The Art of Starting Again: A Potter’s Journey Home
The Pottery on Canyon was crafted with a quiet vision and a great leap of faith.
I began my journey to becoming a potter circa 2016, taking my first wheel class on Wednesday evenings in downtown Victoria. It was through a search to reclaim a sense of self that I found myself sitting in front of a potter’s wheel, overwhelmed, failing miserably but ecstatic to be learning. I was a new mom, and though I reveled in my days pushing a stroller down to the sea for picnics and people watching, my one-year-old daughter wasn’t the best conversationalist and I craved a creative outlet.
In my quest for creativity and adult company, I quickly became a member at that same pottery studio. I remember being mesmerized by the flow of the space, the clay, the process, the potters, all of it. I would sit across from more seasoned members as they threw these large and impressive vessels, all while I struggled to centre my clay, pulling uneven walls and heavy ashtrays. I distinctly remember feeling like I was standing before this towering wall of knowledge, a tiny figure craning her neck upwards. Admittedly I still often feel this way, like I could scale this rampart every moment of every day and still never see the top. That is one of the most beautiful things about ceramics – you are ever the student, the clay ever the teacher.
Fast forward several years and I found myself living in Creston again. The pandemic was just starting and in the long days of uncertainty I found myself glued to the old pottery wheel I had recently purchased and set up in a tiny corner of my parent’s basement. It was my therapy and still is. My pots were terrible, heavy, sometimes uneven and getting a toe hold into that great proverbial wall often felt impossible. I bought an old kiln off a retired artist – It was huge and only worked half the time (but I learnt a lot about kilns and cried a lot too) and slowly, pot by pot, I began to improve. The beautiful thing about family and friends is that even when you’re garbage at something they wholeheartedly pretend you’re not, so with their encouragement and enthusiasm, I began to sell my work, first online and then at the local farmer’s market. To my amazement my pots sold like hot cakes (remember these were the good old days when no one went to work, the cash was flowing and everyone was spending money like they were about to die). Serendipitously my potter’s ego was briefly, circumstantially overinflated. They do say timing is everything!
I started to get enquiries for private lessons, and as my skills improved and my pots continued to sell, I felt emboldened to share the joy I experience on the wheel with others who wanted to learn. As lockdown lifted, I purchased a second wheel and my husband spent weeks preparing a basement studio in our home – sealing the floor, whitewashing walls, hanging shelves. I remember holding my breath as he carried each ring of my shiny new kiln down the steep steps, convinced he would come crashing down the stairs, smashing my dreams and his head in at the same time. Partners and family members are often the silent heroes behind every actualised dream and mine are no exception.
I taught, and I loved it. Word spread, more pottery wheels were purchased and I quickly started to outgrow the 500sq feet of space and the cobwebs. The inspiration I had felt during my time at the membership studio in Victoria had never left me, and as my confidence grew so did the dream of offering a similar space to the people of Creston. With the encouragement of a local business owner, I strolled into 1017A Canyon Street one day to ask if I could possibly rent this cute heritage building to house the studio I was envisioning. I met the landlords, they asked if I wanted to buy it instead and gave me a generous price (which I will forever be grateful to them for). Skip forward six stressful months of begging, borrowing and pretty pleasing, I walked out of the notary office with papers in hand that stated I was the new property owner. I remember exhaling loudly and leaning my forehead against the side of my car, closing my eyes. “Are you ok?” a lady passing by asked me. “I just bought a commercial building” I said, bewildered. She laughed. No further explanation needed. During this time, I was fortunate enough to be selected to create a business plan as part of the Community Futures Self Employment Program, an invaluable experience and one I would highly recommend to anyone looking to start a business.
Work began in haste to convert the main floor of the building into The Pottery. My husband, dad and brother put in countless hours repairing ceilings, taking out walls, painting, building shelves and wedging tables. My mom would take our kids at the drop of a hat so we could meet delivery trucks, zip to the hardware store or stay late into the night working. My sister patiently sat with me at her kitchen table setting up my chart of accounts, while my other siblings, cousins and friends made custom orders to keep money flowing into the project. My good friend and fellow instructor Jess supported me in my vision from day one and has lent her talents to the studio on many occasions, not only in program design and delivery but by adding colourful, pottery inspired murals to our walls. Finally, after months of hard work on December 12th 2022, we opened our doors to the public.
Like I imagine is the case for many new business owners it wasn’t all smooth sailing. The unforeseen costs repairing a 100 year old building and the imposter syndrome I experienced were deeply overwhelming, and as we launched our first group of classes in January 2023 the furnace broke and the pipes froze. My new students arrived in winter coats and woolly hats, we sipped on coffee and hot chocolate while the thermostat in the studio read 8 degrees Celsius. I remember thinking how grateful I was that we were Canadians – both because we could handle the cold and also because everyone was too polite to ask for their money back. The furnace got fixed, and bit by bit we expanded our class offerings - Wheel classes, hand building classes, kid’s programs, date nights and our much loved Make a Mug Night.
That following summer my mother-in-law and potter, Nancy, moved up from Victoria to help me run the studio. It has been with her skills, guiding hand and faithful presence that The Pottery has become something truly special. Our luck continued and my talented sister-inlaw, Holly, joined our team shortly after. We transitioned from only offering classes and workshops to becoming a membership studio in September 2023. Again, the old fears that no one would come, that I hadn’t climbed high enough yet to offer this service all came flooding back in. But they came anyway. First ten, then seventeen, then twenty-five members until we were bursting at the seams. And with them they brought their inspirations, their stories, their joys and pain. The studio has become a place of refuge for those undergoing cancer treatments, breakups, addiction, the chaos of parenting and the depths of grief. True and lasting friendships have been born in an environment focused around positivity, encouragement and as Nancy often says, the ‘not knowing’. Expertise belongs to those elsewhere, for we are all learning together and from each other with every visit to the studio, conversation and shared experience. If we are experts in anything, it is in surrendering to the lessons the clay continues to offer us and learning to enjoy the climb.
I don’t know what the next five or ten years will look like, but I know that The Pottery has become a living entity all its own, a unique culture and community centred around a shared passion. It has brought a depth and richness to my days that I could never have imagined, thanks to the kindness and generosity of the people who’s lives have become so intertwined with my own. But for now, I will continue to cherish this time, this special place and the beautiful people in it. Where she takes us next, only the kiln gods can know.
About the Author
Kait McKenna is a potter and business owner (The Pottery on Canyon) with a professional background in archaeology, a continuing source of inspiration for her creations. She grew up in the Creston Valley and returned in 2018 to raise her young family after over a decade living in the UK and around the BC coast. She is passionate about small business and a people-first approach to her work. When she is not mixing glazes, answering emails or loading kilns, she enjoys quality time with her children, a buttery slice of fresh sourdough and a quiet evening cup of tea with her husband, Ben.
