We went from pop-up to brick-and-mortar fast. And then, 18 months in, Covid shut us down.

We didn’t fold. We built something new: DIY Kits, complete with materials, instructions, and curated playlists, that kept our team employed through the pandemic and turned out to be something people loved enough to keep ordering long after. Today our kits are a permanent, growing part of what we do, sold directly, through corporate events, and through wholesale partnerships.

We came back from Covid stronger than we went in. That’s not luck…it’s the team, and the community, and the stubborn belief that a shop like this brings joy to people.

From the beginning, classes have been the heartbeat of The Works. Printmaking, natural dyeing, embroidery, floral arranging, stained glass, and more. We've built a curriculum around hands-on skills that slow you down and connect you to something real. 

In a city full of great creative spaces, our students come from across Seattle (and well beyond!) and keep choosing to come back, trying something new each time. We think it's because this isn't just a place to take a class…it's a place to belong.

Last year, my daughter went through a bone marrow transplant for aplastic anemia, a rare blood disorder. It was the hardest period of my life. Being away from the studio for months, and watching an incredible team step up and run everything without me, gave me a new perspective on the business and the space to finally act on an idea that had been brewing for a long time.

I kept coming back to something I'd always believed: so much of what we teach doesn't require heavy instruction; it needs good materials, a clear guide, and permission to explore.

The Maker Bar grew out of that realization. It's a way to make creativity more accessible and flexible, to invite people in even if they don't have the time, energy, or desire to commit to a full class. A place you can drop into, make something with your hands, and leave feeling a little more grounded than when you arrived. 

This isn’t a pivot away from classes. It’s an expansion of what we know works, built from years of teaching, testing, and refining projects, and from one long, honest look at what this community actually needs.

The new location puts us in the heart of West Seattle’s Alaska Junction, home of Husky Deli, Easy Street Records, and just down the street from the new Molly Moon’s. It’s a neighborhood that runs on independent businesses.

Our current space is tucked away on a lower level with an alley entrance, findable if you know where to look. Alaska Junction puts us on the main drag. All I could imagine over the last handful of months was…what if people could just walk by and see us? See their friends and family, their community, all making and say: “I wanna do that?!”

This move is also deeply personal. I want to live and work in the same neighborhood. I want my kids, who have grown up in every single one of my shops, to see that anything is possible when you put your mind to it. And I want to welcome their friends, their friends’ families, and all of Seattle into this space.

Every space we’ve rented in has been improvised, made to work through sheer resourcefulness. This time, we’re building it right from the start, designed specifically around how we actually teach, make, and gather.

Part retail, part Maker Bar, part classroom: a place where you can browse and pick up a kit to take home, pull up a stool and make something right now, or settle in for a full class. An art sink for the messy, satisfying work of actually making things. An ADA-accessible bathroom, because a welcoming space has to welcome everyone.

Everything we’ve learned in eight years of teaching, what works, what doesn’t, what people actually need when they walk through the door, is baked into this layout. We’re not just moving. We’re building the space The Works has always deserved.