Meet the Makers

Clay Space was founded in 2006 by Janine Sopp, who envisioned a ceramics studio built to support artists at every stage—from first-time students to exhibiting professionals. “As long as we have several tiers of membership, we can accommodate people’s growth,” she says.

That tiered structure remains the foundation of the studio. Members begin with a single shelf and can grow into semi-private tables and dedicated studio spaces as their practice expands. “The benefit is continuity,” Janine explains. “You don’t forget where you were. You don’t have to put everything away.” With 24/7 access, a fully equipped studio and a knowledgeable tech team, artists can focus on making—whether they’re balancing a day job, producing for markets, or developing a body of work for exhibition.

After leaving its original home at the Greenpoint Manufacturing and Design Center in 2019, Clay Space built out its current ground-floor location on Calyer Street during the pandemic and reopened in 2021. It now serves more than 160 members and offers 17 weekly semester classes, along with a thriving after-school program.

Ceramics, Janine notes, is “having a moment,” but sustaining a studio requires more than trend. Clay Space was designed as a place where artists can incubate, experiment, and stay—growing from one shelf to a studio of their own before, eventually, making room for the next generation.

That vision now plays out daily in the kiln room, where Studio Manager Mike Gundlach oversees the technical backbone of the space. “We fire kind of anything and everything,” says Mike.

Clay Space fires roughly 1,500 pieces a week. “Running a studio like this is production in itself,” Mike explains. “These kilns are constantly flip-flopping—one’s going up, two are cooling, another just got loaded.”

The range of work moving through those kilns is expansive. Clay Space has been involved in firing large scale production orders for a number of restaurants around the city and recently fired seven 50-pound sculptural vessels for a gallery show. With their proximity to Broadway Stages, they have created custom pieces for films. Then there’s the experimental work. In collaboration with a science-art consortium, one project involved the firing of ceramic forms glazed with pollution collected from the George Washington Bridge, meticulously collected by brushing the particles into containers and formulating the glaze by the artist. “I woke up at three in the morning worried I was killing the studio,” Mike laughs. “I drove back to sit beside the kiln.” The firing succeeded—and became part of a larger conversation about Brooklyn’s industrial past and environmental present.

That mix—market makers, production potters, galleries, commercial clients, and “wackadoodle stuff,” as Mike puts it—defines Clay Space’s ecosystem. Some members know exactly what they want; others come in with an idea and need help engineering it. “People show up and say, ‘I’m a painter, I want to make big pots,’” he says. “We figure it out.”

Mike’s background in both production ceramics and restaurant kitchens shapes his approach. “It’s closer to cooking than you’d think,” he explains. Clay and glaze materials are sourced globally, and availability can shift overnight—a feldspar mine closing in the U.S., shipments stalled overseas, tariffs affecting cost. Each firing requires chemistry, timing, and adaptation. “Same material, different side of the world—it behaves differently,” he says.

A member of Clay Space and Director of Education, Gabrielle Tang’s (Chutbi Ceramics) studio table is orderly and vibrant—rows of mugs, cut-out fruit bowls, and tiny ceramic figures she calls “goobies.” “Fruit bowls are one of my biggest sellers,” she says. She also produces tableware and recently completed a collection inspired by ‘90s toy nostalgia.

After more than a decade in another industry, she took a pottery class for fun at a studio near her office. It quickly became essential. “Eventually I moved my nine-to-five to part time,” she says. “I loved my old job—but I couldn’t picture my life without clay.”

By 2019, she was ready for dedicated studio space. After hearing about Clay Space through fellow ceramicists, she waited through its relocation and pandemic delays. When it reopened in May 2021, she joined immediately—one of the first members.

What she values most is the shared infrastructure. “If there’s an issue with the kiln, people like Mike and the techs can problem-solve,” she says. “I don’t lose days fixing equipment—I can keep working.” That collective support allows her to focus on making. Her practice reflects the studio’s purpose: individual growth sustained by community.

Maureen McAfee (Thou Art Momo) joined Clay Space two summers ago as she began selling ceramics at art markets. “I started with two shelves,” she says, later sharing a desk with a friend for nearly two years before outgrowing it and moving into her own studio.

Trained as an illustrator, she graduated just before the pandemic and struggled to find work. “There were no jobs for two years. I think what I needed was to make my own work.” That impulse led to her signature painted fish bowls—playful, detailed, and slightly different each time. “I thought it would be funny to make a fishbowl vase.”

Though she now works from her own studio, she still relies on Clay Space for firings and community. “Things go wrong all the time,” she says. “It’s important to learn from people doing the same thing.” Shared troubleshooting is part of the appeal.