Negative Money
a journey of pots, people, and money
A big important thing has happened since I last wrote. I graduated college!! After four years of undergrad, I’m finally done with school. Since the ceremony, mostly everyone has gone home for the summer. Although I’ve finished my classes and said my goodbyes, I want to share the ceramics project I’ve been working on this semester before I can feel completely done with college.
The project was kind of a way to wrap up my college experience and pottery journey. I don’t plan on stopping pottery, it’ll just be the last time I have access to the studio materials and equipment my university art program offers. For my project, I’ve been making pots all semester, non-stop. Bowls and plates, cups and vases. I’ve been throwing, trimming, glaze-testing, and firing. Over the many nights and days spent at the studio, I’ve ended up making over 200 pieces. But my project isn’t really about making, nor is it about selling these pieces. With all the work I’ve made, I plan on giving it all away. For the people and places that have shaped my college experience and pottery journey, I’m giving everything away for this project I’ll call, “Negative Money.”
Money
The part I enjoy the most about ceramics is giving it away. For me, there’s nothing better than receiving a handmade gift. As a kid, my sister and I had trouble thinking of things to buy for my parents. I mean come on, they’re adults. There’s nothing we could buy them as kids that they couldn’t afford themselves. So when we didn’t have our own money yet, my sister and I would spend time making silly homemade gifts for them instead. Christmas? A little book of coupons. Birthday’s? Homemade cake. Mother’s Day or Father’s Day? Painted picture frames and little wooden tables.
To me, there’s something special about giving someone a handmade gift. It feels like giving away little pieces of myself. For pottery, it’s the years spent learning a skill, all the little techniques I’ve adopted into my process, and left in the curves and scuffs on a piece. When I give something away, it's my time and effort all packed into a single vessel.
But giving gifts has gotten harder as I’ve become an adult. I have less time to spend learning about something if it’s not my job and if it doesn’t make my money. The margins as a potter aren’t always great, and everyone encourages me to find a job or sell my work. I don’t come from money, so sometimes I’m conflicted about not selling my work. But I hate thinking about money.
I come from a family of working class immigrants. We weren’t rich, we weren’t really even that poor, but we were always working. On my own, I never would’ve been able to afford to go to college. But I got very lucky. When I was accepted into college, I also got the letter for the financial aid package I would receive. It was life-changing. For four years, it fully covered my tuition, my housing, and a little extra for groceries. While there was nothing leftover for me to keep, I would be able to experience college without worrying about debt and rent. I could focus on school without needing to have a job the whole time. When I saw that letter, I felt lighter, like I could study whatever I wanted to and be who I wanted. It’s the reason I’ve been able to spend so much time making pots, and videos, and writing for fun.
When I was going into my final semester, I felt like that was coming to an end. After I graduated, I didn’t know when I could make things again without worrying about how much money it would make me. I felt that if I didn’t give everything away, I would regret it. Because after that, I would have to worry about the money, and I hate thinking about money. It kills me. It makes it hard to do anything for the joy of doing it. Which is why I like gifting, it’s not about money at all.
My friend Phillip once told me they like doing things for “negative money.” Phillip hosts people by doing dinner parties or coffee pop-ups, all for free. I’ve thought about doing things for “negative money” ever since Phillip framed it like that. They do a lot of things for “negative money,” but I know Phillip would disapprove of my giving away all of my work.
Food, pots, and people
A lot of what influences my love for food and art has to do with my family. At an early age, my parents instilled the importance of food in me. When they dropped me off for college, they took me to a local Taiwanese restaurant before driving back home. It was called Taiwan Little Eats. I honestly don’t eat out a lot, so I can’t even say I’m a regular there, but it’s been one of my favorite places to go throughout my four years in college.
I’m not close to the owner, so I introduced myself and asked if I could gift them a set of bowls. In a way, it felt like I was repaying my own family too. For the years and years my parents owned a restaurant, and the gift of food they gave me.
My mom was a potter before I was. An aspiring artist when she came to America, my mom attended a technical school in Indiana where she took various sculpture and ceramics classes. A few metal sculptures of my dad’s face are about the only pieces from her past that lay around our house. I never saw any of the pottery she made, but she’s told me about staying up at night to do wood firings with her classmates and the times my dad had to wait while she’d stay at the studio.
It had always been my mom’s dream to have her own art studio. She’s very talented. But talent isn’t always recognized when you live in a foreign country. That part of her life was stored away when she had to raise kids while running a restaurant.
She hasn’t yet gotten to live her dream of owning a studio, but she’s living it out in a different way now. My parents closed their restaurant after my sister and I left. My dad found a job that was less labor intensive, and my mom started her flower business. My parents are the reason I live to make things. I made them a family-style set of dinnerware, and a set of ikebana vases for my mom. I wouldn’t love food without their teaching, and I wouldn’t be able to follow this path without their support.
Since I’ve started creating videos online, I haven’t felt like there’s a physical community I belong to. I sometimes feel the same when I’m stuck in a studio all day, throwing all by myself. I don’t feel like I’ve made an impact when all I see are the likes and follows that I have.
I gifted the rest of my pots to various people who have been a part of my journey online. Another set of bowls and plates went to my friend Isaac, who does a pop-up called Gachi with my friend Phillip. I met Phillip and Isaac when I was in Chicago last summer. They showed me the sense of community I didn’t feel online.
I wanted my work to extend beyond my online profile and the studio. A lot of people online have inspired me and helped me throughout my journey, and I wanted them to know their impact on me. I sent the rest of my pots to other creators online.
This project was a culmination of my ceramics journey and my journey as a college student. An homage to my family, my culture, and my community. I never would have been able to continue pottery without the people who’ve given so much to me. So I wanted to just give something back. To the restaurant, to my family, to friends, and the community.
The starving artist
I follow a really terrible business model. I’m not super consistent with anything I do. I don’t post or make things when I’m burned out, and I do too many things for free. It’s the reason I haven’t made much money as a potter, as a creator, or in my career. But I don’t want to do it for the money, I want to do it because I enjoy it more this way. One day I might have to face reality, but for now, I’m doing ok like this.
This project was another one of my financially irresponsible decisions. At times it was a little tough. Some days I spent more hours in the studio than at home. My body started to feel the stress of throwing, trimming, and glazing two hundred pots. My elbows, back, and wrists all started to hurt from the repetitive movements of throwing the same shape again and again. I was eating poorly, and there were moments when I was afraid all my work would be a waste. But in the end, it all worked out fine. I was able to make my pots and gave them all away. Even though this project drained me at times, even though I lost more money than I had gained, I’ve never felt more free in my life.
I deeply resonated with your words. Gift-giving is one of the ways I show my care and affection for my loved ones. There’s something about knowing I put a smile on their face after giving them a handmade gift that feels like a present in itself.
I don't know why I feel so emotional when I read this writing. I feel the same way about gifting and money and not super consistent with things I do because I burn out so often. I've just read your most recent post about learning language and was thinking that your words are truly inspiring and I can feel it's coming from the heart because it touches the heart of others! Please keep doing what you're doing. Keep creating and doing what makes you happy!