A large, irregularly shaped, light beige stone or pebble centered on a white background.

I collect places. I tell stories. I make things.

A woman with long hair wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a sleeveless top, and jeans standing outdoors in a natural setting with tall grasses and trees.

A stylized aloe vera plant with elongated leaves on a black background.

Silhouette of two bowls or cups, one above the other, with a curved rim.

A black and white illustration of a stack of five trapezoidal-shaped bowls or dishes.

Stylized black and white drawing of a rainbow with thick lines and a modern, abstract design.

Two young children, one girl and one boy, wearing safety goggles, in a workshop or garage, holding tools, with workshop equipment and supplies in the background.

A light-colored, irregularly shaped object with a smooth surface on a black background.

A woman with long hair and a young girl with short hair are sitting together on the floor with a small dog. The woman is holding the girl, and the girl is touching the dog, who is lying down. The scene is in black and white.

Careers can be rebuilt. Money can be earned again. But those years, when my children still reached for my hand, were a once-in-a-lifetime gift.

But the greatest gift wasn’t the time I found to make pottery - It was the life Josh and I built around it.

It was my hand our kids reached for on the walk home from school. My arms that comforted them through sick days. My hands that bathed them and made endless snacks and scratch-dinners. And my voice that sang to them at bedtime, every single night.

There is nothing in this world that has ever felt more right. Careers can be rebuilt. Money can be earned again. But those years, when my children still reached for my hand, were a once-in-a-lifetime gift.

Silhouette of two palm trees on a black background.

I’ve always been hopelessly nostalgic, romantic.

I love stories - especially the ones that really happened.

I love old things, weathered things, places that have been changed by water, wind, sunlight, and time. Things that wear their stories on the outside.

I collect places — not because I want to own them, but because I want to remember how they made me feel.

Sometimes with a camera.

Sometimes with a notebook.

Sometimes with a pocket full of rocks.

And sometimes with clay.

I’m Allison, the maker behind Born on Sunset.

Decorative black banner with the phrase "VENDOME" spelled out in white letters hanging on a string.

A black and white photo of a cluttered woodworking or crafting workshop with shelves of various supplies, a worktable, and tools. The room has a rustic wooden ceiling and walls, with fluorescent lighting and an individual hanging lamp.

A stylized illustration of an agave plant with long, pointed leaves radiating outward.

Studio interior today.

I’m so glad you found your way here.

A handwritten message that says 'Xo, Jimi' on a white background.

explore the latest collection

A woman with two children, one on her back and the other on the ground, playing together in black and white.

A young boy with blonde hair making a pouty face, standing outdoors on a sidewalk, holding an adult's hand.

Silhouette of a bottle with a narrow neck and wider base, presented in an off-white or beige color.

Stylized teal-colored plant or succulent with pointed leaves on a black background.

Black and white illustration of a striped boat or yacht with horizontal stripes on the hull.

A black and white photo of a rolled-up sheet of paper or material with cracks, placed on a flat surface, with a blurred background of shelves and objects.

A beige star-shaped plant with long, pointed leaves on a black background.

A black rubber stamp and a white paper with the text: 'You know what you want - get to work to make it materialize' and a series of numbers below.

A woman smiling outdoors, wearing a baseball cap and a patterned apron, with gardening tools and potted plants on shelves in the background.

Silhouette of a bottle with a narrow neck and a wider base.

I didn’t leave television because I stopped loving it.

I left because, after becoming a mother, I realized it no longer fit the life I wanted to build.

The long hours, constant deadlines, and unpredictability that made me successful in that world were the very things pulling me away from the version of myself I wanted most: The Present Mama and part-time maker.

I traded a big paycheck for something that felt infinitely more valuable - being there.

At the same time, my husband Josh was building the filmmaking career of his dreams, so mine became the steadier role. Because I was home, he could say yes to opportunities that required travel, long days, and impossible schedules. We were a team, each making different sacrifices so the other could thrive. I’m deeply grateful that he believed in my creative work, too, long before I thought about making it a business. His support gave me the space to keep returning to the studio, even when the path forward wasn’t always clear. We lived on less, and gained so much more.

A woman and a young girl are working together to stir a large bowl of liquid using a power drill. They are in a workshop or kitchen area with various tools and supplies visible in the background. Both appear focused on their task, sharing a moment of teamwork and concentration.

Silhouette of a champagne bottle, wine glass, and a vase with flowers on a black background.

Piece by piece, clay has taught me resilience - not because it was easy, but because it rarely was.

Through every season since, clay has been my constant - the place I return to when I need to think, to feel, to reset.

Cracks became lessons. Failures became new ideas. Every finished piece carried a little evidence that starting over is part of making something worth keeping.

A person sitting at a wooden table, gazing at a pottery bowl filled with assorted succulents. The table features three round, textured stones, a slice of pizza, and a smartphone. The person has sunglasses resting on their head and is wearing an apron.

Silhouette of a spiky, palm-like plant on a black background.

and somehow, I pulled it off.

‍ ‍

A woman with two children, one girl sitting on her shoulder and one child crawling on the ground, engaging playfully together.

A woman with two children plays together, with one child sitting on her back and the other child crawling on the floor.

A young girl sits on a stool in a garage, smiling and holding a mug. The garage door is closed, and there are various tools and objects like cups, buckets, and wires around her. The scene is in black and white.

Once I decided to make this work, everything happened faster than I expected. One minute I was taking a weekly pottery class and the next I found myself up in the middle of the night checking my kiln like it was another sleeping baby.

There were school drop-offs, parent conferences, bedtime routines. Deadlines. Flopped pots. Glaze tests. And countless throwing sessions squeezed into the margins of everyday life.

Somewhere along the way, I looked up and realized I wasn’t just learning how to make pottery—I was learning how to begin again.

Two white semicircles with black backgrounds, arranged to form the appearance of a cartoonish face with closed eyes and a mouth.

Woman with a headscarf working on a ceramic piece in a pottery studio.

Simplified illustration of a potted plant with long, spiky leaves.

Thanks to the generous offer by my in-laws to to drive an hour each week to spend time with the kids, I was able to carve out space to learn how to throw, but that just wasn’t enough— I craved clay. I needed it to be part of my everyday life and clay dust has no room at my kitchen table (although I did cheat a few times)

So I began building a studio one mismatched piece at a time. I saved what I could, hunted down secondhand equipment, and learned almost everything through trial and error.

It started with a wheel sitting on a mound of mulch under our carport but that mound of mulch gave me space to fail as I learned - privately. Then I found the leftover floor tiles from our bathroom and laid those down, and my husband used an old closet door to build me some shelves, even the kids found a way to get in on the action!

I hope something I make reminds you of a place you love - or inspires you to discover a new one.

A close-up of a round, smooth, white fruit, possibly a peach or a similar stone fruit.

Illustration of a two-part taco shell with shredded cheese inside.

I‍ was a woman on a mission to make this studio happen ‍

A woman standing in a rustic workshop or pottery studio, working with clay on a pottery wheel. The workspace has wooden shelves with bowls and pottery items, and the room is constructed with wooden beams and corrugated metal walls. Sunlight streams in through a window.

A woman with a band in her hair sits at a table in an art studio, holding a pottery mug and looking up. Behind her, a man with long hair and a beard stands near a table. The wall features a large abstract painting of a female figure and a line drawing of hands making hand signs.

Temple of Mediclaytion Sunset Ave. Venice, circa 2015

A woman with short hair and a nose piercing sitting at an outdoor table, one foot on a skateboard, with a dog lying underneath her. The scene is in a backyard with trees, bushes, a brick wall, and a chair in the background, in black and white.

Long before I ever touched clay, I was collecting places.

I just didn’t have a name for it yet.

The name Born on Sunset isn’t just a metaphor. It comes from an independant pottery studio on Sunset Avenue in Venice where a friend asked me to take a class.

By then, I’d already left my career producing reality television. After becoming a mom, my priorities had quietly shifted and I was simply looking for a few hours each week that belonged only to me —a creative outlet, a reason to leave the house. I thought I was signing up for a hobby.

Clay had other plans.

life is messy clay teaches patience.

today my studio lives in our 92 year old garage in Venice, CA

Born on Sunset is where all those seasons meet: motherhood, curiosity, travel, joy, uncertainty.

I travel when I can. I collect rocks, shells and stories. I mother. I cook.

And all of it finds a way into my work.

The walls are full of holes and somedays I think the termites might be winning - but it’s all mine.

Every piece is made by my hands in small batches with care, intention, heaps of gratitude and a little bit of that Venice Beach magic.