Hi, I’m Allison
When I’m not chasing dogs, or kids, you can find me making pottery in my make-shift garage studio in Venice, CA. Sometimes I’m writing, sometimes I’m making stuff, but I’m almost always singing out loud and imperfectly.
All of the things that come out of my studio are a product of my curiosity. I’m the person that scavenges for stuff on hikes or at the beach and says, “I can do something with this”, or who sees things I think are cool or beautiful and says, “I could make that” and then does.
My journey didn’t kick off with clay; I cut my teeth producing reality tv. But parenthood can shift the focus of your life, it can and often does, shake you awake to what you really want out of life.
My obsession with clay was born in a small local studio on Sunset Ave. here in Venice, hence the name “Born on Sunset”. What began as just a weekly class to have some time for myself and a break from full-time momming, quickly morphed into a complete infatuation with clay and before I knew it I was doing everything in my power to cobble together a home studio so I could be on my wheel as much as my life would allow me to be.
I found some early success selling in a local shop, and also online. I hosted a great open studio sale, had a pop-up event at West Elm, and even taught a few rounds of beginner wheel throwing classes.
I was a one-woman pottery-parenting machine, I was happy but the imbalance of my work and home life began to burn me out, and then BAM. Global pandemic. And when lots of folks were filling their newfound “free time” just getting to know pottery, I had to leave it behind. At first I welcomed the “break” but little did I know the next thing to break, would be me.
At one point my husband and I thought we were moving and I hauled all my equipment, from wheels to glaze buckets out from our carport and into our backyard… under tarps. My husband was constantly traveling for work and so there wasn’t anyone else here to take care of the house, kids, and dogs… but me. Covid meant I had little to no help from family or friends and my glaze buckets sat outside for so long, the labels faded and peeled away.
When the world shut down, our daughter was in third grade and our son was in kindergarten. Through our nightmarish “virtual learning” experience, I came to the full realization that both of my children were neurodivergent and both were suffering. And then I lost my dog, my three remaining grandparents and two of my closest friendships and what I gained was a real fear of getting back to working with clay.
I had no choice but to suck it all up and soldier through, leaving my craft, and my own personal needs behind. I’m happy to say that while I’m not completely on the other side of all that, I know that' I’m rounding the corner. My kids are set with the professional care and accomodations at school they deserve, I worked with two talented therapists who helped untangle my mind and put my needs first and eventually, I moved my studio out from under the carport and tarps and into my old detached garage.
All of the piece that come from my hands and thoughts from my mind, are the product of my curious stumbling. Life is fucking hard, you guys. But it’s also great if you love yourself enough to pick yourself back up, bandage your bloody knees (ego) and just keep pushing in the direction your gut tells you to.
