Hilary Broad
“I send the candle set when I cannot visit. It still feels like I chose something, not a SKU.”
sellyourhomework.com publishes Hand Made as a gift catalog for the United States. We are not a factory outlet. We are a careful shelf: objects that were thrown, carved, knotted, poured, or strung in rooms small enough that the maker still names the glaze.
The coral, charcoal, and cream you see here are intentional. They belong to a boutique that would rather show the work than shout a discount. Read this page as a studio tour in sentences — who we serve, how we choose inventory, and why a client-side cart is enough for a first order.
Meet ArtistsPeople land here looking for a present that does not look like it was scanned from a pallet. Birthdays, housewarmings, winter holidays, thank-you notes, and quiet “thinking of you” boxes all need something with weight and a story. Hand Made answers that need with pottery that still shows throwing rings, jewelry that sits lightly, textiles that drape, and wood that smells like the shop for a week after it arrives.
We write long product notes because the difference between “mug” and “speckled studio mug” is the difference between a generic object and a gift. Clay body, glaze family, handle pull, and firing temperature matter to the person who will drink from it every morning. The same is true of merino weight, maple grain, wick size, and knot pattern. This about page exists so you know we take those details as seriously as the wrapping.
Handmade, for us, means a person guided the form. A wheel, a knife, a needle, or a loom may be involved. A small jig or a shared kiln is allowed. What is not allowed is anonymous mass production dressed in craft language. If a piece is assembled from components, we say so. If a glaze is mixed in a bucket rather than purchased as a branded bottle, we say that too.
Gifts travel. A rim that chips in transit is not charming. We choose work that can be packed in molded pulp and kraft without losing its character. That standard quietly drops many beautiful but fragile experiments from the catalog, and it is why arrivals feel consistent even though the makers do not share a single workshop.
Our readers and buyers live across the United States. They host, they commute, they keep plants, they write on paper, they want a present that does not add plastic noise to a home. They may be buying for a parent who still sets a Sunday table, a friend who just rented a first apartment, or a colleague who deserves more than a branded tumbler. We write for that person: practical, a little romantic about objects, unwilling to pretend that craft is only for galleries.
You will not find a published street address or a ringing phone on this website. Correspondence starts with the contact form. Orders start with the cart in your browser. After checkout, a representative writes back. That sequence keeps the studios working instead of staffing a storefront desk.
Elena’s stoneware, Caleb’s maple, Amira’s stones, and Noah’s fiber set the tone. We add work that can sit beside theirs without looking like a different shop. Color stories lean toward clay, wool, brass, and timber. Prices stay in a gift range — enough to honor the hours, not so high that a present becomes a performance.
New arrivals rotate. When a dye lot or a firing is gone, the card comes down. That is not scarcity theater; it is how small studios actually work. If you love a mug, add it while it is listed. The wishlist in this browser will remember it.
See Gift Prices“I send the candle set when I cannot visit. It still feels like I chose something, not a SKU.”
“The serving board looked like it already belonged in their kitchen. That is the whole assignment.”
“The throw has the weight I wanted. The blog care notes were actually useful, which is rare.”