What I Wish I Knew Before Selling Pottery at Art Shows

Nobody teaches you how to sell pottery at art shows. You just... load up the car, drive somewhere, set up a tent, and figure it out while customers watch. I learned everything the hard way. Here's what I'd tell myself if I could go back.

Your Tent Will Try to Kill You (Buy Weights)

This is lesson one because it's the one that can ruin your whole weekend in ten seconds. Buy tent weights before your first show. Not after. Before.

A gust of wind doesn't care that you "thought it looked calm." I've watched tents go airborne. It's terrifying, it's expensive, and it's completely preventable. Forty pounds per leg, minimum. This isn't optional equipment — it's the price of admission.

Price Like You Mean It

New potters underprice. I did. Everybody does. You look at your mug, think about what you'd pay, and knock $10 off because you're nervous.

Stop. Your price needs to cover materials, firing, your time, the booth fee, gas, and the Saturday you gave up. And then it needs to leave room for the business to actually grow. If you're embarrassed to say the number out loud, that's a you problem, not a pricing problem. Practice saying it until it sounds normal. Because it is normal — it's what the work costs.

Here's the secret: customers at good shows aren't bargain hunting. They're looking for something real. Price confidently and they'll trust the work more, not less.

Nobody Buys From a Potter Staring at Their Phone

This one's uncomfortable. But the booths that sell are the booths where the potter is present — standing, making eye contact, saying hello.

You don't have to be a car salesman. Just be a human. "Hey, how's it going" is enough. Most people will browse quietly, and that's fine. But the ones who want to talk — and buyers want to talk — need an opening. Give it to them.

And for the love of everything, don't sit behind your table scrolling. I can see three booths from mine doing that right now, and I can also see their empty booths.

Have Something at Every Price Point

Your $80 serving bowl is beautiful. It's also not what most people buy on a Saturday afternoon.

The booths that do well have a range: small pieces under $25 for the casual buyer, mid-range functional ware ($30–60) as the bread and butter, and a few statement pieces up top. The small stuff pays the booth fee. The mid-range pays the bills. The big pieces make the booth look like somewhere worth stopping.

Fidget stones, spoon rests, small planters — these aren't throwaway items. They're the gateway. Someone buys a $12 spoon rest, loves it, and comes back next year for the $200 set. Play the long game.

Talk About the Work (People Are Fascinated)

Customers ask the same questions at every show: "Did you make all this?" "How long does it take?" "Is that food safe?"

Don't get annoyed. These questions mean they're interested. Have good answers ready — not a rehearsed speech, just real answers. Tell them about your kiln. Show them your hands. People buy the story as much as the pot, and your story is that a person in Ohio made this thing with their hands. That's genuinely interesting to most humans. Lean into it.

Bring More Bags and Boxes Than You Think

You will run out. Whatever number you're thinking, double it. People buy more than you expect, especially in the last two hours of a show, and nothing kills a sale like awkwardly handing someone a $60 bowl with no bag.

Nice packaging matters too. A simple kraft box or a decent bag with your card in it turns a purchase into a gift. Half your sales are gifts — package like it.

The Card Reader Is Non-Negotiable

Cash is nice. Cards are how most people pay. If your reader dies halfway through Saturday, you're done. Bring a backup battery. Bring a backup reader if you can. Test everything Friday night, not Saturday morning.

And put your Instagram handle everywhere — on the table, on the card, on the bag. @jessietylerceramics is on everything I hand out. Half my online sales started as a show conversation.

Rest. Seriously.

Art show weekends are brutal. You're up early, on your feet all day, talking to hundreds of people, then tearing down and driving home. Eat real food. Drink water. Sit down when it's slow.

Burnout is the silent killer of show potters. I know people who quit doing shows not because they weren't selling, but because they were exhausted and never built recovery into the schedule. One great show isn't worth dreading the next three.

The Real Lesson

Here's what it all comes down to: art shows aren't really about selling pottery. They're about meeting the people who buy your pottery.

The regulars who come back every year. The couple who bought mugs at their first show together. The kid who watched you talk about clay and now wants to take a class. That's the business. The pots are just how it starts.

Load the car. Bring the weights. Say hello. You'll figure out the rest.

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I'm Jessie — I throw functional stoneware in Ashland, Ohio and sell at art shows across the region. Follow along @jessietylerceramics, or browse the work.