Two Years of Clay, Community, and Creating Home
At the beginning of October, the two–year anniversary of the first Black Clay Workshop quietly passed. This coming January will also mark two years since I settled in Oakland—and honestly, it has all felt like a whirlwind. I’ve met so many people, built so many connections, and experienced so many beautiful moments that I often forget to slow down long enough to celebrate any single one of them.
Black Clay: A ceramic workshop series and community offering for Black folks centering pottery within the African diaspora. Intended to be a low commitment arts and learning space without barriers to entry.
A Year of Movement
In the summer of 2023, I was technically living in my hometown of Fresno, California, while juggling a chaotic schedule of traveling back and forth between the Central Valley and East Oakland. Part of it was the pull of a budding relationship, one that was also anchoring me to a new community. And part of it was clay.
Working in ceramics has a tendency to tether you to place. Clay is literally earth; it requires tending, attention, and presence. You can’t just walk away from a piece for weeks and expect it to wait for you. Only recently have I begun to appreciate the freedom that comes with my former life in illustration: a sketchbook, an 8x10 pad, an iPad. Tools that let you travel light. Clay, on the other hand, often demands roots.
Teaching my first six-week hand-building class at Clay Clubhouse kept me in Oakland for a while. And during the other six days of the week, I wandered the city, slowly getting to know it. My ceramics journey has always required rigor, creativity, and a kind of stubborn devotion, especially as a newly self-employed artist in a city I barely knew (Boston, MA.) I had to investigate every option, stay open to possibilities, and find financially viable pathways. Without transportation, I walked over a mile to the studio. I mopped floors in exchange for studio access.
I sought out teachers. I accepted invitations into unfamiliar spaces. I was hungry to learn. And yet, one thing remained painfully familiar: cultural isolation—typically being the only Black person in the room.
By the time I arrived in Oakland, the ceramics connections I’d built over the course of my two years in Boston and other parts of the East coast were now thousands of miles away.
The Seed of a Workshop
Out of that moment of reflection—and honestly, a little bit of lament for the more tender parts of pursuing art professionally—the Black Clay Workshop was born. I found myself thinking about how few Black teachers I’d had throughout my educational life. I grew up in a part of town where the Black and Brown population was small. And I had to acknowledge that many of the spaces I found myself in were the result of privilege built by generations before me.
I am incredibly grateful for the people who encourage me: the ones who nudge me out of the endless analysis phase of creating, the ones who push me toward discomfort and growth. My partner, Yanni, was the one who encouraged me to build the creative environment I longed for—a space with no barrier to entry, where the community could gather, learn, and connect. A space that pushed me to ask my distant creative community to support something bigger than myself.
I decided to offer the first Black Clay Workshop on October 8th—my paternal grandmother’s birthday. She was the person who instilled in me the importance of education and personal power. It had been a long time since I facilitated anything, and my desire to create a sense of home kicked in. Yanni and I bought snacks, stopped by Alkali Rye for beverages, and I meticulously planned the setup.
I was so nervous. It felt like the quintessential “What if no one comes to my party?” moment.
But all 15 spots filled on the first day. And within a weeks time, I received five to seven more emails asking me to hold another class.
A Community Forms
Since that day, we’ve offered the workshop in multiple locations across Oakland, inside clay studios, and far outside them. The community response has been overwhelming: clay donations, snacks, rides, and even a fully funded youth class last summer. It’s clear that people want this—connection, creative kinship, and spaces that honor shared experiences.
I’ve been deeply moved by people’s willingness to be vulnerable, to try something new, to risk being a beginner. I’ve watched people return to the workshop again and again, celebrate birthdays, even bring a date to class. That kind of trust is something I don’t take lightly.
Class Feedback:
Love you and thank you for this offering
Thank you for providing a space exclusively for black people to come together and be creative.
I was so grateful for the intentionality that was put into this class. It was also incredible to be around other black, trans folks, and non-binary folks. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a space with so many black theybees 💖. Made my heart happy. I also practice Yoruba and so it felt so in alignment that you had that Yoruba book. I felt like my ancestors connected me to you and your work. I hope to take a class from you again and would love a series! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything.
If the environment allows for it, it’d be amazing to have everyone sit at one table. I loved the group I sat with and would have loved to get to know the other group just as well!
If a series is available I would absolutely be down for it!
Thank you for sharing your story during class, and thanks for emailing resources!
Looking Forward
This year, much of my energy has gone toward figuring out how to make this offering sustainable—for myself, for my energy, and for the community we’ve built so far. I’m eager for more flexibility to offer these experiences to young people and to create more opportunities for deeper engagement with diasporic craft.
Two years in, I’m still learning how to slow down long enough to honor the milestones. But I am endlessly grateful—for the people, the clay, the city, and the sense of home we continue to shape together.
Join a Black Clay Workshop
If you’d like to be part of a future workshop or want to bring this experience to your school, organization, or community space, you can reach out to plan a session here: blackclay@ketchupstain.xyz
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About the Author
Kristen Stain is a multidisciplinary artist and designer whose work spans ceramics, illustration, painting, and creative direction.
Operating under the name ketchupstain, Kristen's practice is both a production studio and community project. Through ketchupstain, Kristen explores cultural history and envisions future possibilities, creating art, objects, and experiences.
