considered myself a generous person, perhaps it was the training in hospitality or my mother being too good to me. I pay attention to every name that hits our order sheet. I notice how many times they’ve ordered, what they bought, and where it’s being shipped. Any opportunity to touch base, hand-write a thank you note, or add in an extra small piece of ceramic is what takes a simple purchase to an experience. I hold a lot of empathy with my buyers, and this sounds corny, but I genuinely want my customers to feel immense value. When we get orders to Australia for a small item (sub $30), and pay $40 to ship, this must really mean they want my work. And we'll need a personal thank you note for that. Two big vases to NYC? Need a note for this. Maybe even a cup to round out the collection. Big package to Singapore - definitely an extra copita. Similar to when you become a regular at a restaurant, maybe the dessert is on the house, or the server wants you to try a new dish the team is working on. It’s unnecessary, but it certainly makes you want to come back again.

4. You never know where your next business opportunity exists. This one I’ll take to my grave. I haven’t learnt much over the years, but if I can be adamant on one thing, it’s that business opportunities come from the most unexpected places and people. My next client is probably hiding under a rock, waiting to buy my cup because I had a conversation with them 5 years ago at a bus stop. Treat everyone well, be humble, try to remember names (I'm so bad with this) and believe that natural, good fortune always comes back at unexpected times.

5. Be authentic, believe in the work you’re making. Absorb and watch, but don't follow. I believe what has helped our small brand gain any sort of traction and the identity it holds. You can see our work from a mile away - it has character, and most importantly, a through line. Everything from the $27 Copita to the $1,000 lamp shade. In the beginning, even within the slower months, I stood strong on the illustrative style that has been consistent over the years. And as I watch the style develop, I consistently remind myself to reel things back in from time to time to maintain what we built everything on.

6. The beauty and struggle of working with your partner. Communication and understanding. This deserves its own substack article, but working with your partner is not for the weak. It takes commitment, understanding, and a lot of communication. A lot of resolution too, as emotions and feelings can get heated. But if it works, it's a beautiful partnership.

1. Always find time to improve…and not being afraid of continuing to build, even if the doors are open for business. What you invest in your space, comes back to you in different ways. I believe beauty in art comes from a beautiful place; in our case, our storefront. Every day I walk into the Mud Shop, I feel inspired. I often forget to look up, but when I do, it's always “wow.” (We have 30 foot ceilings)

2. Nurture relationships, and build long term contracts. This point is obviously related to wholesale business relations, but that's boring. Here's a realtime example with a client whose name I'll leave blank.

Last year, we got a new client, and as the months went on, I noticed the second, third, and even fourth order from this person. On his fourth order, he emailed and asked if we had the wine cup with a certain image on it for his daughter - one of our most popular designs. It was unfortunately sold out. When it came time to ship out, we snuck one in, albeit in a different shape, but nonetheless we did our best to make the gesture.

We are now on this persons’ 9th order since November.

1. Be careful of your time. We all overbook ourselves each week. It’s the nature of life, having friends, and running a business. After four years of running The Mud Shop, I just recently started taking consistent days off and end work at a normal time. Each week, I realistically have 45-55 hours to get what I need to get done, done. Granted, this is pure studio work - no emails, substack writing, or meetings (so ya’ll decide if you consider that work.) The reality of this time constraint is that I can only give myself away so much. I can’t take every meeting, every interview, opportunity, or even dinner with my friends in the evening. I even stoped taking phone calls unless it was a confirmed business opportunity. As I get older, and hopefully a little wiser, protecting my peace becomes increasingly more important.

It may be true that the life I dreamt of living is probably unobtainable now, given my new circumstances, but the life I’ve built is something I’ll never take for granted. As long as we have a small spot within the conversation of interesting ceramics, I’ll be happy. Thank you for reading

Before jumping into this week’s newsletter, I wanted to quickly just say hello and introduce myself. My name is Daniel, and I run a small bespoke ceramics company out in East Hollywood, Los Angeles. The Mud Shop has been a true labour of love, and im proud watching what was once a whim-feeling-wishful thinking-hobby blossom into a real business. It’s hard work, and a constant uphill battle. Most days im sending emails, and hunched over a spinning mass of goop. I forget to look up often, and this practice of writing is my friendly reminder to do so. It’s a reminder of what we are doing is good, and beautiful. And I like to think our work makes people smile, and feel as though their hard earned money is being spent on something real. Thanks for being here, and i’d love for you to join this journey. (This is all free, so no pledge please. Thanks for being here and sharing if you enjoy)

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Welcome to my first storefront

I’ll start off this newsletter strong here - opening a storefront is not for the weak. It takes commitment to a schedule, readiness for the inconsistency (up or down), and willingness to always being on display. Similar to a restaurant, the show starts and stop every day, with hopefully new guests to experience what you have to offer for the first time; hopefully enjoying, judging nicely, and feeling the magic. My favourite podcast at the moment, Canal Street Dreams, just recently gave out this awesome quote. “The magic of certain things is only meant for certain people. And not everything should be consumed by everyone, everywhere.” I resonate with this. Not specifically about being exclusive or being too cool for everyone, but rather the realisation that I don’t have to cater to everyone. Especially in a specific niche like handmade goods, ceramics, clothing etc. Handmade to an extent where every single piece is started, finished, refined and sold in one singular space. A true workshop. The ultimate workplace for a community, a place for creativity to brighten the neighbourhood. The ‘magic’ of The Mud Shop is built for everyone, but im realising that as we grow older, and hopefully wiser, it’s not for everyone. The doors certainly are welcoming for all, but we built this space for the people that truly care about something special. And because of this, its fascinating to realise that at any given moment, someone can walk in and change my life.

My first storefront in East Hollywood has been the most fulfilling thing I’ve done in my life. Being part of a neighbourhood gives purpose, and a sense off belonging. The Mud Shop is a portal into my heart and mind - seen through the glass separating us from the street, I like to think only the most curious and eager feel the magic that we’re trying to create. Opening a storefront changed my life - it made it more difficult, intense, grounding, and exciting. I owe the success of this 750 square foot space to a lot of people, and as we approach almost two years in business at this location, allow me to introduce a few special corners of the space.

a portal into someones heart and mind

To keep this newsletter brief, i’ll highlight a few aspects in our store that I feel exemplify the Mud Shop well. Everything in the store was built by hand, custom fitted to feel. I couldn’t afford an architect or designer, and I believe thats why the space has so much character. You can’t layer in soul through a 3d cad design using AI. This personal touch is something developed over time and touch.

Sazendo Sink

The company is nearly 5 years old, all started in a tiny garage in Echo Park. For almost 3 years, my closest water source was my bathtub. My studio was in the garage on street level, so a lot of trudging up and down the stairs. During these years, I learned to be extremely resourceful with my materials. Clay is a messy medium. Not having running water for so long taught me to efficiently recycle clay. To this day at the shop, we don’t throw any clay out, I still don’t waste water to clean my tools, and i’ve never cleaned out my wheel wells.

One of the first moments we had the store, my goal was to install a utility sink. Most ceramic studios have an industrial steel sink, indestructible and perfect for dirty work in the store. I opted for something, well… less so.

Sazendo is a tile manufacturer in a famous tile town called Gifu, just outside of Tokyo. It’s not all so romantic, I simply found them on instagram. But with some translation and wire transfers, we managed to have one shipped direct to our store. I'll never forget how immaculately packed the sink was via DHL. I reused those boxes too, something about cardboard in Japan is so much nicer than what we have here.

The sink is two parts - the basin, all hand tiled and finished, and a tower. We custom soldered piping to act as the spouts, and refurbished a 1920’s mechanics bench as the unit underneath.

The sink isnt the most functional. Actually, for one year after purchasing, the main valve wasn’t working - it was only just recently we finally fixed it and fully adhered the tower to the back wall. The tiles are obviously fragile, and the underneath clay trap leaks sometimes. However. This sink is in a small way a trophy to the hard work that has gone into this business. It’s a momento for myself to remember how struggle that garage was. So we keep the sink as immaculate as we can, and we are gentle with what we put into it. It’s our main water source for the company, it’s where we fill all of our buckets, mops, and rinse some brushes. It’s absolutely stunning, and something I personally can appreciate everyday. It’s like fine jewellery, and adds such a nice touch to the space.

Truck Furniture Cupboard

I first met Tok, the founder of Truck furniture in Osaka through my friend Justin Chung. I remember when Tok visited me in that garage, i’ve never seen his work, but I sent him off with many gifts, unknowing what a talented craftsman he really was. Years later, and after two visits to his showroom in Osaka, Tok eventually closed down his store in Los Angeles. Its as too logistically difficult, and expensive to maintain. At the time, I was just transitioning studio spaces, eagerly thinking of opening retail. Through Tok’s warehouse sale in LA, I bought this cupboard. I had no where to put the massive thing. It lived in pieces in my living room for weeks, as I just knew I had to have it. One day I would find the perfect home for it I told myself. Japanese oak, the most beautiful hardware, frosted sliding glass doors, and these perfect pull out draws for some flatter pieces.

The Truck Furniture cupboard is the centrepiece of my store now. It houses all of my important work, new and old cup designs, and contains most of my inventory at any given time. It photographs so well too.

Mud Shop Lighting

I am a cup maker by trade. I speak on this concept often, but I love the idea of permanence with ceramics. I make a lot of tableware pieces, and it’s what covers the bills most months at the store. But even cups find their way to the back of any cupboard, and any plate usually makes its way to the bottom of the stack, unused. The idea of one of my pieces hanging at all times really stuck with me, and it’s the real reason why I love making and selling lighting. Also, our illustrations look so great on them too.

The storefront came with zero overhead lighting. In fact, it came with zero lighting at all except a few plug in bulbs in the front which we tossed. At the time, I was experimenting, and luckily had 8 shades, and somehow a ton of cord to use. On opening, we hung 6 lights in the front as window display, in this offset fashion. In the back, we hung two pendants, over the work tables because we had a fully booked out workshop a few days before grand opening.

I had no money to invest in lighting at the shop when we opened. To this day, my first, second, thirds, fourth, fifth, six, and seventh light hang in the store. Over the years, i’ve made a healthy amount, and it’s fun to always look back and see how the work has developed.

Thank you for reading, see you soon - d

Before jumping into this week’s newsletter, I wanted to quickly just say hello and introduce myself. My name is Daniel, and I run a small bespoke ceramics company out in East Hollywood, Los Angeles. The Mud Shop has been a true labour of love, and im proud watching what was once a whim-feeling-wishful thinking-hobby blossom into a real business. It’s hard work, and a constant uphill battle. Most days im sending emails, and hunched over a spinning mass of goop. I forget to look up often, and this practice of writing is my friendly reminder to do so. It’s a reminder of what we are doing is good, and beautiful. And I like to think our work makes people smile, and feel as though their hard earned money is being spent on something real. Thanks for being here, and i’d love for you to join this journey. (This is all free, so no pledge please. Thanks for being here and sharing if you love)

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What a busy week looks like at your local pottery shop in Los Angeles

It's cool to see how theres somehow always projects being worked on and developing each month. The team is busy, and the only way this type of business works is having about 10 different projects happening at once. Clay takes time to dry, naturally, so maximising time between tasks is so important. The minute clay hits the wheel, theres about 5 different internal timers starting in my head, ticking away. Each bag of clay is anywhere from hours, to days of work - its all so interesting to think about. This brief article is just a showcase of what’s happening at the shop, and some insider looks into the projects at the Mud Shop.

Earth Day Collaborations with Orca Living

Molly and Steph from Orca Living have been friends of the shop for a long time. They are a landscape design company based out in LA, and this year we will be releasing 20 or so platters for Earth Day this month. Each one hand moulded, then painted by brush. Each plate is individual, so they will be sold as singular units, all photographed separately too. We left the flower to be random amongst them, so theres some natural variation.

Backyard Buildout

Every single square footage in the shop is valuable to us. For the longest time, our outdoor space has been under utilised. Just a dumping zone, dusty and always a mess. This month we were able to build this huge slanted covering. I wired in a kiln, and now the space is a fully functioning pottery space. The end goal is to have it as an extension of the studio where one team member will focus their daily duties back there. Im in the market for a massive slab roller too for ease in plate ware and clock production. I’ll be sure to show photos of it soon. This sketch is done by Harry, our engineer / contractor. Im going to have this framed and hung in memory of the transformation.

Cafe Cups for a new coffee concept in Sydney Australia : Lepine

I have a love hate relationship shipping down to Australia. Labels are SO expensive, but it’s awesome to think someone down there loves the Mud Shop. Last month we finished 100 cups for a new café / coffee roaster opening up in Sydney called Lepine. Stay tuned, they were a real labour of love and were so excited to have pieces in circulation there

Wholesale Fulfillments

I’ve spoken a lot on wholesale, but it’s increasingly more and more important to the success of our business. In reality, our work shouldn’t really be sold this way, but I continue to love and thrive off of the blending of communities around the ceramic. This is how I think of it - any margin I don’t capture when wholesaling, I hope to regain in natural marketing, exposure, and semi-regular reorders. This week, we’ll be packaging three orders. The first being Lepine (100 pieces), Pierce and Ward in Los Angeles (25 including a bunch of large vases), and an unfortunately lost parcel going to Highnoon General Store in Santa Fe (24 tumblers). UPS managed to lose an entire box full of our work. We guarantee everything, so this is just part of business. Moving forward, ill be insuring all outbound packages to wholesale clients

Product RnD : Pierce and Ward

This year has been a lot of working with interior designers. I think it’s possibly a factor of my substack being present? Just a different way of presenting work? Not totally sure, but it’s cool to be a small part of the conversation when it's time to source handmade ceramics with a special touch.

The best aspect of working with interior clients is that they push us as artists. Designers are particular, to say the least - but that why they are good at what they do! We’ve been working with Pierce and Ward for almost a year now, slowly developing some product for their store and interiors projects. They’ve pushed us to explore more matte finishes. Warmer toned colours, and more natural shapes. For example a ‘pear’ shaped vase (sort of easy to throw), versus less of a high shouldered one (more complex). These are two platters / colour palates we just pulled from the kiln. 16” serving platters. Less the shape, more the design style.

Ggiata Echo Park Lighting

If anyone here has been keeping up with our lighting projects, Ggiata in Los Angeles sort of launched our small light project a few years back. It feels as though they open a location every 6 months, and each time we are their in-house lighting team. Their Echo Park location is opening soon, and although I don’t have photos of the exact pieces, heres some from their Brentwood location, just last fall. The bar ‘pool table’ pendants are really special for us. They are all slab built, and hand formed. Two attachment points, and tons of space for us to illustrate on. This time around, we shrunk the length by 1 foot so it can fit in our kiln at the store. I think the structural integrity will hold better too. These are due last week of April, so we are kicking this into gear this week.

New Product at the Store - Plates, Lights, etc

One of the biggest challenges of running this company is fulfilling all these orders on a timely basis, but also stocking our store normally. Getting out new designs, new products is even more challenging. We’re always playing around at the shop. In the past 6 months, we’ve launched plateware and clocks, amongst a big range of designs as well. This week i’ll be loading some new Santa Fe tumblers in the kiln, along with a few clock designs. This butterfly vase has been sitting in our window for a few weeks, unlisted on the website.

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When I was trudging through the trenches of small business antics in my garage four years ago, I didn’t care so much about cleanliness. I thought being in an ‘open-air’ studio meant I could just let things be. I didn’t dust, I didn’t wipe equipment down. It’s not that I didn’t care, it was simply a conscious decision about what was the best way for me to spend my time. I only had so much time. Also part of the ‘potter’ aesthetic is to look a little dirty all the time anyways, so I guess I justified it that way. To dust, I would fire away on this cheap leafblower my mom gave me (I didn’t know what silicosis was at the time). I didn’t own a mop, and I had only one big sponge. I recently threw it away to upgrade to a better one from home depot. The only times the floors would be cleaned is when the rains came, and the place would flood from the foundation up. I would swish around that water with a deck brush to loosen up some of the chunks on the ground. I know it wasn’t a thing about laziness. I was the exact opposite in that regard. Thinking back, I prioritised putting the effort into the product, over the floors - and it sort of paid off. Eventually the space transformed, organised itself, and through an outside lens, the craziness of the garage translated into an organised workshop. Even though the floors were a tad dusty. Only now I start to think how hectic it all truly was.

The garage on Berkeley street was a stepping stone, and I always knew that secretly, even though it really felt like I could do ceramics out of there forever. I treated the space as a small sanctuary. Oddly, a man cave too. Peppered between pottery things and finished ceramics you would find a bunch of auto tools, and vintage Landcruiser parts. I valued the space more than anyone would know. It was my internal meeting point, and a place of stability. As life felt hazardous, spinning in crazy ways, I could convene downstairs. I built my career in that garage, met some lifelong friends, and my partner.

The business grew out of that space in Echo Park, into a white walled warehouse in downtown LA, and eventually where we are now - our first brick and mortar store. Through all of this, my perception of how I want to present my business evolved. I think theres immense value in feeling ownership over certain things. I love the idea of a ‘caretaker’. I’ve been a caretaker all my life. As a child; toys, legos, skateboards. In my young adulthood I became a caretaker of my first truck. A few watches now too. Last year I took the role of being the caretaker of this storefront. And this is why keeping things clean means so much to me. It’s a sense of preservation, and appreciation for the hard work that has been done to get here.

The definition of a potter isn’t too glamourous. A lot of people perceive it as an elegant art form, which sometimes can be true. But in reality, and in true practice, this is a damn fine blue collar job. It’s a stark reality, and i’ve seen this miscalculation firsthand while hiring a team, and working with a bunch of assistants over the years. the ones that understand the task thrive. The ones that think its arts and craft hour, don’t. The work is hard, the boxes are heavy, and the steps are tedious. The cleaning is even more so. And the pay is average. Only a few really make it, and it can rarely be a slow road. A strong team is critical to anyones success in this industry, and i’ve learned that over the years too. All this considered, the foundation of pottery is cleanliness. You cant work with dirty clay, and you shouldn’t work in a dirty environment.

I fantasise the ritual of cleaning at the shop often as the old shopkeeper sweeping up leaves in front of the store everyday. It’s a weird dream of mine to be this person with hiked up dungarees and a plaid shirt. To be the caretaker of a space is a special relationship. Especially when it’s your own, something built by the hands that work it everyday. It’s quite a privilege. And it’s why we sweep and mop almost everyday. It’s why our bathrooms are the cleanest on the block, and it’s why I stock it with nice toilet paper. It’s the small details someone like myself would catch if I was ever a first time visitor to the Mud Shop. Taking pride in floor level tasks are stepping stones to creating the best damn ceramics on the block. And it’s not easy to do, or sometimes easy to stomach as a business owner. The margins are thinner than ever, and to invest in time and effort in keeping a space tidy is harder than ever. I hope, if you’re reading this, and have intention to visit the mud shop, you’ll notice how clean the floor are, and realise by doing so makes us better potters.

Thanks for reading, D

Never thought I would write so much when I signed up for this pottery thing. What an interesting job this has been over the years. I don’t need to explain how grateful I am as I feel it everyday, even though sometimes it feels like all im doing is looking down at a pile of spinning goop. I should look up more at those tall ceilings in the studio. Since starting my business in a garage over 4 years ago, I feel as though I’ve learned little bits about a whole lot. Something along the lines of ‘jack of all trades’. Being flexible in this line of work is the name of the game. Most days, it’s not about pottery. Most days it’s just keeping my back straight and my head on right. Through all this, i’ve developed an underlying confidence in business and within myself. All at the same time refining a craft, once personally thought to be some fine art, but quickly realising that this is a damn fine blue collar job fueled by passion. The tendonitis in my elbows and forever dusty pants proves this. Being a leader is a new aspect of my work now too. This deserves its own written piece, but I refer to the company as “Danny D’s Mud Shop” much less now. More frequently as “The Mud Shop”, and it’s actually what we recently sign our pieces as.

The company month to month continues to prove to be such a versatile thing. In this crazy world, I think that it’s the key to success, especially as a small business that sells something so unessential like pottery. I compete with Walmart and Target goods unfortunately, but I think its fair to assume that my client base appreciates the ‘hand-made’ more, so they find value at the Mud Shop. Versatility in this medium is crucial. Retail, wholesale, partnerships, collaborators, dinners, classes, sponsorships, custom orders and the occasional photoshoot. These are all the different revenue streams month to month. I remember when I first began this company, running my cups in and out of a public studio on Sunset Blvd, so many early colleagues would despise the idea of wholesale. The thought of discounting your work so stores can profit seemed ‘cheap’. At the time, I sort of agreed. Year four in, wholesale can be so valuable as half of our monthly revenue. Also, who the hell am I to say no to a pay check. In this economy? Hell no. Unless theres zero synergy, im probably working with yall. This was my mentality back then, and to this date, I welcome most inquiries, assuming it makes sense for our time. Keeping the doors open to streams like these are what allows us to be a viable place of business, but at the end of the day you can only do so much with your time.

If you got past my intro, this small piece is about the idea of opportunity cost. It’s the moment I look down at my two hands, next to it a stack of purchase orders, and realise, ‘fuck, this is going to be a lot’. During these moments, I imagine if I had that spare time instead of that PO, perhaps I could develop a new design, a new shape, or just take the day off. But at the same time, the thought process is that my costs are damn high, and I could really use this revenue. Maybe even wishing I didn’t extend a complimentary 15% - this all matters at the end of the day. This article is a small articulation on some things i’ve learned over the years, and a few items I consider when taking on projects that maybe take more time than i’d like.

Within the Handmade

Opportunity costs present itself in different ways amongst varying businesses. In more admin based roles - perhaps finance and tech - careers like this, I feel like this is less of a consideration. These are really high generating businesses, where hiring more staff is the most immediate step to solving volume issues. When I chat with my accountant, he always tells me how he’s fully booked. I suppose you can only account for a limited amount of people until every slot in your week is booked with meetings. My guess is that he will probably hire this out. Now, with ceramics, or anything handmade, this ‘cost’ is so prevalent. We sell handmade goods, typically 30-100$ each. AI tools won’t save us here. AI isnt going to mop my floor, and throw my next wholesale order faster. I can only make one cup at a time, using my hands and my brain. If I sell a cup for 54$ to a client, and a similar piece is sold to a different one for 34$ because they are using it at their café, theres a few considerations I am making. Im in the business of handmade goods. Products like mine don’t just spit itself out of a machine or computer model. Every piece is touched by hand at minimum 30 times. Hours of work go into each one. But the idea here is what does the 20$ difference between cup sales represent? Who is seeing the piece? Is it being used daily. What market is it in? Are the buyers nice, and easy to work with? If a café is willing to pour cortados in my cup in the middle of Paris, across the street from the Louis Vuitton head office, AND you’re easy to work with - hot damn im going to put my neck out there a little to get you a good price, and a cool design.

What i’ve done over the years to maximise my opportunity costs

In the beginning of my career, I did everything. Obviously, you have to start somewhere, and understand how each one of the business gears grind. I would work 7 days a week. I kept the production days flexible, because my work needs that. Things dry at different times, etc. But Thursdays were my non-negotiable order fulfilment day. Sometimes it would even bleed into Friday, but I was always rushing to get the packages to the post before EOD so they would be dispatched in time. It was only till last year I was able to step away from this role. Im proud to say I haven’t packaged an orders in months, even though sometimes I miss the simplicity and meditation of the task. Product fulfilment was always a cost analysis for me. The faster I go, the lower my costs for each cup is. To this day, I still lose money on each package outbound. By the time I consider the labour, the materials, the label, and time spent, I easily can lose 1-4 $ per order. I take account for these costs in my pieces, and it all makes sense (I think) because of the nature of the lower material costs of clay.

To this date, the business has improved because I have a strong team to take over some tasks off my list - packing, cleaning, and kiln work. I believe im still the best vacuum-er in the shop, so I tag myself in frequently. But I suppose this is just the nature of growing, and building a team. I need to take on the 100$/hour job, and hire out the 25$ one. It’s such a curt thought with all this business stuff as I hate the finance side of things, but it’s a reality I had to come upon once things started to get really busy.

Don’t over think it too much, just be aware of the choices you’re making, because they add up. Sometimes, just say ‘fuck it’. Theres no need to be so finicky about the whole thing. Dissecting each moment of each day will drive you mad, I promise. There was a period in time where thats what I thought about all the time. I feel as though everyone knows that guy that writes out every 15 minutes in his planner. Respect, but it’s psychotic. Did you plan the time to plan your time for the day in your journal? Odd lol.

My tip to beginner potters, or anyone in a handmade industry. Get paid, obviously, but perhaps if theres 5 projects in any given month able to be completed, one can be for the love of the game. Discount, no problem. Just make sure you’re covered. I do this all the time. Not everyone can get one, but if theres opportunity to work on something so interesting, don’t get caught up too far with the costs of doing it. Our custom work, for example, is a showcase of this. A lot of times some pieces can take so long to make. We’re working on a teapot for a new client in the UK, a really amazing interior design firm. We don’t make teapots. They are exceptionally difficult to build. 3-4 attachments, and thats just to get the canvas set. But truthfully, this client is paying us to grow as artists, and thats a wonderful concept. I gave them a super competitive discount too for these pieces, because maybe it’ll open doors to a whole new product line.

Overcommitting yourself is the worst way to maximise yourself. This one is simple, but my experiences early in my business maybe explains this well. Year one I was saying yes to everyone. Everything from tiny commissions, to weird wholesale orders, to odd collaborations that would lead to nothing. Revenue is revenue, especially when the business is so green. But, if you overcommit to too many projects, thats the ultimate negative opportunity cost. One thing at a time, at least in the beginning for a small maker. If your leads times suddenly balloon to double because the workflow is on 6 different projects, you’re costing yourself time and a huge headache. I see this with a lot of woodworkers, friends of mine. You can only make one cut at the time. If you take too long in between cuts and joints, they’ll warp, and you’ll have to start over again. Then your client is unhappy. Be conscious of your time spent and your workflow pace. Plan ahead, profit later.

Hope this article proved to be interesting to read. I wrote this on my day off, a beautiful sunny Tuesday in Los Angeles. If you’re reading this, please come visit our shop in East Hollywood. We would love to welcome you in!

“A person who works with their hands is a labourer. A person who works with their hands and their brain is an craftsman. A person who works with their hands, their brain, and their heart is artist.’ - Marco Pierre White

If you’re reading this, and are an owner of one of my pendants, or plan on investing in one some day, thank you for being part of this journey.

The Idea of Permanence.

By trade, im a potter. A lot of people use the word “ceramicist”, but potter feels more grounded, as ceramacist can be hard to say. Most specifically, i’m a cup maker, and selling these, ironically, keep the lights on. It’s the way to pay the bills, cover overhead, and allow payroll to clear. Im grateful for it, and from an accessibility standpoint, allows the Mud Shop to service a larger clientele base. That being said, over the years, ive learned that even someone’s favourite cup will eventually find its way in the back of a cupboard. Its destiny being only to gather dust, and at best, come up for a gasp of air after a good spring cleaning. These small pieces tend to be transient, and in this materialistic world, it’s rare to cling onto only one of anything. Im personally a victim of collecting too many things. This idea of transiency, and an exploration of permanence, is why I began exploring lighting as a cup maker. A light fixture is something that simply exists, and demands a high level of commitment. I hope my writing doesn’t make it feel so deep, as this concept is rather simple I think. Lighting is something you choose to hang over a special place in your home, hopefully forever, and this is what gets me excited to make them. Permanence within art is a rare concept. The average consumers these days are constantly on the hunt for something new, something small, and hopefully affordable. I think thats why the vintage trade is so popular - the rush of finding a good deal, or a ‘holy grail’, is unmatched. I’ve written on this topic before on my newsletter as it has sat with me constantly over the years. Only recently I can reflect and begin to consider why. I produce hundreds of cups on any given month. But for every hundred, perhaps a beautiful light finds its way into my kiln. I think of them as conversation starters, something to look at everyday, and a means to illuminate a special place in a home. And so many considerations have to go into properly making a ceramic pendant.

Building With Intention

There are a few key aspects I had to learn while developing ceramic pendants. All real trial and error moments, and a lot of texts back and fourth with the owner of Conway Electric, the company where I source all my cord.

Light Diffusion : On paper, ceramic pendants don't fully make sense as a functional lighting option. Firstly, they don’t diffuse light. Unless a paper thin sheet of porcelain is used (try shipping this successfully), the finished material won’t radiate. For this reason our pendants use different light diffusion techniques to allow for light transfer. Of course the top down is primary, however cutting holes, little ‘ears’ that act as folds in the clay to shoot light downwards, and most recently sewing in fabric in spots where ceramic was cut out (see below images). The fabric concept is our first take into a multimedia approach to ceramics at the store. Cloth on clay. I haven’t been so excited for something in a long while. We hand bore out each hole that the needle will eventually thread through. We also leave the thread visible, kind of like a raw edge on a pair of denim. All these techniques, can only be accomplished at this perfect timing in the clay’s drying stage, it’s really finicky. I’ve cracked a lot of pendants through trial and error here.

Weight : Secondly, fired clay is heavy. There are certain considerations with our throwing method, and size restrictions that allow the pendant to easily install. I’ve learned over 6 lbs, a safety ‘aircraft cord’ is needed to relieve pressure on the internals, which sometimes isn’t appealing for interior design, and not user friendly either.

Hardware : This was possibly the most challenging part of this journey, and im still workshopping this. I must have spent thousands on random lamp parts. I always gravitate towards antiqued brass components, but they are pricey and difficult to source. Fitment is always an issue too. Calculating the shrinkage rates of clay, and accommodating metal fixtures with clay is still a challenge. In the back of my shop, I have a wooden crate completely overflowing with a graveyard of small pendants with various top holes, all wrong for a fitment, or too shallow for a bulb. Maybe i’ll make a hanging wind chime with them all one day.

Through all these struggles, came about a product that im proud of, born out of pure commitment towards developing interesting ceramic lighting. For us at the Mud Shop, everything is formed around the technique of carved illustration. It’s what we do, and what we are known for, I like to think. I love lighting, as it’s a large canvas for us, and challenges us constantly - primarily due to the odd angle our illustrations are seen as they hang above a table. We have to rethink a lot of what we do as we approach this different form of ceramic. We also consider how light integrates with the carving, and most recently, what cloth patterns we can use to complement the shade.

Ggiata, the first permanent introduction to our ceramic lighting

I remember so fondly when I first met the owners of Ggiata. They were a connection through my friend Andrew, the owner of a popular local café, Telegrama. Max, Noah and Jack visited my old Lincoln Heights warehouse studio years ago, intending to only purchase a few cups for their new Highland Park location. This sandwich shop was the first of their locations to offer seating inside, so the team was particularly excited to outfit some special pieces. Their visit was just after I finished wiring my first set of lights. A Snoopy Red Baron one, a shark light, and this really great panther pendant that I accidentally broke trying to display off of a C-stand without sand bags (stupid).

The most gratifying part of running a small business within LA, or anywhere, is connecting with likeminded people. To relate on the struggles and small successes that are possible in our respective industries. I love asking how the sandwich business is these days. Ceramics can be so different, but we oddly all can commiserate and joy over similar things. Max, Jack, and Noah effectively launched my lighting career, and gave me a platform. They left buying zero cups that day. Instead, we signed our first commercial contract for their new location in Highland Park. Only a 15 minute walk from my home, and as an artist, it’s the ultimate privilege to have work in my community for people to see daily. We’ve since built out 3 locations, and onto our fourth.

Okay, so you’ve sort of done it - Now what?

The constant question always persists : How my lights could be better? A better product for my clients, for interior designers, for myself. How do you fully offer something that has infinite customisations? Somedays, it feels like an impossible feat. Try cataloguing the infinite. Also these pieces sometimes sell faster than I can properly photograph them.

The team and I are constantly exploring product customisation for our lighting - everything from different shapes, styles, cut outs, and illustrations. It's these projects that force my team and I to improve, find solutions, and gain new skills. Like adding a tool to a tool chest.

These days, on any given month we could have 10-20 lights on order. I have lights hanging in NYC, restaurants around the country, almost 6 different commercial spaces in Los Angeles, and in a hamburger spot in Tokyo. Im developing my first sconce with Peyton currently - due at the end of month - simply because we have two on order for a private residential project in Hawaii. Four more need to be complete to outfit an installation at Lawson Fenning on Melrose for a week long display during Design Week. Again, we aren’t product designers. We aren’t electrical engineers, or anything quite close. Were potters with a vision, and a pair of wire strippers. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed this small retrospective :)

Im going to preface this small piece of writing with a little background about Danny D’s Mud Shop, and how this small garage endeavour has become something i’m very proud of. The business is about to be four years old, and now we operate a small brick and mortar store with five people part of the team.

Ceramics was never something I thought would be a vocation for me. I began my journey 2019 while living in Canada, not too long ago. I remember so adamantly focusing on this craft, mainly as a way to branch out my interests, and use my hands a little more. I also remember so adamantly promising to myself I would never sell ceramics, as it was for relief, rather than money. To this day, almost all the gifts I give are pieces made by my hands, which is really unique. Similar to if one of your friends gifts you a homemade load of sour dough. Something about the warmth of fresh bread has a lot of simulates to feeling the throw marks out of your favourite coffee cup.

I started my company in a garage - maybe 100 square feet, if that. It was on Berkeley Ave, just on the cusp of Silverlake in Los Angeles. Directly on the street too, so a very integrated part of the neighbourhood. It was February 2022 and I was recovering from a case of covid, staying at home ‘resting’ while I had a hotel restaurant job. My previous career was as a sommelier, but thats another piece of writing for a different day. I was away for about two weeks, technically sick, but definitely not bed ridden. Each day, I would spend the majority of it in my cold, damp garage throwing pottery. My local studio so generously rented me a wheel for 250$ for the two weeks, and somehow I convinced my landlord to install power into that garage for free. The initial idea with that space was to just have a tool shed, and a place to park my truck. I never thought this space would be where I started my company. This studio was a place to express my creativity, and tinker. I wanted a Van Neistat - inspired workshop; quirky, functional, crowded but tasteful, and ultimately a way to explore. I bought a couch from some frat kids on craigslist, and quickly donated it as I completely overestimated the square footage. I hung my bike from the ceiling, bought my first ever workbench - to this day our shipping table at the store - and build my first ever peg board. One thing that the garage studio gave me was confidence. It’s where I jotted down my first ‘business model’, or what I thought was one. It was where I made my initial plan, and devised the framework for what I thought the Mud Shop could be. 3500$ a month in sales. Thats all I wanted. I figured thats about one sale a day. On top of this, I would work at a local wine bar to serve two days a week, and that would pay me rent. This combination, would ideally allow me to exist as a freelance artist within LA - camp whenever I wanted to, allot me freedom, and just be. This was certainly the idea, however once orders started coming in my workdays began to stack up.

I somehow lasted almost two years in this space, and it possible only because my nose was to the grindstone. Like truly, on it. I didn’t know what else was possible, and I didn’t have any time to ever consider upgrading my space. This company was built from truly the ground up. A workbench, a wheel, a truck that can haul things around, and a few boxes. Naturally things were slow. It was only myself. I bought a scale once I realised I could save money on weighing my packages more accurately. And it took me nearly 3 years to buy a properly efficient printer. Just last week, I replaced my first sponge I started the company with. It’s not cheapness, rather just the mentality of ‘if it aint broke, don’t fix it’. Im proud of how it’s grown, but truly, it was all done one step at a time. When people walk into the now storefront, and mention ‘Wow, this space is so beautiful’, my response is always that it was built one cup at a time.

From experience and earnest, this is a small ‘essentials’ list to beginning a professional pottery journey - whether it be a company, a hobby, or exploration within other, but similar crafts. In no order at all ;

1. Large Equipment : start slowly, but buy the best. If this is something you want to truly pursue, you need to set yourself up for success. A proper industrial pottery wheel for sure. If it’s a budget restriction, check out craigslist, or some second hand options - but starting this with a cheap Amazon wheel just won’t cut it.

   1. Brent, Laguna, or Shimpo branded wheels

   1. Skutt Kilns

   2. Slab rollers by Shimpo

2. Small Equipment : Start slow here. There are SO many gadgets to buy within the pottery world. Things as small as trimming tools. Clay types. Keep everything simple in the beginning, and slowly build. It can become extremely overwhelming quickly, especially if money is tight or space is limited. I didn’t have a sink for 2 years at that garage. I would fill water out of my bathtub, and recycle all my clay. Now, four years in, we are extremely efficient with water, and our company is full sustainable. Zero clay hits the trash (unless it hits the floor), and this is all because the struggle within that garage. We adapted, and became better potters out of it. My main throwing tools is the cheap starter kit ‘spear’, and an old paint scraper. You can use an expired library card too. It's sort of like your first car being a new Mercedes. Nahhh, you need the beater in your twenties to appreciate, and learn about cars.

   

3. Monetary Management. When I started my pottery company, I wanted to focus on the pottery, not the admin. Hire an accountant and bookkeeper combo. It’s worth the couple hundred dollars a month, especially at the end of the year. Focus on what you know, and honestly, what you love. Id rather spend the little money upfront to allow me to hone my craft, and make more cups. Opportunity cost!

4. A mental pact : Allow yourself to find peace with making your hobby… your new profession. This is a unique one, and bear with me here. Making your hobby into a profession, is a very narrow edge to walk along. Burnout, falling out of love, and resentment are all frequent emotions and feelings that come about with this transition, and I’ll be brutally honest - I feel it frequently. This job isn’t easy and you really have to carry a passion for this industry. It’s backbreaking, and will test you day to day. Commitment to this profession is what keeps the craftsman, crafting. You won’t become rich from this. Very few people find success, however in my opinion, day to day, there are very few more fulfilling professions out there. We make people happy, and spread creativity, joy - and I really believe in this craft. My advice is to just be honest, and make an internal decision to truly pursue this profession even through the tough days.

5. A (business) plan : I briefly touched on this in the introduction, however this touches on the idea of ‘By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.” Each person’s goals will be different. Just make a plan. It can be so simple as writing on a yellow legal pad - which is what I did. It’ll ideally be full of content such as price points, quantity, yearly goals, financials, social media, etc.

   

6. A workout regiment : I intend to be doing pottery for another 30 years. The only way I can achieve this is if I take care of my body. Asides from the select days to move clay around and some extra wedging hours, pottery is a fairly sedentary lifestyle. There are days where I am at the wheel for 8 hours - no different than a desk job, except the posture is worse. To keep a straight back is to keep a strong back. Stretch your hips, your wrists (most important), and moisturise your skin.

7. Storage : No one ever told me how many ‘things’ you need to run a tiny ceramics company. Boxes, everywhere. The equipment can be chunky too. No wonder public studios are always so big. Just to store drying pieces can be a challenge. Maximising space and considering where all things go before you even acquire them is huge. Plan ahead!

8. Properly functioning website : I tell this to every new potter. Regardless if the plan is to hit every market each weekend or not, client acquisition is critical. If theres no time to build out a functioning website, at minimum have a splash page, and start gathering those emails. When you’re ready, you’ll already have a client base, and thats powerful.

9. A positive outlook : Don’t be the grumpy neighbourhood potter. Remember - you’re doing this because you freaking love it. You are doing this to share your creativity, and hopefully make some beautiful gifts, or even pay your bills. I tell my team all the time - people are taking the time out of their day to visit our website, or even our store in person. There are so many people selling cups, but they chose us. They deserve our time, or at minimum, a simple hello. It’s a privilege to do what we do everyday. Also, the work just comes out better with a good attitude. The colours pop more.

   

10. Wholesale : don’t fully downplay this aspect of the business. It’s not easy. Your margins are cut by 50% generally. But wholesale is what keeps my business consistent, and keeps my team engaged all year long. Wholesale in many ways is my marketing expense too - I lump the two. What I lose in margin, I gain in exposure and community building. Last year, we did a popup in Tokyo, and another one with our client in Boulder. True highlights of our year. But if you’re a solo operator, my advice here is to be selective, and don’t say yes to everything. It’s a balancing game around opportunity costs.

    

11. A Full Phone Book : I truly believe this is a big reason why I am still operating to this day. What I mean by ‘full phone book’, is having the right people on speed dial, and utilising the relationships around you. When my kiln breaks, I have 3 people to call. When I need merch, done. Electrical problems? Woodworking? I have a shipping broker, clay rep, seasonal help, etc. Utilise the community that supports you. Some people are shy with this, but I believe in leaning in when it’s appropriate, and always offer value from your end too; if its favours, friendship, or money.

12. A new hobby : half joking here, half not. As a person who gave up his main hobby for a profession, some days I find myself hobby-less. It’s an odd realisation . Ceramics don’t feel like work anymore, so theres peace in this idea. However, it’s important to find things outside of work to stimulate your mind. Sometimes, I admit, I will play a video game. Recently, it’s been writing on here. I try to read before bed, but im fried. It’s an irony actually that most people look towards art for hobbies after work. Im the opposite. Sometimes I like to be on a computer after work writing a newsletter.

Thank you for reading. I gain a lot of peace and fulfilment writing these lately. Substtack feels lovely, and organic. I appreciate you being here. If you’re ever in LA, please come visit our store and spend some time chatting ceramics with us.

You can track the evolution of certain artists by developments of their pegboards over the years. It’s undeniable theres true art form around nicely curated storage. Functionality or not, hanging tools plays with negative space, color coordination, some compulsive organisation tendencies, and just pure aesthetic. When I enter a workshop, my gaze naturally leans towards the wall. It’s really the first thing you notice, and it opens up the conversation on so many things. Tools. Beauty in art. For myself, theres nothing more satisfying than an old timer’s perfect garage workspace. It’s a sort of examination of the inner workings of an artist, and a glimpse into processes off the canvas. In my case, off the ceramic. Finding beauty in this super-practical, and rather blue collar method of storage is an odd thing. And if you’re this type of person that pulls joy from this, well, theres nothing to really explain. Something scientific within your brain connects, and gives this awesome satisfaction.

Ever since moving to Los Angeles, every part of my life has somehow incorporated pegboard. Every studio over the years. Even every kitchen i’ve had too. It’s a chaotic type of art form, derived from simple organisational skills auto mechanics have used forever. Pegboard just looks good. It works well in a shed, and makes any boring kitchen feel like a well curated place of industry. I see it over and over again, specifically with my friends online who cook and make content for a living.

For myself, perhaps the initial draw was consistently not having enough space to store my tools. I remember signing my lease in Echo Park, the location of my first ceramics studio, with a tiny 70 sq ft galley kitchen. Out of necessity, this led into my first install. The garage studio wasn’t too much larger either, so my first framed pegboard existed there too. It held a lot of car parts at the time, as this early on I hadn’t even started the company. But what i’ve learned transitioning my old garage - a place to simply hang and work on my trucks - to a fully functioning ceramics studio, is that any storage is good storage. And within the midst of absolute chaos of a studio, theres still beauty within how simple tools can be hung. The car parts began to wane, and that valuable space became a home for paint scrapers, pliers, trimming tools, brushes, and drills to mix glaze.

My second space - a large warehouse in industrial Lincoln Heights

My second studio was built out of necessity; we were just growing. I loved the garage, but if this ceramics company was to be anything, I had to formalise a few parts of the production, which required space and resources. I needed a secure spot for my kiln, and to limit travel. My Lincoln Heights studio became a moment for accelerated growth. Maybe even too fast. Even though the space cumulatively was about 1000sq ft, storage became a problem fast. It’s all about finding a place to hold your tools, and the ability to access them easily. So I built another peg board wall. 12 feet across by 8 feet tall. I must have spent 200$ on just metal clips alone from Home Depot to hang things. Efficiency aint cheap.

Due to the sheer size of this wall, it was my first time I could showcase all the paints and glazes that make the work. Half the board held jars, the other half held tools. Randomly, a leaf blower. Randomly, a pair of unused Redwing boots too. One day i’ll break those in. Still a bunch of Landcruiser parts we well because I can’t stray too far from my roots.

In this space, the use of pegboard solidified itself within my artistry. In between waves of ceramic production, I would catch myself endlessly rearranging the wall. It’s one of those chases that never ends. Sort of like renovating a home. What should this damn wall look like? What’s the ideal? It’s a never ending puzzle. You have your foundational pieces, and you work around them. For myself, it was randomly a skid plate to a 1988 FJ62, an ancient and perfectly preserved Crescent Tools Wrench holder, and a Milwaukee Sawzall. All the little things would just fill in the gaps.

Where we are now - The Mud Shop - 4855 Fountain Ave

Somehow, i’ve owned a retail store for over a year. An entire separate Substack I think is deserving of our build out, so ill be brief here. At the Mud Shop, our pegboard transformed into a highly functional, but structural component to the space. If you’ve had the chance to visit the store, the first thing is to typically look up. We have 30 foot bow-truss ceilings from the 50s. The space, ironically, is smaller than my previous studio in Lincoln Heights. However, it feels doubly as large because of the immensely high beams. Our natural movement here was to build vertical, and store upwards - and this is exactly what we did here. Obviously things hung 9 feet and above are all aesthetic, or at least without a ladder. This wall we built, which is 18 feet tall, serves as a central place to hold equipment, but also separates our production studio from my ‘fulfilment’ area. The far side of the wall holds nearly every box size known to man, stacked upwards. This is the only way we can achieve what we can in the small space we have.

Im spending time to write this because I find it fascinating to examine the evolution of a space, and the balance between functionality and aesthetics within a workplace. I’ve been practicing it for years now. The right balance is difficult to achieve, and everyone has a different definition of ‘balance’. For us, considering the demand of our work, we lean towards functionality. However, the pieces we curate and decide to hang up, all hopefully contain their own inner beauty, ultimately merging and bringing the artisanal workshop to life.

Below, some of my favourite pegboards

This newsletter isnt necessarily about handmade plateware. Rather, it’s an honest reflection from a maker selling ceramics over the past year, and why this art form feels more important than ever. If you’re new here, this newsletter is written by myself, Danny, the lead of Danny D’s Mud Shop - a storefront, online community, and place for creativity in East Hollywood in Los Angeles. I wake up most mornings before work, with a lot on my mind - and I find joy sharing it here. I try to write about business, ceramics, inspirational trips for us, events, and our mission plan; to introduce fun, beautiful, and thoughtful art into world. Im not a writer, so excuse the mistakes - im a potter. So I appreciate you being here.

Im not doing ceramics to create some sort of empire. Nor is leaving behind pieces of artwork once im gone important to me. I do ceramics for a purposeful existence. To be honest, I do it because it feels awesome to wake up knowing ‘work’ is so simple as creating something with your hands. And ironically at this point in my life, im highly unemployable. I do ceramics to ultimately put something beautiful out in the world, and to put food on the table. Im writing this small piece not because I find my work important, but rather I find the importance of work when it’s handmade. And im grateful to be a tiny contributing part ton the dialogue most days. At least in Los Angeles.

The past year has been particularly challenging for many reasons. It was the first entire fiscal year that we operated a store. We didn’t miss one week from our promised business hours. Im particularly proud of that. Our team grew - Peyton, Dalton, Olivia, Mia. Moments of Kate and Christine when things got extra busy. Our storefront shouldn’t ever have 6 people working. Some days, it’s absolute chaos. Although chaos mixed with a little bit of hard work typically has panned out for me. Ever since leaving that garage where I did everything solo, nothing has really changed all too much. Some systems have improved, but the essence of what makes Danny D’s Mud Shop a concept, remains. A human touch.

When someone walks into my store, the highest compliment I can get is about authenticity within the work. It can be a tricky word. Authentic to whom? It sometimes can be naturally pompous or self important, but approached with a touch of graciousness, I can appreciate it. Especially within art, where there so much BS and authenticity gets thrown around everywhere. I’ve always described the ceramics we make with terms like ‘quirky’, ‘unique’, even sometimes ‘weird’. Particularly the early work where inspiration was driven from tattoos, and truly ‘quirky’ illustrations. Perhaps these descriptions I give are a knee jerk response fetching for a sense of humility, something I’ve always felt comfortable with for my entire life, even in the midst of success. But recently, ever since I began moulding plateware in the store, the word ‘human’ has sprung about. Human; as in the awareness that a real person made this. When you hold a piece of handmade ceramic, the gaze immediately directs itself to the imperfectness of it; simple features a machine would struggle to create. To me, these features make the piece ideal. What I look for are fingerprints, tool marks, unusual pits and valleys within the clay body, inconsistencies within the finish, and the simple irregularities of the paint - indicative of a fading brush stroke done by hand. Machines can’t replicate this quality. Even moulds can barely reproduce this mystery in a beautiful piece of finished pottery.

As a collector of ceramics at home, I consistently gravitate towards the ones that feel this way. Let me be frank, I own a lot of pottery. I’ve been collecting Bauer for years, and old Wallace China too. Many of these examples were printed out of a factory - ‘handmade’, but not really. I mainly collect them for the inspiration and colours, but also the function. 1940s nesting bowls in my cupboard, uranium infused orange glazed plates, and bright yellow tea pots I shamelessly will never actually use. Even all these pieces, my hand always gravitates towards the other side of my collection. Many of them hand made in Japan, sourced from our travels, and brought home carefully knowing that a new friend made them. They are slightly crooked, wobbly, and on paper, a lot less functional. Expensive too. The plates and bowls that hold a feeling of human connection are what I find myself using everyday. And I hope that the people who support my work feel this too. A sense of authenticity, presenting through a human touch. I love how my plates stack oddly. My favourite being when they are perched high on the shelf at eye level, the irregularities are highlighted even more from the way they rest. Or on the dinner table, and the bistro-inspired line work on the rim fading in and out of saturation, simply because the brush ran out of paint. It can bring a boring dinner to life. It can introduce a new conversation at that same table. And, in odd ways, bring joy to very simple moments during the day.

What I’ve learn through this practice of making these things by hand, and ultimately selling them, is an immense appreciation for the craft. A serious test of patience. I believe that over the years (we turn 5 in 2026), I am finally understanding the importance of hand made goods. Flooded within a crooked ecosystem of fast-fashion, and cheaply made goods, I hope that work like mine, and so so many colleagues around me, are able to stand out and find people that appreciate this too.

Thanks for reading! If you like this, check out our website dannydsmudshop.com, we also have an internal newsletter, and a storefront in Los Angeles at 4855 Fountain Ave

Recently theres been a lot of chats about what Danny D's Mud Shop will 'scale' to. What the 'growth' projections tend to be, and what the targets are by end of year. Im a believer in goal setting here, thats for sure. It's so important to set your mind up to hit a target, drive to a destination, and hopefully exceed expectations - thats always where you want to end up as a small business. Not hitting goals can lead to a lot of unfortunate things - not being able to cover expenses - rent, staffing, materials - or it could just be a jab at ones own self confidence. Ive been recently having moments of high expectations, with much lesser outcomes. Im working on it.

As things grow, and progress nicely, I attempt to remind myself why I began this entire journey of ceramics in the first place. What this art form means to me, what running a small operation was intended for, and the intentionality behind the work. Hopefully I can convey this newsletter with some brevity. I'll be brief, because this could quickly turn into an essay, but the whole idea of Danny D's Mud Shop was to build a life full of free time, and freedom to do anything at any given time. When I first moved to LA, I was working restaurant jobs, and noticing I had zero opportunity to just pick my stuff up and go to that birthday party, or that random camping trip. I started this company to give myself this opportunity for flexibility. It's ironic, as things get busier, less and less time is allocated to things like this, but again, im working on it. I talk about finding balance a lot, and this is a big part of it.

Danny D's Mud Shop was never about money, but I understand I need to charge what I charge to be able to afford to operate in such an intense market like Los Angeles. What things cost only 3 years ago, and to what they cost now is pretty drastically different. Also to afford a healthy living and provide for not only myself, is a big reason to why our fanciest tumblers are almost 100$. Danny D's Mud Shop was never about money. It was always about time. It was always about expression of art, and flexibility in work flow to best present that expression of art. I loved ceramics, and still do to this day, even though my day to days are so intense and full of production and emails. I'll never lose that passion, even though recently a lot of internet conversations lean towards not monetising a hobby.

I've had moments of intense growth over the years. We are almost 4 now, which is crazy (we will have a big community event at the studio in a few months, stay tuned). I remember so intensely the moment when a few of my videos started going viral on instagram. That was exhilarating, but honestly so miserable. I felt success with orders, but angst of not being able to fulfil them on a timely basis. I've never sold so many t-shirts in my life. I remember moving into a new studio, and the intricacies of building out a space was so expensive, and time consuming. For the first time ever, my entire production was within one space. I've never seen such efficiency for my work before. It was exciting, but it also meant overhead - we had to sell a few more pieces each month to make it all work. And recently, the store. I feel so privileged to be in this space, truly. I have worked so, so hard to get this space, and I've invested so much to make it what it is. We got so lucky that the landlord knew about our work, and was a supporter. Potters should always be working in beautiful spaces, but the reality is, most do their practice in a dusty garage, or a dimly lit basement. It's not an industry of wealth - in fact it's an industry of struggle, and aching bones. So for us to be at 4855 Fountain Ave, I feel so grateful. Thats why I sweep and mop, everyday. And I always have smile on whenever someone chooses to spend time out of their day to come into our shop.

Intense growth is something people always idealise to be good. Scaling a business is suggestive of fast growth. Both of these things being assumed to be beneficial part of any business. But im here, writing on a foggy Thursday morning before heading to work, that sometimes intense growth is not all that good. I remember so clearly almost 3 years ago, being a one man show in my garage, and watching an influx of orders come in. Remind yall, everything is handmade, slowly. I used to print order slips so zoomed out on my computer, that I could fit 16 orders a page. I could hand cut each one, and stack them like a deck of playing cards, knowing well that my "2 week lead time", was actually "2 months". I needed a magnifying glass to view the item. It was intense. I don't like taking peoples money, and not having a product immediately, it's a form of debt to me. I don't like debt.

Intentionally slow growth is an idea that Danny D's Mud Shop lives by. We still make every single piece by hand. This month, we'll ship out at least 500. Even from a production standpoint, we nurture each piece, care for the art, and the process. As we approach one year at the store next month, and four years in business - my goal as a operator of a small business in LA, is to nurture this moment. Like one of my favourite quotes, "I wish there was some way to know that you're in the good ole days, before you actually left them." The intentionality of growing slow, I like to think, keeps Danny D's Mud Shop in the "good ole days".

We're so grateful for people that use our cups daily. Hopefully they are still holding up.

Much love, Danny D

And why its important to me, and how we do it here

Hello again! It's Danny here, squeezing in a brief newsletter to say hello, but also touch on an important aspect of what we do here - something I've never actually chatted about. I suppose, when things are naturally fitting within a moving system, the operator doesn't even blink and eye, it's a feature that is so fluid, almost invisible. And for us, thats sustainability!

As a lot of people know, pottery has a lot of 'trim' waste. Every time we throw, we produce a clay sludge. The throwing water quickly becomes a slurry. And from my experience of never having a sink for years and years (I started this company in a garage 4 years ago), and not having a proper place to pour this anywhere, I learned how to utilise this to my best ability. I learned that a true potter never needs to clean their tools - mine live in the slop water indefinitely. I use cheap tools only. I learned that it wasn't necessary to clean the throwing wheel well - quick touch ups are neccessary, but a full clean is silly, and a waste of time. This slop water, I now mix with all my trimming. Crusty bits of dried clay from working down a bumpy bottom of a freshly thrown cup. This slop is then inexpertly thrown onto a plaster board outside, to bake in the sun for half a day, eventually coming inside to slowly cure and knead into something usable. The porcelain mix we use, has barely any speckles in it. The recycled clay has a bunch, and honestly, I prefer it. It gives it more texture, and grain. Both are good, just a preference. So if you are drinking out of my cup this morning and theres an immense speckle, and a slight hue of warm beige, it's likely recycled.

At Danny D's Mud Shop, we throw zero clay in the trash, and pour zero clay down the drain. We are (almost) fully sustainable, and it's something I never had time to touch on, but im endlessly proud of this. It was a necessity, sort of born out of not having proper tools... and now we are here, on top. It keeps our costs lower, and the drains and environment a little cleaner.

We are meticulous with cleaning, any clay that hits the floor, we dispose of. Kaiya, our shop dog, sheds a lot. Daily maintenance is a must here, and whenever y'all visit, you'll see, the shop is fairly spotless.

Here are few other ways the Mud Shop is sustainable

1. All excess trim pieces are formed into small balls if we enough, and pressed off of little wrangler press mold. These little souvenir coins are a perfect shelf display, or even chopstick holder. We offer these for FREE! Any purchase in store or online receives one of these. Sometimes even in brown clay. If you come into the store with 5 of these, ill send you home with a free cup :)

2. Charms - Christmass ornaments, stay tuned this year.

Thank you for supporting our work, and enjoying our newsletters! Much love,

Danny