We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Shana Brown a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Shana, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today If you could go back in time do you wish you had started your business sooner or later
I’m a strong believer in God, fate, and the timing of the Universe. The timing was what it needed to be. I started when I finally understood that I couldn’t live a life that didn’t feel like mine. Clay had been patiently waiting for me, and once I listened, I knew I couldn’t go back. It took courage, and it took time, but I wouldn’t change it.
I was stuck in a corporate job I didn’t like. It paid well, but it didn’t feel right because I wasn’t happy, and deep down I knew I wasn’t where I was meant to be. I had a studio membership and would go in on nights and weekends just to feel like myself again. Even in those few hours, I was making so much work that I ran out of shelf space. Once the orders started coming in, I realized this could be more than just a hobby, it could be the beginning of something big.
I used to pray for more space and time to create, and in 2019, I found my first private studio. Then COVID hit in 2020, and honestly, that’s when everything shifted. I was working from home in Connecticut and building my studio in New Jersey at the same time. I finally had the time and space to really go for it.
In 2021, I returned to the office after working remotely, and it broke me. I felt like I was betraying myself just to collect a paycheck. So I made the decision to leave. I found happiness again working as a Production Potter at Jono Pandolfi Designs. But then tragedy hit—a fire swept through my studio building and destroyed everything. Over 100 small businesses, including mine, lost their spaces in an instant.
It was devastating. But I didn’t give up. About six months later, I found an even better studio, and I’ve been there ever since.
So yeah…looking back, I wish I had believed in myself sooner. I was just so scared. I didn’t think I could make a living as an artist. But the truth is, when you finally choose the thing that makes you feel alive, everything else starts to align. Even the setbacks become part of the story.
Shana, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
I am a ceramic artist and educator living in New Jersey. I wear a few different hats in the clay world. I split my time between teaching pottery classes, producing my own handmade ceramic collections, and working part-time as a Production Potter at Jono Pandolfi Designs.
My pottery practice is a constant balancing act, and I like to call it beautiful chaos. I spend part of my week working in production, which has sharpened my skills, made me faster, and taught me the quiet discipline of repetition. The rest of my time is divided between teaching and creating. I absolutely love teaching, especially beginners who are touching clay for the first time. There is something magical about watching someone center a lump of clay and, in the process, begin to center themselves. Their shoulders drop, their breathing slows. You can feel the tension leave their body, replaced by a calm and curious presence.
The rest of my studio time is devoted to my personal work. I design and make handmade ceramics for seasonal collections, experiment with form, texture, and surface, and am always exploring new ideas. My creative process is intuitive and deeply tactile. I am drawn to texture and to the rawness of clay. I often leave surfaces unglazed to highlight the natural beauty of the material, and I have a deep love for raku firing. It is wild and unpredictable, and no two pieces ever turn out the same. That unpredictability is exactly what I love about it.
In the classroom, I teach the same way I work: hands-on, experimental, and real. I encourage students to explore form and surface in their own way, not just aiming for perfection but finding joy in the imperfections. We throw, alter, carve, and fire with curiosity. Since I also work in production, I bring practical knowledge into the classroom such as how to repeat a form, improve efficiency, and build muscle memory.
What sets my work apart is the combination of grit and curiosity. I am not chasing trends. I am chasing feeling. My pieces are meant to feel alive in your hands, textured by fire and time. My teaching is built on that same belief: that clay is not just a craft but a grounding and healing experience.
I am most proud of the space I have created. It is a studio that feels peaceful, playful, and full of possibility. It is a place where people come to slow down, get messy, and reconnect with themselves through clay.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
There was a night I left the studio early, just a few hours earlier than usual. I was tired. Hungry. I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see the space I built with my own two hands, standing whole.
The next morning, I showed up to work like any other day. My boss, Jono, met me with a heavy look and said, “I’m so sorry about your studio.” I didn’t understand. He told me my building was on fire and that I should check the news. My heart dropped.
I opened my phone, and there it was. Flames, bright and terrifying, rising from the building I had just left the night before.
In an instant, I imagined everything gone. My tools, my work, the walls I painted, the floor I cleaned, the shelves I built. All of it. I was horrified.
Weeks later, when I was finally allowed back inside, I cried. The air was thick with ash. The sprinklers had soaked everything. The space was dark, destroyed, and covered in soot. My hands shook as I touched what was left.
But in the wreckage, I found something. My pottery wheels. Three of them. And even though my kiln was covered in soot, I crossed my fingers, hoping it might still work.
It wasn’t much. But it was enough. Just enough to hold on to.
It took six long months to find a new space. Six months of grief, waiting, and deep uncertainty. But I never stopped. I kept going because I believed the fire was not the end. It was a clearing. A painful, heartbreaking reset that forced me to let go of what was and make space for what could be.
Two people lost their lives in that fire. I carry that with me, it reminds me how fragile life is, how quickly everything can change. It taught me to hold gratitude even in the darkest moments. If I am still here, I still have a chance to create and to begin again.
Sometimes the fire comes. But so does the growth. So does the next chapter.
To any artist who feels like giving up, don’t! What you are building/making matters. Even in the ash, there is always something worth saving.
Can you tell us about what’s worked well for you in terms of growing your clientele?
The most effective strategy for growing my clientele has been word of mouth. When students come to my classes and have a positive, memorable experience, they often tell their friends, family, or coworkers, and that personal recommendation goes a long way. Many of my students find me because someone they know has taken a class and couldn’t stop raving about it. That kind of organic growth has been invaluable, and it’s a reminder that creating a warm, welcoming, and engaging studio environment really matters.
When it comes to growing an audience for my pottery, social media has been the most helpful so far. Even though I’m still learning how to use it more effectively, it’s been a great way to showcase my work, connect with people who appreciate handmade ceramics, and build visibility beyond my immediate circle. That said, I know I need to be more consistent with posting and sharing behind-the-scenes content to truly take advantage of the platform’s potential. I’m working on developing a rhythm that feels natural and sustainable, one that lets me share my work without burning out or losing authenticity.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://shanabpottery.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shanabpottery/
Image Credits
Malia Bowman