Money. Perhaps my least favorite topic and my least favorite anxiety trigger. I hate thinking about it, I hate worrying about it, and I hate tracking it. But we all know it's a necessary evil, so I'm facing it head on. Making a living as an artisan is HARD. No joke. I end up pouring most of what I make in sales right back into materials for new work or paying the bills needed to keep me alive and housed. Most months, it's totally fine. But slow months come along, and that's when I panic.
May was slow for me. There was no rhyme or reason to it. It was just a slow sales month. March and April were fantastic, so I did have my sights set a bit high, but I definitely didn't reach my sales goals or do much more than break even. It's demoralizing. I work my behind off and barely scrape by. In the past, this has been the moment when I break and go back to a day job. But not this time, kids. Not this time.
Instead of looking at this situation as a big ol' brick wall of failure, I'm looking at it like it's a window and I can see through to the other side. I'm not sure whether I can just open the window or have to smash the glass out to get there, but I'm going to do it. I've signed up to teach two workshops in July and will most likely teach in August through October as well, and I've started dabbling in event consultation for people who want to have a DIY wedding or other special event, but need a little help either in design, material sourcing, or creation. I'm also looking into making larger pieces (furniture, perhaps? My beloved restored furniture passion?) and consigning them to overcome the lack of storage space here in my tiny home. And the brainstorming is just beginning!
Instead of getting depressed, I'm getting creative. I'm not giving up this time.
Showing posts with label business. Show all posts
Showing posts with label business. Show all posts
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Lessons Learned from Seven Years of Business
I've gone mad with the desire to organize all of my paperwork, which is a minor miracle if you've ever seen my desk, and realized that April is the 7th anniversary of when I started Found Beauty Studio. I've been a maker my entire life, but April 2005 was the first time I sold a piece to a stranger. This business has at times been the only shelter of consistency for me through a marriage, a divorce, selling a house, losing everything, having a complete nervous breakdown, moving an hour away, moving back, transitioning through four different day jobs, renting apartments, buying another home, and getting married again. It has been such a long, terrifying, satisfying, and often exhausting journey and I thought I'd share some of my lessons learned for those of you that may be thinking about running your own creative business.
1) If you can handle having a day job, keep it. Running your own business is a sure fire way to go broke for the first few years. Be realistic about your operating costs, as well as your personal bills you need to cover, and how much stress you can actually handle during the time you'll be pouring every cent back into your business. If you're making $50,000 at your office job, know that you may never see that kind of paycheck again. Can you deal with that?
There were a lot of times that having a day job saved my butt. I've spent a great deal of time experimenting with different lines and it's taken me years to find what sells. If I hadn't had that steady paycheck, I would have been homeless. It's not a mark of failure to have steady employment. It's a mark of understanding your needs and making smart choices. I, I have learned, cannot handle having a day job. It feels soul crushing and triggers my depression like nobody's business. For me, it's worth struggling with bouts of poverty and exhaustion to have the freedom to do what I'm cut out to do.
2) Ask for help. I don't know everything and neither do you. There are a lot of people out there who all have pieces of knowledge and experience that will make your life so much easier. Seek them out. Ask questions. Listen carefully and keep an open mind when they suggest something different than what you're doing.
I have struggled with this. I have often had a terrible fear of asking the wrong questions, looking dumb, feeling stupid, and opening myself up to criticism. In the last few years, though, I've turned that around and I talk to everyone I can. If there's a workshop, I take it. If I'm stuck on something, I find someone who does it well and take them out to coffee and pick their brain. If there's a professional who has a particular skill that I need (eh hem...accounting) then I pay them to do it. I took me a while to get it through my stubborn mind that asking for help is not a sign of weakness.
3) Kill your darlings. If you think a particular thing you make is awesome, but after a whole lot of marketing and effort it doesn't sell, let it go. In the world of owning a business, it's no longer just about what work you want to make - it's about making work that you enjoy and that people want to buy from you. Making a living does not mean you need to compromise your artistic integrity. But it does mean that you need to listen to your customers.
As I mentioned before, I'm stubborn. I hate criticism. I have a habit of taking things incredibly personally. Watching my work sit on store shelves and online and go nowhere was so painful. It felt like a rejection of me when in fact I was just making the wrong products and selling them in the wrong markets. I used to make bags. I made gorgeous, intricate bags. Each one took days to make and they were pretty darn expensive. And they didn't sell. And I needed to pay my bills. So I had a serious talk with myself to figure out what I found satisfying about making those bags and how I could have that same experience making something else. Turned out that my favorite part of making bags was seeing what I had imagined come to life. The bags weren't actually an essential part of the equation. I regrouped, figured out the materials that really excited me, and started experimenting. And I realized what I had always done as a hobby was the answer: working with plants. You know what my biggest sellers are? Planters. You know what I do when a particular kind of planter stops selling? I invent a new style. Lesson learned.
4) Don't undervalue yourself. This is a biggie. For many of us, selling our work evolves from something we've loved doing in our spare time and we're trying to recoup the cost of supplies. It's so easy to only consider the cost of materials when pricing your work and nothing else. Sometimes it's about just being so darn thrilled that someone wants to pay you for something you made that you'll take anything. Other times it's about thinking the answer to having more sales is to lower the prices. But here's the thing - your time and your talent are expensive. You are worth being paid for your work and not just your costs. The cheaper you price your work, the less value it has to your customer. If you're selling handmade earrings at $7 a pair, your customer will equate them with mass produced jewelry from a mall kiosk. Don't undervalue yourself!
I raised my prices a few months ago and I was TERRIFIED that I was getting too full of myself, that I'd fail, that my sales would disappear, that I was going to be laughed at. You know what happened? Nothing. No change in sales, no backlash, just an extra $200 a month from the same number of sales I was making before. No one batted an eyelash. It was all in my head. I also figured out that by always trying to price my work as the lowest, I was undermining my fellow artisans. It's death by 1,000 cuts. If we all keep lowering our prices, eventually we'll run ourselves out of business.
The biggest lesson of all that I've learned is that I'm better at this than I think I am. Until I took myself seriously, no one else would either. I'm making a living off of selling my work and I'm really proud of myself. It's been some of the most fulfilling work I've done. For those of you out there taking the leap, I wish you a ton of success, if you find yourself getting stuck, I'm happy to be one of those people you ask for help :)
1) If you can handle having a day job, keep it. Running your own business is a sure fire way to go broke for the first few years. Be realistic about your operating costs, as well as your personal bills you need to cover, and how much stress you can actually handle during the time you'll be pouring every cent back into your business. If you're making $50,000 at your office job, know that you may never see that kind of paycheck again. Can you deal with that?
There were a lot of times that having a day job saved my butt. I've spent a great deal of time experimenting with different lines and it's taken me years to find what sells. If I hadn't had that steady paycheck, I would have been homeless. It's not a mark of failure to have steady employment. It's a mark of understanding your needs and making smart choices. I, I have learned, cannot handle having a day job. It feels soul crushing and triggers my depression like nobody's business. For me, it's worth struggling with bouts of poverty and exhaustion to have the freedom to do what I'm cut out to do.
2) Ask for help. I don't know everything and neither do you. There are a lot of people out there who all have pieces of knowledge and experience that will make your life so much easier. Seek them out. Ask questions. Listen carefully and keep an open mind when they suggest something different than what you're doing.
I have struggled with this. I have often had a terrible fear of asking the wrong questions, looking dumb, feeling stupid, and opening myself up to criticism. In the last few years, though, I've turned that around and I talk to everyone I can. If there's a workshop, I take it. If I'm stuck on something, I find someone who does it well and take them out to coffee and pick their brain. If there's a professional who has a particular skill that I need (eh hem...accounting) then I pay them to do it. I took me a while to get it through my stubborn mind that asking for help is not a sign of weakness.
3) Kill your darlings. If you think a particular thing you make is awesome, but after a whole lot of marketing and effort it doesn't sell, let it go. In the world of owning a business, it's no longer just about what work you want to make - it's about making work that you enjoy and that people want to buy from you. Making a living does not mean you need to compromise your artistic integrity. But it does mean that you need to listen to your customers.
As I mentioned before, I'm stubborn. I hate criticism. I have a habit of taking things incredibly personally. Watching my work sit on store shelves and online and go nowhere was so painful. It felt like a rejection of me when in fact I was just making the wrong products and selling them in the wrong markets. I used to make bags. I made gorgeous, intricate bags. Each one took days to make and they were pretty darn expensive. And they didn't sell. And I needed to pay my bills. So I had a serious talk with myself to figure out what I found satisfying about making those bags and how I could have that same experience making something else. Turned out that my favorite part of making bags was seeing what I had imagined come to life. The bags weren't actually an essential part of the equation. I regrouped, figured out the materials that really excited me, and started experimenting. And I realized what I had always done as a hobby was the answer: working with plants. You know what my biggest sellers are? Planters. You know what I do when a particular kind of planter stops selling? I invent a new style. Lesson learned.
4) Don't undervalue yourself. This is a biggie. For many of us, selling our work evolves from something we've loved doing in our spare time and we're trying to recoup the cost of supplies. It's so easy to only consider the cost of materials when pricing your work and nothing else. Sometimes it's about just being so darn thrilled that someone wants to pay you for something you made that you'll take anything. Other times it's about thinking the answer to having more sales is to lower the prices. But here's the thing - your time and your talent are expensive. You are worth being paid for your work and not just your costs. The cheaper you price your work, the less value it has to your customer. If you're selling handmade earrings at $7 a pair, your customer will equate them with mass produced jewelry from a mall kiosk. Don't undervalue yourself!
I raised my prices a few months ago and I was TERRIFIED that I was getting too full of myself, that I'd fail, that my sales would disappear, that I was going to be laughed at. You know what happened? Nothing. No change in sales, no backlash, just an extra $200 a month from the same number of sales I was making before. No one batted an eyelash. It was all in my head. I also figured out that by always trying to price my work as the lowest, I was undermining my fellow artisans. It's death by 1,000 cuts. If we all keep lowering our prices, eventually we'll run ourselves out of business.
The biggest lesson of all that I've learned is that I'm better at this than I think I am. Until I took myself seriously, no one else would either. I'm making a living off of selling my work and I'm really proud of myself. It's been some of the most fulfilling work I've done. For those of you out there taking the leap, I wish you a ton of success, if you find yourself getting stuck, I'm happy to be one of those people you ask for help :)
Friday, March 29, 2013
Behind the Scenes of a Photo Shoot
Today I thought I'd share a little behind the scenes look at how I photograph pieces for etsy. I'm a DIY kind of gal, and if i can do something with a home grown solution instead of a lot of expensive equipment, I do it. So my process for photographing my work to sell online is decidedly low tech. Here's my photo studio - my kitchen :)
It has a small north facing window to the left of the table, and between 10:30am and 1:30pm, the light is perfect. It's not too bright, it's not too dark, and it doesn't cause a lot of glare. But, just sticking a planter on my messy table isn't exactly going to bring in the buyers, so I do a little rearranging:
I found out the hard way after photographing a ton of work that the colors in the mahogany table really mess with the color balance in my camera (a canon photoshot elph point and shoot) so I cover part of it with a plain old piece of foam core I found in my closet:
Next, the subject:
As soon as I get a close up shot, the setting works rather well:
I could use any inexpensive photo editing software at this point, since really all I do is crop and dicky around with the contrast, but I use photoshop since I'm comfortable with it and have been using it for years. After tweaking, here's the finished product:
You can check out all the photos I used in the etsy listing!
I found out the hard way after photographing a ton of work that the colors in the mahogany table really mess with the color balance in my camera (a canon photoshot elph point and shoot) so I cover part of it with a plain old piece of foam core I found in my closet:
Next, the subject:
As soon as I get a close up shot, the setting works rather well:
I could use any inexpensive photo editing software at this point, since really all I do is crop and dicky around with the contrast, but I use photoshop since I'm comfortable with it and have been using it for years. After tweaking, here's the finished product:
You can check out all the photos I used in the etsy listing!
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Working at Working from Home
This is my second go around with working from home in the last two years. The first time I tried it was during a 3 month stint from October through December. I had been laid off of a job I really loved, thanks to a cut in government funding, and was smarting from the loss. My self-esteem was in the gutter, but I was determined to stay off of unemployment and make a living through Found Beauty Studio. Too bad I was completely unprepared. I was undercharging for my work, over-extending myself by selling in 3 brick and mortar stores and online during the holiday season, barely turning a profit, and on the verge of a particularly bad bout of depression. Let's just say, this was not a resounding success. I essentially holed myself up in my house as the days were getting shorter and colder, and sat in my living room producing as much as I could. I was also selling several different kind of products, so there was no streamlining anything. I was a one-woman crazy factory. I'm pretty sure at some point my husband must have considered leaving town until I re-entered the world of the sane and rational. Needless to say that when I was offered a job out of the blue in January, I jumped at the offer. I was important again! I had a reason to get dressed! I had a nice fat paycheck and big executive's desk! I finally felt like I could breathe.
It only took a few months before I realized how incredibly stressed out I was by trying to work a full-time day job, which ended up taking 50 - 60 hours a week, and run this business with the remaining time. Plus, here's the thing - I really hate rigid work schedules. Having to be in one place day after day for a predetermined amount of time makes me want to scratch my eyes out. So I bailed on that job, took two months in the summer to run Found Beauty Studio full time again, and then was offered what seemed like an incredible opportunity at another organization. Again, the siren song of a steady paycheck won out. It turned out not to be a good fit for me (see above for my hatred of rigid work schedules) and at the beginning of last month I went free range again. Seeing a pattern here? Yeah, me too.
So what do I expect to be different this time around? Thankfully, quite a bit. I know what my downfalls have been and I have a pretty good idea how to avoid them. They include:
It only took a few months before I realized how incredibly stressed out I was by trying to work a full-time day job, which ended up taking 50 - 60 hours a week, and run this business with the remaining time. Plus, here's the thing - I really hate rigid work schedules. Having to be in one place day after day for a predetermined amount of time makes me want to scratch my eyes out. So I bailed on that job, took two months in the summer to run Found Beauty Studio full time again, and then was offered what seemed like an incredible opportunity at another organization. Again, the siren song of a steady paycheck won out. It turned out not to be a good fit for me (see above for my hatred of rigid work schedules) and at the beginning of last month I went free range again. Seeing a pattern here? Yeah, me too.
So what do I expect to be different this time around? Thankfully, quite a bit. I know what my downfalls have been and I have a pretty good idea how to avoid them. They include:
- Leaving the house every day. Sounds funny, right? But I'm dead serious. It's so easy to get caught up in the strange and all-consuming world in my house and I need to be reminded of the outside. Plus, it makes me feel better to talk to other people and not just my cats (and myself)...
- Socializing. For real. I have friends and we're all busy, so I make a concerted effort to schedule coffee dates, mini road trips, and impromptu social gatherings. This was the hardest part of my first work from home experience. I went from supervising 30 people and being constantly surrounded by coworkers to seeing maybe one or two people a week, one of whom was my husband. It was so isolating.
- Having a work plan. I'm like a magpie around a bunch of shiny objects. It doesn't take much to distract me, so in order to get things done, I need to have goals set out for each week. I don't give myself time of the day deadlines as that would violate my no rigid work schedule rule and I'd hate life, but I do know what I want to have done by the time Saturday rolls around.
- Giving myself a break This one is by far the hardest for me. I'm a workaholic and a perfectionist and I have a tendency to set completely unrealistic goals and then beat myself up for not reaching them. So I'm trying to be kinder and gentler to my psyche. It's a one day at a time approach, but it's working. If I'm my own worst enemy, working for myself by myself is a bad idea.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
The Ethics of Selling
I'm broke. I mean, not flat-broke-can't-pay-my-electric-bill kind of broke. I've been there and thank goodness I'm not there anymore. But pretty much every penny I make goes right back into the business. It's almost like a magic trick. As soon as an order comes in, I need to buy more supplies and the money just disappears. POOF! Now you see it, now you don't. Because I know what it's like to be a small business owner and sole employee, I don't judge the decisions that other small business owners and sole employees make. But it's tempting.
There's an incredible project in Colorado called the Women's Bean Project. Here's their description of their program: "Since 1989, Women's Bean Project has been dedicated to helping women break the cycle of poverty and unemployment.
Women’s Bean Project strives to break the cycle of chronic unemployment and poverty by helping women discover their talents and develop skills by offering job readiness training opportunities.
With this stepping stone toward success, the women will be able to support themselves and their families, and create stronger role models for future generations."
Essentially they employ women in poverty to make food products like "Bean Soup Mixes, Dips, Bread Mixes, Organic Fair Trade Coffees, Cookie and Brownie Mixes, Instant Iced Tea, Salsa Mixes and Fajita Marinades, Spice Rubs, Sweets, Gifts Bundles, and Gift Baskets".
I DEEPLY admire the work that they do. I'm working on building the social enterprise wing of a local business to train young women to grow local edible plants that will help repair the landscape, and I look up to the work that the Women's Bean Project has done. It's not easy. It's not the typical profit focused venture. But last week they announced a deal selling their products through Walmart, and all hell has broken loose.
I also received an offer this week to work with a large retailer who is know for ripping off independent artists and who's CEO contributes heavily to anti-gay movements - something I do not agree with. So what do we as makers, sellers, and small businesses do? We're all just scraping by. For the Women's Bean Project, the incredible exposure that Walmart offers could give them the funds to employ hundreds more women in poverty. But Walmart's strategy of paying people substandard part-time wages with no benefits is one of the reasons people end up in poverty. You can work full time at Walmart and still qualify for welfare. WTF? Does one good deed outweigh the bad deeds? I honestly don't know. In my case, would selling my work through a company that has cheated so many others, but would probably bring in enough profits for the rest of the year, make any ethical sense? Could I live with myself? Could I, who has a business based on reducing consumer waste and creating a connection between people and the things they own and use, sell my work through a company that sells so many products designed in the US by artists, ripped off, and then reproduced in third world countries? I don't know. But I doubt it.
I don't begrudge any artist or charity the opportunity to to raise funds to further their work. It's a completely personal choice and one that none of us can make for them. Will I kick myself if I turn this offer down and then can't keep my business going, all because of my conscience? Maybe. Since I'm the only one affected by the decision, I'll probably turn it down so that I can sleep soundly at night. But, then again, I don't have employees depending on me for their livelihood. That would be a different story all together.
I hate that this is an issue. I hate that we as a society support the kind of companies that rip people off, create artificial poverty, and exploit third world labor. Its a catch 22. The people that Walmart employs can only afford to shop at Walmart, which keeps them in business. Prices stay artificially low. The culture stays focused on the disposable. The lowest price wins, even if it came at the cost of 1/3 of our society and countless people in slave labor conditions around the world. I know this blog post isn't going to fix any of it. All I'm asking is that everyone who reads this just thinks for minute before you buy your weekly groceries, or that new lamp, or that $10 shirt. Just, please, think about it. Nothing changes if we don't change it.
There's an incredible project in Colorado called the Women's Bean Project. Here's their description of their program: "Since 1989, Women's Bean Project has been dedicated to helping women break the cycle of poverty and unemployment.
Women’s Bean Project strives to break the cycle of chronic unemployment and poverty by helping women discover their talents and develop skills by offering job readiness training opportunities.
With this stepping stone toward success, the women will be able to support themselves and their families, and create stronger role models for future generations."
Essentially they employ women in poverty to make food products like "Bean Soup Mixes, Dips, Bread Mixes, Organic Fair Trade Coffees, Cookie and Brownie Mixes, Instant Iced Tea, Salsa Mixes and Fajita Marinades, Spice Rubs, Sweets, Gifts Bundles, and Gift Baskets".
I DEEPLY admire the work that they do. I'm working on building the social enterprise wing of a local business to train young women to grow local edible plants that will help repair the landscape, and I look up to the work that the Women's Bean Project has done. It's not easy. It's not the typical profit focused venture. But last week they announced a deal selling their products through Walmart, and all hell has broken loose.
I also received an offer this week to work with a large retailer who is know for ripping off independent artists and who's CEO contributes heavily to anti-gay movements - something I do not agree with. So what do we as makers, sellers, and small businesses do? We're all just scraping by. For the Women's Bean Project, the incredible exposure that Walmart offers could give them the funds to employ hundreds more women in poverty. But Walmart's strategy of paying people substandard part-time wages with no benefits is one of the reasons people end up in poverty. You can work full time at Walmart and still qualify for welfare. WTF? Does one good deed outweigh the bad deeds? I honestly don't know. In my case, would selling my work through a company that has cheated so many others, but would probably bring in enough profits for the rest of the year, make any ethical sense? Could I live with myself? Could I, who has a business based on reducing consumer waste and creating a connection between people and the things they own and use, sell my work through a company that sells so many products designed in the US by artists, ripped off, and then reproduced in third world countries? I don't know. But I doubt it.
I don't begrudge any artist or charity the opportunity to to raise funds to further their work. It's a completely personal choice and one that none of us can make for them. Will I kick myself if I turn this offer down and then can't keep my business going, all because of my conscience? Maybe. Since I'm the only one affected by the decision, I'll probably turn it down so that I can sleep soundly at night. But, then again, I don't have employees depending on me for their livelihood. That would be a different story all together.
I hate that this is an issue. I hate that we as a society support the kind of companies that rip people off, create artificial poverty, and exploit third world labor. Its a catch 22. The people that Walmart employs can only afford to shop at Walmart, which keeps them in business. Prices stay artificially low. The culture stays focused on the disposable. The lowest price wins, even if it came at the cost of 1/3 of our society and countless people in slave labor conditions around the world. I know this blog post isn't going to fix any of it. All I'm asking is that everyone who reads this just thinks for minute before you buy your weekly groceries, or that new lamp, or that $10 shirt. Just, please, think about it. Nothing changes if we don't change it.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Why Yes, I Did Make that Myself. Thanks for Asking.
Yesterday, in a hardware store, I had what has come to be an oft repeated conversation. It happens so frequently that I can practically psychically predict when it will happen. It always occurs when I'm intently looking through either tools, lumber, fasteners, or plumbing supplies. A male sales person will come up to me and politely tap me on the shoulder and say, "Do you need help finding something, ma'am?". First misstep - calling me ma'am. I'm 34. Knock it off. I reply, "Nope, I've got it. Thanks.". He'll stare at me with a slight hint of disbelief. He'll look me over and decide that I do not fit the mold of someone who knows what they're doing with tools, lumber, fasteners, or plumbing supplies. I'm usually in a dress, because I like dresses. They're comfortable. Second misstep - judging me by my appearance. He'll say, "Are you sure? Are you picking up something for your husband?". Third misstep - expecting that I'm picking up something for my husband. This use to really make me chuckle before I was married. I'll say, because now he's ticked me off, "Actually no. It's for me. Can I ask why you assumed it would be for my husband?" At which point he usually stammers and wanders off. One sales person actually said, "Sorry, didn't realize you were one of those feminists". I made sure to make a comment to his manager on the way out after that particular trip.
The thing is, this doesn't just happen in one particular hardware store. It happens in all of them with varying degrees of similarity. Some ask me if I'm looking for something for my husband, some ask me if I'm picking something out for someone else, and some just don't listen when I say I don't need help and continue to probe me about my projects. I've watched what happens when my husband shops in those same stores. They usually just nod at him and say hello. He, apparently, looks the part.
And - drum roll please - my least favorite thing? When someone asks me who helped me with my projects. It's like I'm a kid at a science fair who couldn't possibly have completed my exhibit without my parents stepping in. I get it. I don't look the part. I really don't. I wear dresses and dress shoes. I like long wool coats as opposed to the heavy duty outdoor gear most people around here sport. My bag is bright blue and has a hummingbird appliqued on it. I never, ever, look like I'm wearing anything weather appropriate. None of this fits most people's assumptions of a woman who likes to build complex biological based plumbing systems in her home. Or fix her own car. Or wire her own electronics. But I love doing all those things. Figuring out how things work is one of my great joys in life.
I've been a tinkerer since I was quite young. After age 9, I lived alone with my mom in a big, rambling house just outside of Boston. After school, I would hole myself up in the living room and watch PBS. This was the golden time when I'd religiously watch Julia Child, the Frugal Gourmet, Yan Can Cook, This Old House, The Victory Garden, and - my very favorite - NOVA. I learned ALL OF THE THINGS. When our vacuum cleaner broke, I took it apart and figured out which belts had slipped and replaced them. When the toilet ran, I knew how to tweak the float so that it shut off when it was supposed to. I fixed the washer when it broke, and replaced the thermostat on the dryer when it wouldn't heat up. I knew more about how to choose insulation than any 10 year old should have. And in our basement, I found my ultimate treasure, and perhaps one of the most defining influences of my childhood: The Encyclopedia of Crafts. 26 glorious volumes of projects covering everything from how to make your own sandals out of scrap leather to how to install a greenhouse. I went methodically through each one, completing every project I could. Since it was just my mother and me, there was no one around to tell me that these weren't typical projects for girls.
What bothers me the most about all of this is not that I don't fit in the template expectations people have for me. It's that occasionally I buy into it. When someone tells you enough times that your husband should check over your wiring work, you start to believe them. Luckily those moments are few and far between, but I worry about all those kids out there who didn't have my unfettered childhood. How many of them could be incredible tinkerers and makers, but don't feel welcome in stores, or don't have the confidence to take something apart?
Do the world a favor, everyone. Let every kid tinker, regardless of gender. Don't hover, don't fuss, just let them take something apart and see how it works. And while you're at it, take it apart yourself. Consider it an act of rebellion in a world of pre-made things and stubborn stereotypes. .
The thing is, this doesn't just happen in one particular hardware store. It happens in all of them with varying degrees of similarity. Some ask me if I'm looking for something for my husband, some ask me if I'm picking something out for someone else, and some just don't listen when I say I don't need help and continue to probe me about my projects. I've watched what happens when my husband shops in those same stores. They usually just nod at him and say hello. He, apparently, looks the part.
And - drum roll please - my least favorite thing? When someone asks me who helped me with my projects. It's like I'm a kid at a science fair who couldn't possibly have completed my exhibit without my parents stepping in. I get it. I don't look the part. I really don't. I wear dresses and dress shoes. I like long wool coats as opposed to the heavy duty outdoor gear most people around here sport. My bag is bright blue and has a hummingbird appliqued on it. I never, ever, look like I'm wearing anything weather appropriate. None of this fits most people's assumptions of a woman who likes to build complex biological based plumbing systems in her home. Or fix her own car. Or wire her own electronics. But I love doing all those things. Figuring out how things work is one of my great joys in life.
I've been a tinkerer since I was quite young. After age 9, I lived alone with my mom in a big, rambling house just outside of Boston. After school, I would hole myself up in the living room and watch PBS. This was the golden time when I'd religiously watch Julia Child, the Frugal Gourmet, Yan Can Cook, This Old House, The Victory Garden, and - my very favorite - NOVA. I learned ALL OF THE THINGS. When our vacuum cleaner broke, I took it apart and figured out which belts had slipped and replaced them. When the toilet ran, I knew how to tweak the float so that it shut off when it was supposed to. I fixed the washer when it broke, and replaced the thermostat on the dryer when it wouldn't heat up. I knew more about how to choose insulation than any 10 year old should have. And in our basement, I found my ultimate treasure, and perhaps one of the most defining influences of my childhood: The Encyclopedia of Crafts. 26 glorious volumes of projects covering everything from how to make your own sandals out of scrap leather to how to install a greenhouse. I went methodically through each one, completing every project I could. Since it was just my mother and me, there was no one around to tell me that these weren't typical projects for girls.
What bothers me the most about all of this is not that I don't fit in the template expectations people have for me. It's that occasionally I buy into it. When someone tells you enough times that your husband should check over your wiring work, you start to believe them. Luckily those moments are few and far between, but I worry about all those kids out there who didn't have my unfettered childhood. How many of them could be incredible tinkerers and makers, but don't feel welcome in stores, or don't have the confidence to take something apart?
Do the world a favor, everyone. Let every kid tinker, regardless of gender. Don't hover, don't fuss, just let them take something apart and see how it works. And while you're at it, take it apart yourself. Consider it an act of rebellion in a world of pre-made things and stubborn stereotypes. .
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Self-Doubt is a Real Pain in the Butt
Word on the street has it that to be successful in the art world, you need a thick skin. I must have missed that job requirement. My skin is paper thin. Practically transparent. A few weeks ago I sent my first ever wholesale order half way across the globe, and found out earlier this week that a few pieces arrived damaged. In the grand scheme of things, this is really not a big deal. I can replace the pieces, and things like this happen all the time. The store I shipped them to was not upset in the least. But I was devastated. All of my insecurities and deep rooted need to please others came rushing in a ball of anxiety and shame. For a solid half an hour I mulled over how I could have possible been so stupid as to not pack the order well enough, and how I could have ever thought I was good enough to sell my work. Seems like a complete overreaction in hindsight, but in the moment, the panic and self-degradation were all consuming.
The thing is, I take everything personally. As an adult in my early 30's, I've learned to re-frame the situation when I hit complete panic mode over something that I can intellectually identify is just not that big of a deal. I can now get over it in a day instead of a month. But it's still there. That ball of insecurity is a figure on my shoulder, hovering in the background. Sometimes the voice is whisper soft. Other days it screams. Most days it's an ever-present hiss - a really, really crappy soundtrack to life. That voice is a total jerk.
The work I put out into the world is so incredibly personal. Every single piece I make passes through my hands dozens of times as I tweak and perfect it. I am not someone who can ever utter the phrase, "eh, it's good enough". It's perfection or nothing at all.
But failure and criticism are part of the package. When you put intensely personal work out into the world, you open yourself up for criticism and pain. Some day I hope to disassociate my self-worth from strangers' reactions to my work. Today is not that day. But tomorrow could be...
The thing is, I take everything personally. As an adult in my early 30's, I've learned to re-frame the situation when I hit complete panic mode over something that I can intellectually identify is just not that big of a deal. I can now get over it in a day instead of a month. But it's still there. That ball of insecurity is a figure on my shoulder, hovering in the background. Sometimes the voice is whisper soft. Other days it screams. Most days it's an ever-present hiss - a really, really crappy soundtrack to life. That voice is a total jerk.
The work I put out into the world is so incredibly personal. Every single piece I make passes through my hands dozens of times as I tweak and perfect it. I am not someone who can ever utter the phrase, "eh, it's good enough". It's perfection or nothing at all.
But failure and criticism are part of the package. When you put intensely personal work out into the world, you open yourself up for criticism and pain. Some day I hope to disassociate my self-worth from strangers' reactions to my work. Today is not that day. But tomorrow could be...
Saturday, February 23, 2013
On Growth and Uncertainty
I admit it - I've sucked big time at blogging for the last few months. Ok, perhaps more than a few months. Many months. I took a day job (an office job! EEEK!) around the time my blogging trailed off, and I was knee deep in stress and madness. As I've stated before, I am not cut out for the 9-5 office job world. I think, fingers crossed, that I've finally convinced myself of this and won't second guess and embrace fear and doubt when people question me on what I "really" do for a living. That question always cuts me to my core. It hits at the heart of my self-consciousness and insecurity. If I'm not working in a way that most people see as actually working, what I am really doing with my life? How can my version of success actually be capital S success? But, damn it, this is what makes me happy.
I do not - I repeat, DO NOT - need to be sleep deprived, miserable, and stressed out to be successful.
I do not - I repeat, DO NOT - need to fit myself into the mold of other people's vision of my life.
I do not - I repeat, DO NOT - need to work traditional hours to satisfy conventional views.
I do - I repeat, DO - need to work in a way that is fulfilling and productive.
I do - I repeat, DO - owe it to myself, my loved ones, and my community to use my gifts the best I can.
I do - I repeat, DO - need to manage my time in a way that is healthy, and not value myself by how busy I am.
So true confession time: I undervalue my work and my time. I have a complex about being a maker and not an artist. I have undercharged for the things I make and put out into the world because I've been afraid they weren't good enough. As a result, my business has been handicapped. You know how most of us artisans and crafters make a living? By consigning and wholesaling our work. You know what that costs? Anywhere from 20% - 60% of our retail price. You know what you can't do if you keep your prices incredibly low? Afford to consign and wholesale. And so my business has been handicapped. Forgive me, friends, but I'll be raising my prices as of March 1. I deserve to be compensated for the incredible amount of work I put into each piece that leaves my hands. I deserve to not work myself into the ground for a profit of $5 a piece.
I deeply believe in breaking down the barriers to everyone owning handmade work instead of imported, mass-produced pieces that were made on the backs of poverty stricken children. I use reclaimed materials to keep useful things out of landfills and to combat our disposable culture. I try to create joyful, durable pieces that connect people to the everyday items they use and increase the value they see in them, so that those pieces stay around for years, instead of ending up in a garbage can every year. To that end, I make things in a variety of price ranges. I still want someone to spend $20 and have a handmade soap dispenser made from vintage, eco-friendly, and responsibly sourced materials. I want them to keep that for years and enjoy it every time they see it. But I can't afford to sell a robot lamp for $50 that has taken me over a week to hand craft and wire.
It was easy for me to undervalue myself for the last 4 years. What really hit home was when I realized that by underpricing my work, I made it hard for all of my fellow makers to fairly price their work. And I NEVER want to be responsible for that. What can I say? I'm a giver :)
I hope you all understand. And for all of you craftspeople out there, value yourselves!
I do not - I repeat, DO NOT - need to be sleep deprived, miserable, and stressed out to be successful.
I do not - I repeat, DO NOT - need to fit myself into the mold of other people's vision of my life.
I do not - I repeat, DO NOT - need to work traditional hours to satisfy conventional views.
I do - I repeat, DO - need to work in a way that is fulfilling and productive.
I do - I repeat, DO - owe it to myself, my loved ones, and my community to use my gifts the best I can.
I do - I repeat, DO - need to manage my time in a way that is healthy, and not value myself by how busy I am.
So true confession time: I undervalue my work and my time. I have a complex about being a maker and not an artist. I have undercharged for the things I make and put out into the world because I've been afraid they weren't good enough. As a result, my business has been handicapped. You know how most of us artisans and crafters make a living? By consigning and wholesaling our work. You know what that costs? Anywhere from 20% - 60% of our retail price. You know what you can't do if you keep your prices incredibly low? Afford to consign and wholesale. And so my business has been handicapped. Forgive me, friends, but I'll be raising my prices as of March 1. I deserve to be compensated for the incredible amount of work I put into each piece that leaves my hands. I deserve to not work myself into the ground for a profit of $5 a piece.
I deeply believe in breaking down the barriers to everyone owning handmade work instead of imported, mass-produced pieces that were made on the backs of poverty stricken children. I use reclaimed materials to keep useful things out of landfills and to combat our disposable culture. I try to create joyful, durable pieces that connect people to the everyday items they use and increase the value they see in them, so that those pieces stay around for years, instead of ending up in a garbage can every year. To that end, I make things in a variety of price ranges. I still want someone to spend $20 and have a handmade soap dispenser made from vintage, eco-friendly, and responsibly sourced materials. I want them to keep that for years and enjoy it every time they see it. But I can't afford to sell a robot lamp for $50 that has taken me over a week to hand craft and wire.
It was easy for me to undervalue myself for the last 4 years. What really hit home was when I realized that by underpricing my work, I made it hard for all of my fellow makers to fairly price their work. And I NEVER want to be responsible for that. What can I say? I'm a giver :)
I hope you all understand. And for all of you craftspeople out there, value yourselves!
Monday, September 3, 2012
The Ever-Changing Definition of Success - UPDATED
The one piece of running Found Beauty Studio that I can never put my finger on is what I consider "success" to be. Is it an arbitrary financial goal? Is it a particular lifestyle achieved? Is it some level of recognition from outside sources? I honestly don't know.
I've lived with bouts of severe anxiety and depression for most of my life. It's not something I usually share publicly and many people who know me professionally would be surprised by it. My inner circle of amazing and supportive friends and family know (kind of a hard thing to hide, long term), but other than that I've kept it to myself, mostly just disappearing for a few weeks at a time from society until I can muster the energy to leave my house again. I've hidden it out of shame and stigma. It's only been in the last few months that I've finally come to understand that I have nothing to be ashamed of. My brain operates with a different level of chemicals than other people's do. It's not my fault and the stigma can go to hell. I have it well controlled thanks to medication and behavioral therapy so that it doesn't keep me from living a full and rich life, and I consider that successful. I'd like to thank people like The Bloggess and John Moe for showing me that honesty can be extremely freeing. Hiding it keeps me sicker and makes others who also struggle feel more alone. Screw that.
It does mean, though, that the traditional definition of American success - status achieved by money and power - is often at odds with the reality of my life. I'll admit that part of me really wants that status. Part of me wants to be seen by society as successful, with a job that demands respect and creates lots of expendable income. Part of me wants to be traditionally normal. But when I have anxiety attacks that keep me from walking into an unstructured social situation without wanting to vomit and burst into tears, and a need to be able to set my own schedule because working 9-5 behind a desk sets off my depression like nothing else, the traditional office job is just not for me. I keep trying, and keep realizing it over and over again that I do not fit into that mold. And then I feel like a failure and a loser for not being able to do what others seem to excel at, and I go down that rabbit hole of depression and shame and self-loathing. And the guilt. Holy moses the guilt about not having to wake up to an alarm is excruciating. Sounds great, right? Bet you're a little jealous right now.
So here I am, thinking about success. Found Beauty Studio is not a cash cow. I think anyone who runs a small art business will tell you the same. The average salary for an independent craftsperson in America is a whopping $13,000 a year. That's $4,000 less than you'd make working full-time at minimum wage. I'm fiercely independent when it comes to being able to take care of myself, so the economic reality of falling short on income kills me. I am married to an absolutely amazing and caring partner who supports whatever I do, and yet I've just begun to be comfortable after 5 years together with the idea that the income we bring in is "our" money, not my money and his money separately, and that he doesn't give one hoot how much I make. I've been pretty proud of the fact that our salaries were comparable for most of our years together, even when I was completely miserable in my job, and now I have to wonder why. We're not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but we own our house (well, the bank owns most of it), we have no debt outside of our mortgage, we have savings, we own our cars, and we have health insurance and retirement funds. I think it's time for me to stop obsessing about the amount of income I contribute. Perhaps the amount of money I earn should not be so deeply tied to my self-worth. If I keep that as a measure, Found Beauty Studio will never make me "successful".
I think what I'm going to aim for as a measure of success for the next few months is to wake up without dreading the day. I want to wake up and feel like the next 24 hours are full of promise and not torment. I want to stop feeling guilty about setting my own schedule and apologizing for the times I feel fulfilled. I want to stop hating myself for enjoying creating full time. I want to embrace the positives of running an art business and not continually obsess over the pitfalls. In short, I want to be happy.
UPDATE: I'd like to thank the flood of people who have reached out to me with their own stories in the last few days. I'm awed that so many of us have the same struggles, and saddened that so many of us feel we have to hide them. To all of you who suffer in silence, please NEVER hesitate to contact me. I know what it's like to feel completely alone even when you're in a room full of people.
I've lived with bouts of severe anxiety and depression for most of my life. It's not something I usually share publicly and many people who know me professionally would be surprised by it. My inner circle of amazing and supportive friends and family know (kind of a hard thing to hide, long term), but other than that I've kept it to myself, mostly just disappearing for a few weeks at a time from society until I can muster the energy to leave my house again. I've hidden it out of shame and stigma. It's only been in the last few months that I've finally come to understand that I have nothing to be ashamed of. My brain operates with a different level of chemicals than other people's do. It's not my fault and the stigma can go to hell. I have it well controlled thanks to medication and behavioral therapy so that it doesn't keep me from living a full and rich life, and I consider that successful. I'd like to thank people like The Bloggess and John Moe for showing me that honesty can be extremely freeing. Hiding it keeps me sicker and makes others who also struggle feel more alone. Screw that.
It does mean, though, that the traditional definition of American success - status achieved by money and power - is often at odds with the reality of my life. I'll admit that part of me really wants that status. Part of me wants to be seen by society as successful, with a job that demands respect and creates lots of expendable income. Part of me wants to be traditionally normal. But when I have anxiety attacks that keep me from walking into an unstructured social situation without wanting to vomit and burst into tears, and a need to be able to set my own schedule because working 9-5 behind a desk sets off my depression like nothing else, the traditional office job is just not for me. I keep trying, and keep realizing it over and over again that I do not fit into that mold. And then I feel like a failure and a loser for not being able to do what others seem to excel at, and I go down that rabbit hole of depression and shame and self-loathing. And the guilt. Holy moses the guilt about not having to wake up to an alarm is excruciating. Sounds great, right? Bet you're a little jealous right now.
So here I am, thinking about success. Found Beauty Studio is not a cash cow. I think anyone who runs a small art business will tell you the same. The average salary for an independent craftsperson in America is a whopping $13,000 a year. That's $4,000 less than you'd make working full-time at minimum wage. I'm fiercely independent when it comes to being able to take care of myself, so the economic reality of falling short on income kills me. I am married to an absolutely amazing and caring partner who supports whatever I do, and yet I've just begun to be comfortable after 5 years together with the idea that the income we bring in is "our" money, not my money and his money separately, and that he doesn't give one hoot how much I make. I've been pretty proud of the fact that our salaries were comparable for most of our years together, even when I was completely miserable in my job, and now I have to wonder why. We're not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but we own our house (well, the bank owns most of it), we have no debt outside of our mortgage, we have savings, we own our cars, and we have health insurance and retirement funds. I think it's time for me to stop obsessing about the amount of income I contribute. Perhaps the amount of money I earn should not be so deeply tied to my self-worth. If I keep that as a measure, Found Beauty Studio will never make me "successful".
I think what I'm going to aim for as a measure of success for the next few months is to wake up without dreading the day. I want to wake up and feel like the next 24 hours are full of promise and not torment. I want to stop feeling guilty about setting my own schedule and apologizing for the times I feel fulfilled. I want to stop hating myself for enjoying creating full time. I want to embrace the positives of running an art business and not continually obsess over the pitfalls. In short, I want to be happy.
UPDATE: I'd like to thank the flood of people who have reached out to me with their own stories in the last few days. I'm awed that so many of us have the same struggles, and saddened that so many of us feel we have to hide them. To all of you who suffer in silence, please NEVER hesitate to contact me. I know what it's like to feel completely alone even when you're in a room full of people.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Taking Matters into My Own Hands
I'm a bit of a stubborn, head-strong, take charge, be-the-change-you'd-like-to-see kind of person. It has served me both very well and incredibly poorly at different points in my life, but I am who I am and I'm at peace with it. I do not do well sitting on the side lines waiting for other people to do what needs to be done. So when I realized that Burlington - my home for the last 12 years - was in desperate need of an affordable and stable venue for artists to sell their work, I decided to step in. After months of planning, I'm pleased to announce that I've found the Old North End Art Market!
The thing is, all of us artists, artisans, and crafters who have sold our work at shows have been there. You spend a fortune and entire days where you may or may not make a dime all day. And not only did you have to pay the vendor fee for the show (and sometimes an application fee...yikes), you had to buy a table and often a huge tent. Plus you have to schlep all of your stuff to the show. Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-show. I'm starting a monthly one for pete's sake. But I don't like the investment and risk that it takes to be involved in shows. It takes a lot of time, a lot of money, and there's a huge learning curve. There are so many incredibly talented people who have a bad experience the first time out and then give up on them. And then they lose out on the benefits that shows can offer - exposure, sales, and meeting other artists.
Mostly I now know what it's like to try to slog it out making a living off of your creations. It's tough. Really tough. Here in northern Vermont, there's no place you can try out a new design or have a location where customers can expect to buy from you unless you have a studio, which I can't afford to rent, or going the wholesale or consignment route, and I can't afford to take the 40%-60% cut in price that requires. And since a lot of my work is really difficult to ship, I can't easily sell it online. It's been discouraging. I look at cities that have weekly or monthly markets and I drool with envy. Ok, that's a bit of a graphic image. Mostly I shake my fist angrily at the heavens that I don't have that opportunity.
So here's where the head-strong, take-charge part comes in. Instead of sitting around and bemoaning my lack of options (which I did for a few years, don't get me wrong), I'm starting that market. I'm creating what I need, and what I imagine a lot of other artists around here need. The farmer's market is great, but you have to be able to be outside vending weekly all summer long, and have liability insurance, and afford the price, and have your own table, tent, and set up. It works really well for some artists, but not for me. I have a delightfully awful heat intolerance and I can't be outside in 85 degree or over temps without passing out and making a scene, so the outdoor market doesn't work for me. I also can't commit to selling weekly. I don't have the kind of time or inventory to make that work. So my market is going to be monthly, from 10am- 3pm, and at a beautiful indoor location that provides tables and chairs so that all you have to do is bring a table covering and your work and you can sell away. I think of it as an incubator space. I want to provide a place where all those fabulous artists and makers who have been too intimidated by the world of shows to try them out can come down on a Saturday, pay $30 for a table (that's the affordable part! I'd rather make significantly less for my efforts as the market organizer and make it accessible to artists), and give it a go. Also, I really want to bring opportunities to my part of town - the Old North End - which is incredibly vibrant and diverse, but not a usual tourist destination like Church St. in downtown Burlington.
Mostly, I'm really excited about all of it. I want to support the arts in my community. I want to create an opportunity for people to make money off of their creations. I want to connect buyers who are looking for unique and hand-made items with those amazing people making them. I also want to save other people from going through the isolation I went through trying to figure it all out on my own. I'm planning a series of workshop to go along with the market on how to start your own home-based food business, marketing tips, setting up a booth, etc. so that no one has to go it alone.
It's exciting! I'm excited. I hope you are too. So follow the art market on facebook or on twitter if you feel like it and if you're nearby, you should be a vendor if you're a maker, or be a shopper if you want to support the makers. You won't be sorry.
And to those of you who read through the end of my rambling post, thanks :)
Mostly I now know what it's like to try to slog it out making a living off of your creations. It's tough. Really tough. Here in northern Vermont, there's no place you can try out a new design or have a location where customers can expect to buy from you unless you have a studio, which I can't afford to rent, or going the wholesale or consignment route, and I can't afford to take the 40%-60% cut in price that requires. And since a lot of my work is really difficult to ship, I can't easily sell it online. It's been discouraging. I look at cities that have weekly or monthly markets and I drool with envy. Ok, that's a bit of a graphic image. Mostly I shake my fist angrily at the heavens that I don't have that opportunity.
So here's where the head-strong, take-charge part comes in. Instead of sitting around and bemoaning my lack of options (which I did for a few years, don't get me wrong), I'm starting that market. I'm creating what I need, and what I imagine a lot of other artists around here need. The farmer's market is great, but you have to be able to be outside vending weekly all summer long, and have liability insurance, and afford the price, and have your own table, tent, and set up. It works really well for some artists, but not for me. I have a delightfully awful heat intolerance and I can't be outside in 85 degree or over temps without passing out and making a scene, so the outdoor market doesn't work for me. I also can't commit to selling weekly. I don't have the kind of time or inventory to make that work. So my market is going to be monthly, from 10am- 3pm, and at a beautiful indoor location that provides tables and chairs so that all you have to do is bring a table covering and your work and you can sell away. I think of it as an incubator space. I want to provide a place where all those fabulous artists and makers who have been too intimidated by the world of shows to try them out can come down on a Saturday, pay $30 for a table (that's the affordable part! I'd rather make significantly less for my efforts as the market organizer and make it accessible to artists), and give it a go. Also, I really want to bring opportunities to my part of town - the Old North End - which is incredibly vibrant and diverse, but not a usual tourist destination like Church St. in downtown Burlington.
Mostly, I'm really excited about all of it. I want to support the arts in my community. I want to create an opportunity for people to make money off of their creations. I want to connect buyers who are looking for unique and hand-made items with those amazing people making them. I also want to save other people from going through the isolation I went through trying to figure it all out on my own. I'm planning a series of workshop to go along with the market on how to start your own home-based food business, marketing tips, setting up a booth, etc. so that no one has to go it alone.
It's exciting! I'm excited. I hope you are too. So follow the art market on facebook or on twitter if you feel like it and if you're nearby, you should be a vendor if you're a maker, or be a shopper if you want to support the makers. You won't be sorry.
And to those of you who read through the end of my rambling post, thanks :)
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The Balancing Act
Back in early January I got an email from my friend and former co-worker letting me know that a job in community organizing was opening up in my old division of city government. I missed that division. My job had ended due to federal funding cuts and it always felt like I left my work there unfinished. A week later I got a call from my wonderful and amazing former supervisor asking me if I was interested in filling the position on an interim basis. At first I laughed. Out loud. For far longer than was polite. It's a tough gig and I remember how miserable the previous occupant of the job had been toward the end of her tenure. And I was now running Found Beauty Studio full-time. It seemed like failure to abandon my business owner life. Was I giving up? Was I quitting? Was I retreating to the familiar world of meetings and offices out of fear? Or was I following my intuition that said another few months of house-bound isolation were going to do me in? My former supervisor gave me the weekend to think it over, and by Monday I was in. I longed for a regular paycheck and for the opportunity to interact with other humans besides my husband. The conversations I had with my cats were getting very extensive and I was a tiny bit worried for my sanity. Luckily, I haven't gotten to the point where they talk back...yet.
So back I went.
Back I went to pretty pretty city hall with the lovely marble floors and the grand views of Church St. Back I went to a feeling of importance and value that I never quite mustered working by myself for myself. Back I went to engaging brainstorming sessions with colleagues and community members. It seemed magical. I had a reason to get dressed up again. I felt like I had value and purpose again. I also, as I was soon to find out, had a 50-60 hour work week that regularly included night and weekend meetings.
I do not mind hard work. I happily jump in to the projects that involve long hours and difficult meetings. The more challenging the better. But this one was tough. Being "the human pincushion", as my supervisor put it, sucks. My job involved constant backlash about development projects and leadership that I had no involvement with, angry emails about the distribution of funding and resources that I again had no involvement with, being stopped any time I left my house by people with beefs against the city, and - my favorite - quite a few verbal and written personal attacks. It took over everything. It seeped into every conversation. It seeped into every thought. Slowly I noticed the toll the stress was taking on me. First it was the constant stomach aches. Then it was the overwhelming desire to sleep every second I wasn't working. Then it was the relentless recurring nightmares. Then it was the moment when my husband told me how bad he felt that I was always sad and angry. Then it was when I realized I no longer had the time to talk to my friends and family or make time for them while they visited. But much like any dysfunctional relationship, I kept at it thinking that things would get better. If only I stopped doing whatever it was that was making everyone so angry, it would all change!
And because that's crazy talk, it didn't. So out I went.
Everyone was shocked that I was leaving. I was so good at the job, they said. I was made for that work. I apologized profusely. Worst fear realized - I was letting everyone down. As I reconsidered my decision to leave over and over and over again, I had a revelation. I have the right to say no. I don't need to please all of the people all of the time. I love building community and networks. I love helping people find the resources they need. I love coordinating projects that bring a ton of people and partners on board and creatively problem solve. Love. It. But I also love free time, and Found Beauty Studio, and all of the volunteer projects I devote myself to. I don't think I'm alone in having a continuing battle with creating balance in my life. We all joke about first world problems (can we retire that hashtag, btw? Please?), but this is a biggie. We deserve to not work ourselves into the ground in order to make a living. We deserve to be treated with respect and dignity by those we work for and with.
I don't know where my path will take me. Who does? But I do know whatever I chose to do, I will do it knowing that it must involve carved out space for all of the wonderful people and rich experiences that make me happiest of all. No job is worth that kind of sacrifice.
Oh, and it has to involve making things out of other things. Because that is what makes me happy.
So back I went.
Back I went to pretty pretty city hall with the lovely marble floors and the grand views of Church St. Back I went to a feeling of importance and value that I never quite mustered working by myself for myself. Back I went to engaging brainstorming sessions with colleagues and community members. It seemed magical. I had a reason to get dressed up again. I felt like I had value and purpose again. I also, as I was soon to find out, had a 50-60 hour work week that regularly included night and weekend meetings.
I do not mind hard work. I happily jump in to the projects that involve long hours and difficult meetings. The more challenging the better. But this one was tough. Being "the human pincushion", as my supervisor put it, sucks. My job involved constant backlash about development projects and leadership that I had no involvement with, angry emails about the distribution of funding and resources that I again had no involvement with, being stopped any time I left my house by people with beefs against the city, and - my favorite - quite a few verbal and written personal attacks. It took over everything. It seeped into every conversation. It seeped into every thought. Slowly I noticed the toll the stress was taking on me. First it was the constant stomach aches. Then it was the overwhelming desire to sleep every second I wasn't working. Then it was the relentless recurring nightmares. Then it was the moment when my husband told me how bad he felt that I was always sad and angry. Then it was when I realized I no longer had the time to talk to my friends and family or make time for them while they visited. But much like any dysfunctional relationship, I kept at it thinking that things would get better. If only I stopped doing whatever it was that was making everyone so angry, it would all change!
And because that's crazy talk, it didn't. So out I went.
Everyone was shocked that I was leaving. I was so good at the job, they said. I was made for that work. I apologized profusely. Worst fear realized - I was letting everyone down. As I reconsidered my decision to leave over and over and over again, I had a revelation. I have the right to say no. I don't need to please all of the people all of the time. I love building community and networks. I love helping people find the resources they need. I love coordinating projects that bring a ton of people and partners on board and creatively problem solve. Love. It. But I also love free time, and Found Beauty Studio, and all of the volunteer projects I devote myself to. I don't think I'm alone in having a continuing battle with creating balance in my life. We all joke about first world problems (can we retire that hashtag, btw? Please?), but this is a biggie. We deserve to not work ourselves into the ground in order to make a living. We deserve to be treated with respect and dignity by those we work for and with.
I don't know where my path will take me. Who does? But I do know whatever I chose to do, I will do it knowing that it must involve carved out space for all of the wonderful people and rich experiences that make me happiest of all. No job is worth that kind of sacrifice.
Oh, and it has to involve making things out of other things. Because that is what makes me happy.
Friday, January 6, 2012
My State of the Studio New Years Post
I know that everyone and their cousin has a blog post about New Years resolutions and year-end recaps, and yes friends, I'm jumping on the band wagon. But I'm doing it because 2011 was a heck of a year. I mean, in the record books of years, 2011 was a big 'un. It started with me directing a large national service program for the federal government out of an office in a marble laden city hall, and, thanks to federal funding cuts, it ended with me working out of my living room painting and gluing and shipping like crazy. I'm one of the lucky ones. Instead of having to go on unemployment, I had a business I'd been building for years to fall back on. Plus the holiday season was coming and that's go-time for sales, so it seemed like great timing. But it was a much more challenging adjustment than I was prepared for. I used to get dressed up for meetings. Now I can work in my pjs all day if I don't have errands to run...not that I do that...seriously. I used to have a steady pay check. Now my sales are my livelihood. It's been a liberating experience, and yet has been a very rough transition for me. I've been thinking a lot lately about this transition, and here's my year end cap:
The cons:
So that's my year-end recap everyone. It's been a big year with heaps of ups and downs. It hasn't been even close to smooth sailing but I imagine that anyone who, for whatever reason, leaves full time employment to run a small business encounters much the same thing. I'm looking forward to 2012 and hope you are too. Thanks for following my blog, and may your year be full of happiness and good health, friends.
The cons:
- All of my income goes right back into my business. This isn't something that's widely advertised when you think about running your own small business, but the majority of your money will get funneled right back into your business. Pretty much every cent I make goes right back into buying materials to make more. This is totally fine if you have another means of income, but when you see those sales figures and they're looking really good and you still can't find the money to pay the electric bill, it's a bit disheartening.
- It's isolating. Going from working in a large office with plenty of in-person human contact and daily meetings with people I supervised to working alone in my house was rough. I'm not going to sugar coat this one - I was really lonely and depressed for the first few months I ran Found Beauty Studio full time. I missed interacting with other people. I missed having purpose. I missed being able to bounce ideas off of people who knew what I was doing and collaborate at the drop of a hat. Now socialization outside of superficial interactions with the good folks who work at my local post office takes effort. I mean, my cats are cute and my husband is awesome, but sometimes a girl just needs to talk to someone else.
- The mission is money. I know this sounds obvious since it's a business and my purpose is to make money, but for most of my adult working life I've worked for nonprofits with really amazing social missions. It's what kept me going. When work was tough, I just focused on the mission and it got me through. Now I am my mission. Keeping my electric bill paid is the mission. It takes a major mind-shift to get through this one.
- I don't have control. You'd think that as the sole owner and staff person of a business I'd have complete control, right? But I don't. My measures of success are all at the mercy of customers and shop owners. I can't just make something, put it up for sale, and be able to count when it will sell. That lack of control was staggeringly difficult for me.
- I work for myself! I've had some great supervisors in the past, and I've had some really crappy supervisors. Now I make all my own decisions without having to massage them in a way that makes them palatable to a higher-up. I may not have control over sales, but I have control over everything else. And that's incredibly liberating.
- I make stuff and search for neat vintage items for a living. Seriously. It's kind of awesome. When I'm sick of making one kind of thing I can go make another. Or I can go thrift store and antique store hunting. And it's my job. Instead of feeling guilty that I'm wasting my time when I could be doing work for my job, now this IS my job. I mean, how many people get to say that?
- No one can fire me. I'm no longer at the mercy of grant funding. No one is going to tell me that my program funding hasn't been renewed and my job will be to close down a program and lay people off. I don't have to justify my worthiness or my program outcomes to anyone to keep my job. After years of worrying about that stuff, it's amazing to have that taken off of my shoulders.
- My customers are fan-flippin-tastic. I mean it. The people who are attracted to my work tend to be hilarious, quirky, fabulous people and I love when I get to meet them in person at shows or exchange emails with them when they buy online. It's like I've found this secret club of interesting individuals who all like the same aesthetic that I do. And that's amazing.
- I can do this. For years I wondered if I had what it takes to run my own business successfully and, you know what? I do. Turns out that I love the business end of things. I love the financials, I love the spreadsheets, and I love the intellectual challenge of constantly looking for ways to innovate and streamline. I'm running an artisan business in one of the worst recessions in decades and I'm actually making a profit. I had record breaking sales on etsy in November and December, for crying out loud! I can totally do this.
So that's my year-end recap everyone. It's been a big year with heaps of ups and downs. It hasn't been even close to smooth sailing but I imagine that anyone who, for whatever reason, leaves full time employment to run a small business encounters much the same thing. I'm looking forward to 2012 and hope you are too. Thanks for following my blog, and may your year be full of happiness and good health, friends.
Monday, September 12, 2011
On Opening a Gallery
Wooh September, you've been a heck of a month and you're just getting started! Etsy sales are up and my studio looks like a tornado hit it while I've whipped through 10 bags, 3 frames, 8 dinosaur planters and 2 sewing machines (RIP, sewing machines). While I thought that I'd be less busy and stressed out as I transitioned from working two full time jobs to one (i.e. this studio), I was WRONG. Now that I have no boundaries for when I'm in the "office" and when I'm home, I work constantly. But it's exciting! I mean, seriously. Who gets to focus solely on doing work they're incredibly passionate about? That's right, I do. I love my studio. I love creating, especially when I have functioning sewing machines. It taps into my true self - not the persona I use in important business/government meetings when I have to be appropriate and dignified. My true self is outspoken, weird (a.k.a "interesting", "different" or "quirky" as I've been called many times), funny and creative. And I get to be that person again! It's a-maz-ing.
As I was, um, transitioning out of my federally funding job (i.e. laid off due to funding cuts), out of the blue my friend and fabulous photographer Mary Claire (www.carrollphotos.com - check her out) told me about a group of women artists in the Richmond area who were putting together a temporary gallery in Williston, VT for the holiday season. Now, I'm an idea kind of person. I love planning new opportunities and building things from scratch so this was right up my alley. They were looking for a few more artists to join the group and I was all over it. And so, after a few enthusiastic emails and a great meeting, I officially joined WAG, aka the Women Artist's Guild of Richmond. This is a pretty new concept. We'll staff the gallery, exhibit our own work, split the rent and operating costs, and keep the place in order, and in exchange we get a retail space for the holidays so we don't have to grind ourselves down by attending holiday craft show after holiday craft show. It's a great idea and I'm all in. We've been meeting constantly and I've been marketing my little social media heart out, so stay tuned. We'll be open from October 12 - December 22 at 6180 Williston Rd. in Williston, VT (the old Williston Driving Range right next to Maple Tree Place). In the mean time, feel free to follow our effort on facebook, on twitter @wagmarketvt or via our blog. You won't be sorry, because we're fantastic.
As I was, um, transitioning out of my federally funding job (i.e. laid off due to funding cuts), out of the blue my friend and fabulous photographer Mary Claire (www.carrollphotos.com - check her out) told me about a group of women artists in the Richmond area who were putting together a temporary gallery in Williston, VT for the holiday season. Now, I'm an idea kind of person. I love planning new opportunities and building things from scratch so this was right up my alley. They were looking for a few more artists to join the group and I was all over it. And so, after a few enthusiastic emails and a great meeting, I officially joined WAG, aka the Women Artist's Guild of Richmond. This is a pretty new concept. We'll staff the gallery, exhibit our own work, split the rent and operating costs, and keep the place in order, and in exchange we get a retail space for the holidays so we don't have to grind ourselves down by attending holiday craft show after holiday craft show. It's a great idea and I'm all in. We've been meeting constantly and I've been marketing my little social media heart out, so stay tuned. We'll be open from October 12 - December 22 at 6180 Williston Rd. in Williston, VT (the old Williston Driving Range right next to Maple Tree Place). In the mean time, feel free to follow our effort on facebook, on twitter @wagmarketvt or via our blog. You won't be sorry, because we're fantastic.
Friday, April 15, 2011
A Landmark and a Challenge
YESSS!!!! I've done it! 100 sales on etsy! For the record, I understand how completely arbitrary a distinction this is, but it's been a goal of mine for 2 years. I passed the $1,000 in sales this year mark in March, and now in April I've passed the 100 sales. Triple digits! WOOT!!! I can't quite tell you why, but I feel like this gives me more legitimacy. They like me! They really like me! (apologies to Sally Field for borrowing her oscar moment)...
I juggle Found Beauty Studio with a lot of other obligations. I'm the director of an AmeriCorps VISTA program as my day job, a volunteer guardian ad litem in the VT family court system, a board member for a local arts organization, a mentor, a fundraising consultant, and I try to fit being a good friend, sister, daughter, aunt, and partner in there too. I also aspire to be a counselor for children and adults with complex developmental trauma, and attend a lot of workshop and read a lot of books and research in that all too elusive spare time. To sum up, I'm busy and pulled in different directions. But the studio keeps me grounded. In a fantastic workshop I attended today on Trauma Stewardship, I heard yet again - yet really heard for the first time - that when we "overdeploy" ourselves, creativity is the first thing to go. This means that all creative thinking and problem solving, in addition to any sort of art, is beyond our capacity. And hoo boy have I ever felt that lately. But I'm trying hard to make this a continued priority in my life. It keeps me sane. It exercises a part of my brain I don't use enough. And, most importantly, it makes me happy. And for some reason, surpassing these sales goals has helped keep me motivated. They may be small successes, but I'll take what I can get.
Now for the challenge... A few weeks ago I picked up this absolutely atrocious skirt at good will:
Um, yes. It is indeed a full length heavily pleated rainbow wool skirt. I was visually offended and drawn to it in the same breath. It was my civic duty to make sure no one ever wore this again so I grabbed it off the rack and took it home. And mere minutes ago I turned it into a sweet purse. Photos to come :)
I juggle Found Beauty Studio with a lot of other obligations. I'm the director of an AmeriCorps VISTA program as my day job, a volunteer guardian ad litem in the VT family court system, a board member for a local arts organization, a mentor, a fundraising consultant, and I try to fit being a good friend, sister, daughter, aunt, and partner in there too. I also aspire to be a counselor for children and adults with complex developmental trauma, and attend a lot of workshop and read a lot of books and research in that all too elusive spare time. To sum up, I'm busy and pulled in different directions. But the studio keeps me grounded. In a fantastic workshop I attended today on Trauma Stewardship, I heard yet again - yet really heard for the first time - that when we "overdeploy" ourselves, creativity is the first thing to go. This means that all creative thinking and problem solving, in addition to any sort of art, is beyond our capacity. And hoo boy have I ever felt that lately. But I'm trying hard to make this a continued priority in my life. It keeps me sane. It exercises a part of my brain I don't use enough. And, most importantly, it makes me happy. And for some reason, surpassing these sales goals has helped keep me motivated. They may be small successes, but I'll take what I can get.
Now for the challenge... A few weeks ago I picked up this absolutely atrocious skirt at good will:
Um, yes. It is indeed a full length heavily pleated rainbow wool skirt. I was visually offended and drawn to it in the same breath. It was my civic duty to make sure no one ever wore this again so I grabbed it off the rack and took it home. And mere minutes ago I turned it into a sweet purse. Photos to come :)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Small Successes
I'll admit it, I have moments of extreme self-consciousness and low self-esteem when it comes to putting my creations out there into the world. I have been known to obsessively check to see how many people have viewed my items on etsy and favorited them. If no one favorites them, I second guess my work. If it doesn't sell, I second guess the entire endeavor. I've been plagued by doubt my entire life and while it's easy to be confident when all I get is positive feedback, it's unbelievable how fast that turns around when criticism comes my way. But I'm pleased to report a few successes:
First of all, I met the sales goal I set for June 1st! Granted, it was a low number when compared to what I make at my day job, but it was a huge jump over what I sold in all of 2010. And I reached it by March 18th. And I'm feeling really, really good about that :)
Second of all, I made it into the Queen City Craft Bazaar!!! I've never entered a juried show before and when I heard that it was really competitive this year, I was incredibly nervous - like checking my email constantly for news nervous. But I made it! This will be my first show having my own booth and I'm excited, terrified, doubtful, overjoyed, and a million other emotions all rolled into one. But mostly I'm just thrilled to have a way to connect to the people buying my work, since I'm pretty sure they're awesome.
So that's the update for now. I'll post tomorrow about a few truly fabulous vintage finds I scored over the weekend, but for now this is the big news. And I said I'd post about the good, the bad, and the ugly of growing a small artsy business, so here it is!
First of all, I met the sales goal I set for June 1st! Granted, it was a low number when compared to what I make at my day job, but it was a huge jump over what I sold in all of 2010. And I reached it by March 18th. And I'm feeling really, really good about that :)
Second of all, I made it into the Queen City Craft Bazaar!!! I've never entered a juried show before and when I heard that it was really competitive this year, I was incredibly nervous - like checking my email constantly for news nervous. But I made it! This will be my first show having my own booth and I'm excited, terrified, doubtful, overjoyed, and a million other emotions all rolled into one. But mostly I'm just thrilled to have a way to connect to the people buying my work, since I'm pretty sure they're awesome.
So that's the update for now. I'll post tomorrow about a few truly fabulous vintage finds I scored over the weekend, but for now this is the big news. And I said I'd post about the good, the bad, and the ugly of growing a small artsy business, so here it is!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I'm not dead, I'm just a bad blogger!
Uh oh... I, well, yes it's true...I've been a bad blogger! I've been posting on the Found Beauty Studio facebook page and have totally neglected this blog. Bad blogger!!! But I've also been spending a whole lot more time on Found Beauty Studio lately and am slowly building it as a business, which means that I also have a whole lot more to say. This is a huge decision for me. I have a full-time day job which has nothing to do with art, and it's a difficult balancing act to spend all day in an office and all nights and weekends working on projects for FBS. It's been pretty clear to me lately that everything I look forward to now happens during those nights and weekends. So I'm embarking on a journey. In the next couple of months, I'm hoping to move down to working fewer days a week behind a desk and more behind a sewing machine. I'll share that journey here.
Also, I'm pretty psyched that I learned how to add a My Etsy tab to the FBS facebook page yesterday! Small victories, but important ones :)
Also (again), if you haven't looked at my etsy site in a while you're in for a surprise. I've gone from the 10 - 15 items I was listing for quite some time to 50-60 items! So what are you waiting for? Go take a look already! :)
Also, I'm pretty psyched that I learned how to add a My Etsy tab to the FBS facebook page yesterday! Small victories, but important ones :)
Also (again), if you haven't looked at my etsy site in a while you're in for a surprise. I've gone from the 10 - 15 items I was listing for quite some time to 50-60 items! So what are you waiting for? Go take a look already! :)
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