Almost every maker I have ever met has, at some point, sold something for less than it was worth. It is rarely a mistake made out of carelessness. It comes from a genuine worry that a fair price will scare customers away, a lingering feeling that craft is somehow a hobby rather than work, and a habit of comparing yourself to mass-produced goods that were never made under the same conditions.
The trouble is, underpricing does not just hurt your bank balance. It undervalues the whole sector. When one maker sells a hand-thrown mug for £8, it makes it harder for the next maker to ask £28 for a comparable piece. Fair pricing is not greedy. It is the foundation that lets you keep making for years rather than burning out in eighteen months.
So let us walk through the three pillars — materials, time and overheads — and then look at how to turn those numbers into prices that actually sustain your practice.
Material costing is where most makers undercount, usually by forgetting the small stuff. Every gram of clay, every metre of thread, every clasp, every sheet of sandpaper and every drop of finish is money that has already left your account.
Work per item rather than per batch. If a 25 kg bag of stoneware clay costs £30 and you use 1.2 kg per mug, that is roughly £1.44 of clay — but you also lose clay to trimming, wedging and failed pieces, so add a waste allowance. Ten to fifteen per cent is a sensible starting buffer.
A small notebook or a simple spreadsheet is enough. Log the cost of every purchase as it arrives, and you will quickly build a personal price list for your own materials. It takes an afternoon and saves endless guessing.
This is the part that makes people squirm, so let us be plain: your time is a material. If you would not give away your clay for free, do not give away your hours either.
Start by choosing a realistic hourly rate. A common approach for UK makers is to work from a living wage baseline and add a premium for skill. If the national living wage is around £11 to £12 an hour, a skilled maker with years of practice should be aiming somewhat higher — perhaps £18 to £25 an hour for production work, and more again for bespoke or design-heavy projects.
Then track your time honestly. Not just the making. Include the sketching, the sourcing, the glaze testing, the photography, the listing, the packing and the trip to the post office. Many makers find that the actual making is only about half the total time a piece demands.
If a piece takes three hours of genuine work and your rate is £20, that is £60 before materials even enter the room. Seeing that number written down is uncomfortable the first time. It is also the truth.
Overheads are the quiet costs that never appear on a single receipt but absolutely shape your profit. Studio rent, electricity for the kiln, insurance, website hosting, card reader fees, accountant charges, travel to markets, tools that wear out, and the annual subscription to your selling platform.
Add these up for a year, then divide by the number of items you realistically make. If your overheads are £4,000 a year and you sell 400 pieces, each piece carries £10 of overhead. That is not optional. It is a real cost of doing business, and it belongs in your price.
A common rule of thumb is to multiply your material and labour cost by a factor to cover overheads and profit. Some makers use a 2.5 to 3 times multiplier on materials plus labour; others build overheads in as a separate line. Either way, the principle is the same — the number must cover more than just the obvious.
Once you have your three figures, the arithmetic is simple and slightly sobering.
Material cost + (hours × hourly rate) + overhead share = your floor price.
That floor is your break-even with a wage. It is not your retail price. Wholesale, commission-based galleries and market stalls all take a cut, and your price needs to hold up in each setting. If a shop takes 40 per cent, your £50 piece brings you £30 — which may be below your floor.
Many makers set a wholesale price at roughly half the retail price, so both you and the stockist can make a living. If the retail price would be £80, wholesale is around £40. If £40 is below your floor, the piece is not viable at that scale, and that is useful information rather than a failure.
The hardest part is not the maths. It is saying the number out loud without shrinking. Practise a short, warm sentence: “That piece is £85, and it is about nine hours of work.” You do not need to apologise for it or justify it further.
Price consistently across markets and platforms, so customers learn to trust your figures. Raise prices gradually rather than in one alarming jump, and give existing customers a little notice. Keep a record of what sells at what price; over a year you will see clearly where your value lies.
Fair pricing is a quiet act of self-respect. It keeps your lights on, your materials stocked and your hands working. And every maker who prices properly makes it a little easier for the next one to do the same.
Leave A Comment