On a brisk Saturday afternoon, with the intention of trying something new, my friend and I entered a muted green shop at 279 Danforth Ave. The air was heavy with chalky dust and paint fumes, and buzzed with all sorts of lowered, concentrated voices. Its sage walls were lined with shelves of white, blank ceramics, in various shapes and sizes. Despite its four tables being nearly full, we were immediately greeted by a staff member with a warm smile. She patiently and plainly described how the business works: you choose a ceramic from the wall—each of which have their own price and studio fee, pick out your paint colours, give…