To be brave.
Today I turn 29. I feel so old and so very young, but I think that’s just what growing up feels like. The older we get, the more we realize, hey, this is it! We don’t get to a point where we magically know what we are doing. We get time, and we make choices on how to spend it.
Someone recently told me that I was brave.
I am proud of who I am, the skills I have grown, the things I have created, but this really struck me: the idea of bravery. We use this word constantly with kids; just this weekend, my sister and I were celebrating my two-year-older niece for being brave (she fed and pet a chicken… it was adorable). When did we stop calling ourselves brave, celebrating even the smallest of wins with a kind acknowledgment that you did something that was not easy, but that you likely grew stronger and wiser in the process? As a 29-year-old recent master's grad who expanded her business while juggling work and maintaining relationships, I have a lot to learn, but I'm proud of how brave I have been.
I think bravery has shown up in more places than I realized. I am often asked what inspired me to start MADE. And as long as the person asking the question has more than 2 minutes to spare, I respond the same, “Well, it's easiest if we start from the beginning.
And here, I will take a moment to acknowledge that there are many words ahead of you. I know I have found it harder and harder to concentrate on things not fed to me in short video form. If you do choose to continue, I appreciate your time, oh, how precious it is. I hope you get to know me beyond the girl who talks to a camera and posts about why you should take a pottery class on Instagram, but instead as a fellow human simply trying to show up in this world the best way I can.
I was the “art kid” growing up. I found refuge in the art classroom during lunch, not to escape bullies or socializing, but rather to escape calculus and English class. For most of my time in high school, I had the balanced goal of double-majoring in fashion design and business. As a first-generation college student, I accepted this practical pursuit. I was a straight-A student, and it all came easily to me, particularly math and sciences. And you know what comes from that, especially as a young female in the push for women in STEM.
Like many high school seniors, I was excited to spend my last year taking the classes I had always wanted to take. But the summer before my senior year, without much reasoning beyond the “projected salary earnings of [insert job here]” tool I found on Google, I decided to pivot… rather 180. I figured if I made a lot of money, I could buy all the clothes I ever wanted! Nevertheless, I persisted, pursued, and achieved a Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering. It goes without saying that I am proud to be a woman in STEM, but I never found joy in it. I filled my time by diving into every opportunity outside the classroom I could, nearly all of which were tied to environmental sustainability and, more importantly, to getting to know the Dayton Community.
The art classroom refuge evolved over the years. An engineering curriculum is rather regimented. You are handed a roadmap of what classes to take when, and there is little to no opportunity to diverge from that pathway. I had made a loose promise to myself that before I graduated from college, I would take a pottery class. It was a class I had dropped in high school to prepare for engineering school. To make an already long story a little shorter… during my last semester at UD, I was able to move classes around and enroll in a semester-long pottery wheel course. I was hooked.
With little to no clue what a job would be like for an engineer who didn’t want to be an engineer, I actively chose to stay in the Dayton area, genuinely curious and passionate about contributing to the growth and potential I found so prevalent among individuals involved in community spaces. Stopping my pottery craft was simply not an option, and I was able to enroll in a clay membership program at a local community studio.
I wasn't trying to start a business. I was trying to find ways to keep creating. The simplified timeline is as follows:
In 2020, I opened MADE with 2 other lovely ladies at Front Street Art Gallery, offering a few classes here and there. In 2021, we parted ways as co-owners due to exciting changes in each of our lives. I kept the name MADE filed for my own LLC and invested in my first kiln and 3 wheels. I started teaching handbuilding classes here and there at local businesses, packing up my car with all the supplies and carefully transporting creations back to the studio. After a scorching-hot day in the middle of the summer and a 110-degree studio due to the albeit-beautiful, poorly insulated windows and lack of AC, I decided it was time to make a move.
In November of 2023, I opened the doors at 1619 E 5th Street with a whole lot of passion and not much of a plan. For better or worse, I have the “I can figure it out” personality trait. Saying yes to each next step that presents itself. Over three years, I grew our team from a one-woman show to 7 amazing clay crew staff members. Quickly outgrowing our studio, it was apparent that people are craving spaces to create, and I would argue even more so, spaces to create with others.
So here we are. I was handed the keys to 735 Wayne Ave in May of 2025. Last year on my birthday, we announced that we were expanding from our 1,400 sq ft to a roughly 9,000 sq ft studio.
I have always been employed outside of MADE. For the past 4 years, I have worked in the University of Dayton’s Sustainability Institute. Additionally, as the photos above show, I have been pursuing my Master of Business Administration. I have taken classes on every subject in the business realm, from evaluating financial statements to running digital marketing campaigns. While often in the context of corporate management, each class offered me the space to reflect on how these principles, practiced in companies with hundreds to thousands of employees, can apply to my much larger, but still small, business. My takeaway? It matters even more to be nearly impeccable at these processes than it does in a large corporation. Just because we are small doesn't mean we are exempt from the fundamental components of a business. Integration of technology, inventory tracking, finances, marketing, pricing strategies- it’s all there.
I have been in my hustle era to say the least. We all come from different circumstances, and while I have more things to be grateful for than pages to write on, affording this dream meant giving it everything I have. I personally built nearly every piece of furniture in the studio now, thanks to over 400 2x4s and a very tired drill. I developed skills as a mediocre general contractor, managing subcontractors and interpreting architects’ drawing schedules when something looked off. And possibly most importantly, I learned to ask for help when I needed it. If you have been following along, you have seen an immense amount of joy and progress. There was so much joy, but by far, 28 was the hardest year yet. Blood (fortunately, minimal), sweat, and my fair share of tears were shed. There were moments I got close to one of my least favorite words in the English language- regret. (What a useless emotion!) This journey is beautiful and inspiring, but incredibly difficult.
In an economic system and, consequently, culture that struggles to value community-centered principles, it is rare that dollar signs alone will ever justify the labor put in. I pursued my MBA to be equipped to handle this landscape. In other words, I take the business side of owning a business pretty seriously- if you don't like the business side of business, I highly recommend you not monetize your hobbies, it’s not worth it, period.
Do I wish everyone could access the joy of pottery for free? Yes. Do I wish we could all afford to purchase only handmade goods made by our community members? YES. Do I wish making your own clothes was cheaper than buying new ones? YES! And maybe someday we can get there, but it will require us to shift and seriously re-evaluate the things that matter deeply to us.
Ask yourself, why do you reach for the handmade mug over your perfectly matching set from Target? Why do you enjoy the moments you can slow down a bit more and stop at the local cafe, rather than running through the Starbucks drive-through line? Why do you enjoy gifting handmade, even if only something small, over a handful of bargain goods?
If you don’t know, I'll tell you—human connection. You enjoy subconsciously honoring the hands that touched the mug you drink from, the quick life updates from the barista who remembers and genuinely cares to know how you are, the stories you tell, maybe not even about the item itself, but the way in which it reminded you of them.
Shopping small is more than a tagline and effort made once a year before the holidays; it's a radical act of valuing connection over convenience and cost savings. I am not asking that you support MADE because you “should” support small. I hope you choose MADE because you value what happens when people gather around a shared table, learn a new skill, and create something with their own hands. THAT sense of connection is what we’ve poured everything into building.
I’m not sure what I expected to accomplish in my twenties, but I’m sure glad it’s this. I am proud to have physically built our new studio. I am proud to have completed my MBA. I am proud to have put together such an incredible team of people who “get it”. But more than anything, I am proud to have been brave enough to stop treating creating as the art classroom refuge and start treating it as the path itself.
