About Us

Pink Moon is a gallery, curated gift shop, and personal studio in downtown Port Angeles, filled with work made by artists from across Washington State.

And it is definitely NOT a stuffy, white-wall gallery.

We like art with a little life in it. Beautiful things, strange things, useful things, things that make you laugh, and things you pick up and immediately start figuring out where they could possibly go in your house. Our gallery brings together artists working in all sorts of disciplines, with an emphasis on handmade, original work that feels personal and distinctly its own.

You’ll find functional pottery alongside stained glass, jewelry, prints, woodwork, fiber, sculptures, and other pieces that are simply too good—or too wonderfully odd—to leave behind. We also tuck in a small collection of companion goods chosen to play nicely with the artwork: things that can turn a favorite handmade piece into a really lovely gift, a souvenir from the Olympic Peninsula, or something entirely bespoke for someone you know well.

founding artist

Marcie Connally

I’ve always been an artist. I just didn’t always get to make my living that way.

I came into pottery—and really, into trusting my own voice as an artist—a little later in life than some. There were plenty of other chapters first, including years as a professional photographer and floral designer. I suspect all of that still rattles around in my brain somewhere. Composition, color, texture, a fondness for things that are just a little unruly—it all followed me into the pottery studio.

These days, clay is where I’m happiest.

I make functional pottery meant to be used, not relegated to a shelf and admired from a respectful distance. My glaze work is layered, dynamic, frequently daring, and probably the most recognizable hallmark of what I do. I love depth and movement, unexpected combinations, drips and breaks, and little bits of alchemy that happen in the kiln. Subtlety has its place - I’m just not convinced that place is on my pottery.

I’m also constitutionally incapable of making the exact same thing over and over. I can make you a pair of mugs, but they will be sisters, not twins. There’s always some new form, glaze combination, or experiment beckoning from the sideline, and I’m generally powerless to resist.

Somewhere along the way, I gave myself permission to stop making things I don't enjoy making. Life is too short to spend it annoyed at a salt crock. (Sponge holders, you know what you did.)

That still leaves me making far too many different things, but I’ve made peace with it.

Pink Moon grew out of something much bigger than wanting a place to sell my own pottery. I wanted to create the kind of gallery and curated gift shop I wished there were more of—a place where artists could show work with a real point of view. Work that feels genuine, beautifully made, sometimes unexpected, and unmistakably connected to the person who created it. I wanted art to feel approachable rather than rarefied. Beautiful things, useful things, peculiar things, and curious things that simply make you happy should all be allowed to exist under the same roof.

I feel enormously fortunate that I get to live and breathe art every day now. It took me a while to get here, which may be part of why I appreciate it so much.

More than anything, I hope my pottery finds its way into the ordinary rituals of people's lives—the mug you reach for every morning, the bowl that somehow becomes your bowl, the platter that comes out whenever everyone gathers around the table. I don't want my work to be precious or pretentious. I want it to be loved, used, occasionally chipped, and woven into the life happening around it.

When I’m not covered in clay or busy at Pink Moon, I’m happiest spending time with my wife, Dalton, our amazing son, and our sweet little dogs.