The Princess of Crafted

From the outside, my studio space at Crafted might look like a cozy corner for ceramics and creativity, but if you hang around long enough, you'll see it’s more like a scene out of an animated forest... or a backlot soundstage where nature and mischief meet. I say this with affection, but also with receipts: I may be the unofficial Disney Princess of Crafted.

In my first year at Crafted, I was still building out what would become my office. It was early morning before the market opened, quiet. I unrolled a rug for the space and out tumbled tiny pink baby rats. Yes, pinkies. I gasped, they squeaked, and thus began my unexpected relationship with the local wildlife.

A few months later, a loud thump rattled the high windows above my shop. A falcon (or maybe a hawk—I wasn’t about to ask) had crashed into the glass. As it tried to recover, a noticed the small white dove that swooped in and set up camp above my studio, clearly shaken. It stayed for days, leaving behind a trail of what I’ll call “emotional support” on the wall, which remains unreachable and... poetic.

And then there was Ricky. Pretty Ricky. One afternoon while working in my office nook, I heard a soft purring sound coming from the crawlspace under my shop’s sign. I looked up and noticed tiny paw prints on the wood—evidence of a raccoon who had clearly decided I was safe company. I’d seen him before, one night during the strange hush that settles over the market after hours. He’d been clinking around the picnic area, making sounds like a lunchbox full of old silverware. We locked eyes. He nodded. I nodded. I retreted. A few weeks later, he moved in.

Not long after that, I discovered on video replay; a skunk in my kiln room. He had the audacity to inspect my work mid-firing, slipping through the shadows like an art critic in stripes.

These days, my security cameras often catch rats on their midnight strolls or a possum waddling through like it's clocking in for the graveyard shift.

If only I could organize them. Assign little tasks. A rat to wedge clay, a raccoon to load kilns, a dove to inspect glazes. But alas, the real magic of a Disney Princess, the command over forest creatures remains just out of reach.

Still, I wouldn’t trade it. My wild little studio kingdom is full of surprises, laughter, and more than a little poop. But it’s mine. And it’s alive.