Article contentWhile Malcolm ran the storefront and shaped clay in his studio, Christine wove quietly at home. Their first child, Michael, was still a baby. The space was modest but meaningful, filled with handmade items and the energy of starting something from scratch.Article content Malcolm Stanley’s pottery sits on display at his wife Christine Stanley’s weaving shop. Photo by Judith Mendiolea /The GuardianArticle contentMaking a livingArticle contentFor decades, they lived on their craft. Through recessions, changing markets and raising a family, they never stepped away from the work.Article content“We were interviewed many times in the past because people wondered how two craftspeople could make a living,” Christine said. “A lot of times one person has to get a paycheque, like farmers. But the two of us were able to do it.”Article contentChristine, ever practical, kept the books.Article content“At the end of the day, I do the books,” she said. “We’re totally debt-free. We don’t owe anything to anybody.”Article content“We didn’t get rich,” Malcolm added. “But what we had, we managed well.”Article contentArticle contentThey played to their strengths. Christine, a self-described math person, took care of inventory, accounting and ordering supplies. Malcolm focused on production. He worked long winter hours at the potter’s wheel and painted each piece by hand.Article content“I didn’t get into pottery to be a business person,” he said. “Luckily, my son is a much better business person than I am. Now I just make pottery, which is what I like doing.”Article contentThe farm yearsArticle contentIn 1980, they bought 40 acres in Glencoe and started building their dream from the ground up.Article content“The hardwood floor in the living room came from the gym at UPEI that I took out,” Christine said. “I’m a recycler.”Article contentThey milled their own lumber. They raised goats, ducks, chickens — and, finally, sheep. Christine always had a clear goal in mind.Article content“I only wanted purebred Bluefaced Leicesters,” she said. “People want soft things to put on their heads.”Article contentArticle contentBefore she could import her own flock, she sourced fleece from a woman in New York. She washed, dyed, spun and wove every strand herself.Article content A variety of mugs sit on display at Stanley Pottery in Victoria, P.E.I. Photo by Judith Mendiolea /The GuardianArticle contentMalcolm had a studio on the property, and Christine’s looms took over much of the house. They raised three children while running a full-scale farm and a two-person business.Article content“We lived there for 40 years,” Malcolm said. “It was a great place to live.”Article contentNext generationArticle contentMichael didn’t always plan on becoming a potter. He was working as a chef and a musician when he came home for Christmas 25 years ago.Article content“I was complaining about the food and music industry,” he said. “Dad hadn’t had an apprentice in 10 years, and he was behind on orders. So I just decided, hey, why don’t I try the family business?”Article contentNow he manages his own studio and storefront, selling both his and Malcolm’s pottery, along with work by other Island artists.
Stanley Pottery and Weaving celebrating 50 years in business in P.E.I.
