When I was in my early 20s, I interviewed for and was in-the-room-offered a job at a sign shop in Austin. I stepped out of the building and had a panic attack in the parking lot. Then… a wave of relief washed over me when I realized that I didn’t have to take the job. Or any job. I could and WOULD dedicate my life to making art and music. I went home, booked an art show at a local gallery and a tour for my band, and got to work.
Immediately, I had turned painting and drawing and playing in bands into jobs. And that’s fine and good and great! No regrets. I cranked out art, zines, and songs. I tabled at comic cons. I sold comics to magazines. I got a book deal, then more. I eventually parlayed my experience of making books and comics for kids into writing and illustrating for brands for many years. I commodified my hobbies, but I didn’t kill them. Even when I sold my skills to giaaaant, questionable corporations like [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. In fact—and this SUCKS—I found that I was more productive in my personal work when I had a day job or corporate gig. It was something to fight against, I suppose. Anyway, the hobbies survived. Thrived!
I’ve been gardening for pretty much my entire life. I turned it into a job briefly in San Francisco when I worked for a friend’s biz, but other than that, it has remained “pure”. I got a Permaculture Design Certification last fall, but I haven’t “done anything” with it. I’ve met a handful of landscapers in the past year, but I’ve stopped short of asking about working with them. Caaareful.
Oh yeah! I almost killed this one. SO. I watch LOADS of gardening/homesteading videos. For a long time, I thought about starting a YouTube channel about urban, small space gardening. The idea haunted me for over a year.
Finally, in a lull between book deadlines, I dove in. I made lists of video ideas, came up with a channel name (my pal Karina got it over the finish line), and I spent two days writing, shooting, and editing a sixteen-minute video. Then I made and posted four YouTube shorts (disgustingly, short-form content rules all at YouTube just as it does everywhere else).
Then I realized something. I didn’t… want… to do it. Gardening was one of the only parts of my life that didn’t revolve around screens (not counting the vids etc. I watch). And then I screeeened it up. It wasn’t my escape anymore. I couldn’t make a batch of greens powder without filming it. Dude. Just let me make the dang powder and put it in my dang bisketti.
Maybe I’ll get back into it at some point. I definitely have stuff I want to share. I even filmed footage for three other videos (I’ll let them die on the vine, though). And, look, I already have a sweet logo, and that’s arguably half the battle. I’m also thinking about making some zines about some more specific gardening things at some point, and a have gardening-related book idea on the back-back burner. And I’ll definitely post continue to post pics and stuff on personal socials. But Decent Urban Gardening as a thing? I QUIT. And it felt good. I saved my hobby.
And that brings us to NNNEEEOW. I got back into ceramics last year, and I’ve gotten so much out of it. I’ve been really, really careful to keep it precious. I follow a lot of professional potters, and I don’t super duper think I want to go all in all in with it. But it’s a very welcome new set of literal and figurative tools in my figurative and literal studio.
I want my ceramics work to look ancient and imperfect. I like to see the grog and the tool marks. I love pinholes in glaze. I looove toasty, unglazed clay. I enjoy making things that are only vaguely useful. I very quickly started adding what I call “mirrors” to my pieces - simple, expressionless faces. My thinking is that when you look at one of these faces, the expression you see is the expression you feel. It looks happy? You’re happy. It looks jealous? Girl, YOU’RE jealous.
Most of what I make is one-off stuff, but I’ve started thinking about things that I could produce in small batches to (gulp) sell. Studio membership and supplies and time cost monies, after all (I’m as thrilled as you are). Anyhoo, the first small batch of items I’m putting out are DooDaddies. They’re little trays to hold littler things (you know, doodads). I’ve posted the first five out of the kiln on my site (listed individually, but I’ll prolly batch list them in future editions), and they’re available NOW. (Update: they’ve all sold!)
Check ‘em out for yourself at iamtravisnichols.com/clay. (I’ll add more pieces soon.) Yeah, I added a page to my site for ceramics stuff, and if you’re looking at an individual item, you’ll see a back button that takes you to the overall shop (which includes my books and stuff at the top). I hope that’s okay for now. Hey. Is that okay for now? Aw, thanks, bud!
And with that, I have officially monetized another hobby. Will this reopen the wound that pottery has begun to heal? Have I doooooomed myself to wandering the streets looking for a fresh, untainted interest? We’ll see.
Hey. Hey. Look at my face right now for a second. After you’re done checking out that link, promise me that you’ll go put your hands in some dirt.
I like your thoughts on this topic! It's true that money can ruin a fun thing. But I also think if selling some of your ceramics helps you afford to make more ceramics, maybe that could be a good thing? In theory! I for one, am looking forward to having a piece of your art in my creative space hanging out with me while I make my art. I say keep making stuff, keep pondering, keep having fun!