Why Clay?
From healing to handmade joy—how a little lump of clay changed everything.
If you had told me a few years ago that tiny pieces of baked clay would become such a huge part of my life, I probably would’ve laughed. But here we are—me, a pasta roller, a table full of color palettes, and a long-eared dachshund’s memory sitting quietly in the background of it all.
Long Dog Clay Co. started during one of the hardest seasons of my life—after losing my sweet boy R-Jay in 2021. He was more than just a dog; he was my shadow, my comfort, my daily dose of silly. The grief hit hard and heavy, and I found myself reaching for something—anything—that could ground me.
That something turned out to be clay.
There’s something therapeutic about working with your hands. The rolling, shaping, layering—all of it felt a little like piecing myself back together. At first, I was just making things for myself. But then friends started asking about them… then their friends… and suddenly, what started as art therapy had turned into something real.
Why polymer clay?
Well, for one—it’s magic. It’s lightweight, flexible, and totally customizable. I love how it lets me play with color, shape, and texture all at once. Some days I lean into natural tones and soft curves. Other days, it’s bold patterns and playful themes. That’s what I love about it—it reflects life. Messy, beautiful, layered, imperfect, and always evolving.
And since I’m all about jewelry that feels personal, clay gives me the freedom to make pieces that feel like little expressions of joy, memory, or even a bit of rebellion (enter the skulls and butterflies).
At the heart of it all?
This isn’t just jewelry. It’s a piece of my story—and hopefully a little part of yours, too. Whether you’re wearing a pair of earrings to brunch with friends or gifting a piece to someone who needs a little extra love, I hope it reminds you that art doesn’t just belong in a frame. It can belong on you.
Thanks for being here and supporting this small-town, handmade-from-the-heart journey. R-Jay would’ve loved you.
Until next time,
Katie