Art. As a child, I’d always wanted to be an artist. My mother, a single mom who, when not at work for crazy hours to support us kids, was an artist.

Work. I never wanted to have the same relationship with my work as my mother had with hers— overworked, undervalued. From a very young age, opening an arts based community space had been my goal. I didn’t know what that would entail or what it would look like. I just knew in my bones that it’s what I was meant to do.

The story really begins about 8 years ago. I was a Fine Art student at University of Wisconsin River Falls with a major emphasis in ceramics and a minor emphasis in glass. How did I get there? Simple. Growing grew up in very small town in Western Wisconsin- population roughly 1000- UWRF was the closest university to home and had a great art program.

As I studied the making of ceramics on a very technical level, I began to fall in love. Yes, with the process.. but more with what the process was giving me. Reflection. Patience. Expression. I wanted others to have that too.

In the UWRF ceramic studio, discussion was highly encourageD. This was an invaluable aspect of my education. Of course, we spoke of art. We also spoke of being an artist. Life after school. How to continue making. How to make it as an artist. You know, the ‘impossible’. I never wanted access to art making to feel impossible. This just reaffirmed what I’d been thinking for years; we need more community art spaces.

In 2017 I was awarded the Multi-Cultural Fellowship Grant to attend NCECA (National Conference for Education in the Ceramic Arts). It was there that I first heard the term ‘art administrator’. I didn’t really know what that meant at the time, but it sure rang a beautiful note in my ear. Experiencing NCECA also exposed me to SO many different types of education. What I took away from that conference was that art administration, art education, art business… it’s not cut and dry. It’s not easy. And quality matters. 2017 was also the year I began leading my own kids ceramic classes at Northern Clay Center in Minneapolis, MN. Again, my biggest learning from that summer was… quality matters.

After graduating from my undergrad at the tail end of 2018, I took a one way road trip out of the frozen Wisconsin tundra and into San Diego. Once in San Diego, I honestly gave up on art. I didn’t see a way to make art work while working. I began to feel the way I assume my mother used to feel about.. work. With a painful lack of.. art. To alleviate this feeling, I began working at a very small pottery studio in Encinitas, CA part time. When I started working there, there were only 3 pottery wheels and about 400 square feet. It was perfect. It was inspiring. Teaching to such small groups allowed me to deliver the quality of education and individualized attention that I firmly believe is necessary to learn anything. As that business grew, so did that studio. I grew a ton too. As life would have it, in 2022, I needed to create my own path and do things my own way.

At the beginning of 2022, I tried to quit both of my jobs and open a studio; supporting myself off of commissions and lessons. Full transparency, it lasted about 4 months before it epically failed. Simply put, I wasn’t ready. I picked up a job doing digital marketing (in which I had zzzzeerrooo experience), learned a lot, and promptly got fired 1.5 months in. Pretty shitty, aye? At this point I was ready to completely surrender. I packed my pottery studio away and started getting used to the idea of being a nanny for the rest of my life.

Fast forward a few very short months. My pottery studio was set up in a tiny stinky corner of a metal working warehouse and I was nannying 55 hours/week. I began teaching a few lessons out of the warehouse and taking commissions again. I mean, hey, a girls gotta try. Fire and passion? Yup. Determination? Had that. Delulu? Undoubtably. Desperate for my own, quieter space I started my way down a Craigslist rabbit hole. I was looking for ANYWHERE that I could rent to set up a studio space for myself. This is when I found it. Our super cutie little Hillcrest corner store front. YAY! Only problem? I definitely had a mere $34 in my bank account. Obviously that is PENNIES in comparison to what I’d need to get a security deposit and first month of rent together. And what about shelves? Materials? PENS??!? (No one tells you how many pens you need to start a business. It’s kind of wild…)

The Solulu? Be delulu. I ran ads as if I already had the studio and scheduled out two months worth of lessons to begin after my ‘studio opening date’ that I was praying to all the gods in high heaven I’d secure in time. I made a SpotFund (Thank you to everyone that donated… for real). And I got that deposit and 1st month of rent. I got the shelves. Shit, I even nannied over night at Disney with 4 kids, 5 years of age and under, to get the studio another wheel.

January 14th 2023 was the day I got the keys to the studio; the day my whole life changed. An artist. An art administrator. A business owner. I’d done it. I continued working my full time job for the first two months of Terra Terra being open, pulling 80-90 hour weeks just to make it happen. I literally had to be carried from the studio to my bed some night. Exhaustion would be an understatement. Just two trying months in, sweet relief came. I was able to quit my other job and focus whole heartedly on my vision- Studio Terra Terra. The studio has gone through many evolutions in it’s short time street-side and there are many more to come as we continue to grow.

Terra Terra was born out of love. A love for community. A love for art. A love for quality, thorough, and supportive art education. As Terra Terra’s story continues to be written, I truly do hope that you find your way to the healing art of ceramics. Whether it be here at Terra Terra… or waaaaaay over elsewhere, the clay is calling you. What are you waiting for? Make your mark!