Abandon Your Art!

I'm having one of those weeks where so much seems pointless and hollow, marketing my work is exhausting, and all I want to do is hole up in my studio, retreat from the world, and make things.  So I did just that.  Instead of feeling guilty, I decided to see what good I could create from my agoraphobic episode.  Turns out, a lot of good was just waiting there in the wings. 

Have you ever heard of the Abandoned Art movement?  I hadn't until a month or so ago, and I've been so intrigued by it.  The idea is that the world needs more art.  People need more joy.  So folks like me who are going to obsessively create can put all that art to good use and leave it out in public places for others to find and love.  And I've been abandoning a ton! 

It's strangely cathartic to leave a piece of work out in the world without knowing what will happen to it.  I like to imagine that each has at least made someone smile when they came upon it.  Maybe my little creations have found new happy homes.  Maybe they were tossed aside and stepped on.  It's out of my control.  No matter what, it's been good for me.  I'm really, really skilled at losing touch with the world when I feel overwhelmed.  But this idea of reaching out anonymously to others with art has kept me firmly planted in the realm outside my door.  I've made it a point every day to go out and abandon at least one work somewhere random.  It's helped me see the sidewalks and crevices and little tiny hollows just waiting for a little piece of art with new eyes.  Every trip is a scavenger hunt for a new location.  Thank goodness for it.  Bringing a little beauty into the world has helped save me from myself.

I highly recommend it.

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 :)

The Benefit of Getting Away From it All

For three years I've neglected to join my partner's family Fourth of July camping trip in a field by his grandfather's house in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont.  I've just never been a camping kind of gal, and I have a nasty health issue that makes me pass out when it gets above 85 degrees and burn to a crisp in the sun.  But today we went to spend the day and I'm so sorry I ever missed it before.  I was surrounded by nature, a babbling brook that I happily tromped barefoot through, a gaggle of loving and hilarious family members, and the most adorable puppy named Lucky.  It's been far too long since I was away from a cell phone signal, an internet connection, the ever-present responsibility of checking my email, and the feeling of dread that I'm wasting any moment at home when I'm not working on projects for my etsy store.  This, my friends, was a well needed respite.  The moral of this quick blog post?  Do not neglect self care.  It's oh so easy to do in this world of 24-7 work and responsibility, but it's not healthy.  And I say that as a life long workaholic.  Did you hear me other type A workaholics?  IT'S NOT HEALTHY.  That constant backache, throbbing in your frontal lobe, and dry red eyes - yeah, you know what I'm talking about - that's not normal.  That pit of your stomach knot that never goes away?  Also not normal.  Toss the phone for a weekend.  Leave the house and/or studio.  Put down the brush/thread/hook/needles/wax/fiber/whatever your drug of choice is/ and take a break.  The guilt will pass.  I promise.  And you'll feel better.  And you'll be happier when you get back to it.  Seriously. 

Why are you still reading this?  Go now!