This former credit counsellor left finance for the pottery wheel  | Canada Voices

Hannun Lyn’s life “hasn’t been a straight line.” A ceramic artist and teacher, Ms. Lyn, 55, began her career in business, including a stint on Toronto’s Bay Street. Now, she’s owner of MUD The Clay Studio in Toronto’s east end.

Ms. Lyn discovered her love of ceramics by what now seems like magical happenstance as a teenager living in Montréal. But it would be nearly a decade before the artistic call prompted her to reconnect with clay and pursue her passion. After becoming a mother, an artist and finding new purpose in teaching, Ms. Lyn opened MUD in the autumn of 2023. Now, she teaches pottery wheel throwing and handbuilding for students of all skill levels.

In this series, Reimagining Wealth, we explore the evolving definition of wealth in today’s world. Here, Ms. Lyn shares her journey to life as an artist, teacher and entrepreneur:

Tell me how you were first exposed to pottery and ceramics.

I took ceramics when I was in CEGEP [College of General and Professional Teaching] in Montréal. I’d never taken art in high school – I literally took what was available because I had registered late. I was going down the path of business and commerce because as a first-generation immigrant, this is what you do. [But] I sat down at the [pottery] wheel and it was like I’d done this for my whole life.

How did you end up on Bay Street in Toronto, working in finance?

I went to Concordia and did a business degree. My stint on Bay Street was short-lived. I didn’t like it at all. [Then] I got a job doing credit counselling. Do you know what that is? You sit down with people who are dealing with debt and teach them how to work with money. You consolidate their debt – many times it was credit card debt. It was people on social assistance and who didn’t know how to manage their credit cards. It was good work, but it was draining.

I would take pottery classes at night. Then, one of my teachers sat me down and said she couldn’t teach me any more. She said, ‘Here are some books, but if you really want to learn, you should go back to school, you’re young enough.’ I was 30 and I decided to go to Sheridan College for three years.

When did you know that you wanted to teach?

After graduating in 2004, I set up a studio in Parkdale. I was making a living as an artist, selling my work and doing shows. By 2017, gentrification happened. The building was bought by a developer and everyone was evicted. I decided to step back from my own work and teach.

I got a job as the head of the ceramics department at a museum in Markham, Ont. I started doing kids programs, seniors’ outreach and I taught classes. I was just lit up from the inside because of teaching. It was something that came really easy to me.

You opened your own studio in Toronto’s east end in 2023. What does success look like to you now at this point in your life?

Time is something I really concentrate on in this studio. I want people to have time and space to bring themselves to a place that is grounding, where they can turn off their phones. They get dirty, so they can’t be doing selfies.

I would say life is different since social media. The younger generation in their 20s and 30s, there’s a missing part of them that has to do with connecting themselves with the earth. I’m not a sociologist or anthropologist, but what I see is that they’re looking for a connection that’s real. Maybe it’s a connection with themselves, maybe it’s a connection with something that is tangible. Here, they can connect with the clay.

What is it you like about teaching?

It’s very funny because sometimes people will come into the studio for a one-time workshop and they’re like, ‘Thank you very much. Have a great day.’ And they never come and pick up the pieces [they made]. Other people will like, ‘That was life changing.’ Those are the people that I connect with.

Some of my students now, they floor me. They’re just so good. And it’s not just the creativity and the talent that they bring in. I’m attracted to people who are okay with being vulnerable. And this is the safest place to be. I allow them to be that vulnerable because – like the name on the door – it’s mud, it’s nothing else. If you screw it up, you just make another one.