A Little History, aka Where I've Been the Last Five Years

To follow up on my last post about my refusal to make any New Year's Resolutions other than "Be Kind to Yourself", I thought I should mention some of my goals.

First, some history. I worked on my first feature film, The Tailor, in 2005. I was smitten, and moved to LA to pursue film. (Side note: in 2010, an unscrupulous production company picked it up for a song, re-edited it, named it Gunfight at Yuma which has nothing to do with the storyline, and is apparently making money on it; but for a variety of reasons, primarily with regards to their lack of scruples, none of us who worked on it originally are making any money on this. But the costumes are AWESOME.)

My most well-known project was a Star Wars fan fic film called Forced Alliance, which can be seen here or here. I did extras costuming and also costumed the bartender and waitresses characters. I also did not get paid for this film, but the crew and actors were among the best I ever worked with.

After some ups and downs in the film industry, I sustained a serious back injury while on location for a really bad movie that I was costume designing. I was unable to walk more than two or three steps at a time for about three weeks. I had no health insurance and no savings, and the inability to walk made getting another job difficult.

Shortly after that, the awesome house I was renting in Echo Park went into foreclosure, unbeknownst to me and my roommates. The landlord disappeared with all of the rent money that she'd been collecting from us for the preceding year, and we were all given eviction notices by the mortgage company.

My best friend at the time (now my wife) was there for me through all of this turmoil. I was out of places to go, decided to move in with her for a while to get back on my feet, BECAUSE I LITERALLY COULDN'T WALK.

When I finally healed enough, I took a job in a call center to try to make some money while I figured out what to do next. I liked the people and the product, and I worked my way up in the company, eventually ending up in the Merchandising department.

I really, really loved my job in the Merchandising department. I was good at it, I was challenged, I loved the people I worked with, and I had the best boss ever.

Things changed, as they always do. My boss moved to Baltimore and her replacement was a bitter, angry, backstabbing, jealous, miserable human being who made my life sheer hell until finally I quit. I think that if I was less passionate, more able to deflect her pettiness, less impacted by being given decreasingly less responsibility, and better able to play the game, I might have stayed. But I've never been good at hiding my emotions, and it was a roller coaster until I finally quit.



In the middle of all of that, The Girl and I got married legally in California, and shortly after that, DOMA was overturned, making it easier for us to take care of each other, and overall making us feel more supported and secure as a couple.

Another side note: Marriage is AWESOME. There's a whole post about how amazing it felt to finally be married after having been engaged for three years and constantly worrying about our legal rights as a couple. And then there's another post about how terrific it is to be married to your best friend. And then there's another post about how much you and your spouse can annoy each other at times.






ANYWAY. I found a job in the merchandising department at another company, but it wasn't the same. I was doing work that required little creativity, was prohibited from making changes or improvements even in MY OWN DAMN WORKFLOW, and I was raked over the coals for every mistake, no matter how large or small. I was completely miserable and stressed out. At the same time, my wife was promoted, with more responsibility, a little bit more money, and a lot more stress in her job.

After long discussions and multiple attempts to make things work at my place of employment, my wife urged me to quit and find a way to do what I'd always wanted to do - as soon as I figured out what that was. She was making enough money to cover the bills, and we were almost completely out of debt (excepting student loans which, I believe, go on forever.)

So, in May of 2015, I quit again. For a while I was doing some writing for an SEO company that paid per word. It was fun, but for a perfectionist like me, not exactly lucrative. I'm also working on a novel, because goddess forbid I focus on one thing at a time.

I relaunched my etsy shop in the fall, and thanks to the lovely and amazing Katrina Walker, who uses one of my hams in some of her Craftsy classes, I've had a lot of interest in my hand-made pressing hams and seam rolls, and so I'm trying to focus on that. (BTW, she is an AMAZING educator and you should absolutely take one or all of her classes, either online or, if you're really lucky, in-person! You'll even see one of my hams used in her classes on Craftsy, because I am the luckiest person in the world)

So that's where I am now. I've had a lot of interest and I've had some good weeks on etsy, but I'm nowhere near being able to pay bills or do much more than buy groceries with the money I am making. My biggest challenge is the enormous amount of time it takes to make a single ham, contrasted with the amount of money I think people are willing to pay for one. I am working on ways to streamline the process while coming up with new ideas that I hope will be appealing to people.

Now it's a new year, and it's been over six months since I quit my day job. I thought I would have things figured out by now! I've been doing more sewing, more knitting, and more cooking and baking, but haven't made any of that profitable yet. It's s little frustrating, and I'm starting to really miss having a paycheck, but I'm still hoping to find the intersection of art and commerce that satisfies me.

Next post: my plans for the coming year. Probably. Unless I get sidetracked by something else which is always a possibility.

The Handmade Perception

There was a forum post on etsy recently that discussed, in part, the difficulty we sometimes have battling perceptions about the value of our time, the idea that because we are "just artists", we don't need to get paid, that we're doing it out of some altruistic need to fill the world with crafts, and the fear that in the current economic crisis, we will be hard hit. Many are considering lowering their prices, others are thinking about jumping ship, and a lot of us are just continuing to work hard, promote hard, and having nightmares about playing basketball in a swimming pool against Diana Taurasi (or maybe that's just me).

One person, about 100 posts in, said. "Guess we will never get rich at this game. It's done for love, most of the time."

Those of you who know me know that I wasn't going to let that one slide by. My response to her went like this:

"Yes and no. I do what I love and love what I do, but I fully intend to get rich doing it. I mean "rich" may be relative, but still -- I'm not doing it because I just want to spread my love for the world by making beautifully designed and carefully crafted handmade objects -- I'm doing it because I'm good at it! And I expect people to appreciate that, and show their appreciation by paying me what I deserve!"

It's hard sometimes, when you put something up on etsy, something that you've sweated and cried over, something that you've put everything you've ever learned about color and rhythm and line and balance and then you try to put a price tag on it and realize that no price is going to reflect your worth, and you battle with what you think it's worth and what you think people will actually pay for it, and it's tempting sometimes to jump on the latest trend (I'm talking to you, steampunk) just to make a quick buck, and maybe you don't even care if you're gluing crap together if you could just put new tires on the car and maybe even buy that shampoo you like.

It's hard, when your art is your living, and you're sitting there with your needles and yarn, or your paintbrush and a mask, and doing battle with yourself because what you WANT to do, what your inner artist is TELLING you to do, may not bring in the hundreds of dollar that it should, and you have to find that delicate balance where you're not selling yourself short, but you ARE making more than oh, say, 50 cents an hour. And you have to remind yourself that even if you CAN put the tires off for another month, you're still going to need gas. And then you sigh, and knit garter stitch instead of some fabulous lace pattern, and you applique instead of doing intarsia, and you use a die-cut shape instead of creating your own. And you hope that you're still being true to yourself. And the day suddenly seems very long.

I hate to use a basketball analogy again (actually that's not true, I love using a basketball analogy, and the college basketball season is finally starting, so it's on my mind) but we were watching UConn play (it was really more of a slaughter) San Diego State last night. There was never any doubt that UConn would win. They are, quite simply, the superior team, in both experience and content. I asked Jules, "How do you go into a game knowing that you're going to lose? What does the coach say to you in the locker room when the other team has exactly twice as many points on the boards?"

She explained that you can't, you don't, look at it like that. You don't focus on winning or losing, you focus on your goals. You focus on how many shots you can block, on how many possessions you can overturn, you -- and here's the crux of it, I think -- you "play every possession."

This does actually relate to the above discussion. I think as artisans, we sometimes get lost in the big picture. I know that lately, as I've been madly sewing and knitting, I'm so worried about getting enough "product" on my site in the hopes of off-the-charts sales this coming Black Friday and Cyber Monday, that I've lost the joy of what I'm doing. If I do that, then I may as well go back to selling "heads in beds" (hotel slang for occupancy), or answering phones. Because at least then I would have health insurance.

And when I've spent so much time on an item that I would have to price it far, far above what the market will bear, I take a good hard look at what it is that's taking me so long, and whether I could achieve that differently, and whether if maybe I should not be making that particular thing. As I mentioned before, it's a delicate balance.

For a few brief minutes last night, when I was beading an ornament made from an upcycled snowflake sweater, I was just in the moment. I was admiring the sheen of the czech glass beads, and marveling at the lovely symmetry of the snowflake, and enjoying the sensual feeling of the needle slipping into the bead and then through the wool, and simply enjoying what I do. And it was kind of great.

As I contemplated pricing on this little lovely, I bounced around from $24 to $8. My roommate thinks I should "price it to move" and there is that temptation to slash prices in order to make sales, and I understand that urge, really I do, but in the long run, it doesn't just hurt you as a business, it hurts every artisan who is trying to make a living and charging what would equate to a living wage.

And it's a constant struggle. There are always the people who are going to sell something cheaper than you. They don't realize that when they sell something for $9.50 and it took them 3 hours to make, they're selling themselves short. And maybe the people for whom it is "just a hobby" -- that's ok.

But for me, it's a business. That means that not only am I constantly monitoring my prices, other people's prices, my return on investment, the cost of supplies, and the relative sanity of my brain from monitoring all of this on any given day, but I'm also constantly striving for perfection. I want that basket/mask/pincushion to be PERFECT, and not just because I want to be able to charge the big bucks for it, but because I want to be able to take pride in what I do. Sure, I could jump on the steampunk bandwagon, or make something with owls/birds/scrabble tile pendants. But more importantly, I need to be true to myself.

So I'm making hams out of recycled sweaters and shibori fabric. I'm making little bracelet pincushions out of someone else's "trash". I'm making christmas ornaments out of beer bottle caps. I don't know if anyone will buy them. But they're beautiful, and I am proud to stand behind them. I look at my little shop on etsy, and I'm proud to say, "I did that." And I'll keep doing it. And I'll see how it goes, and I'll be flexible. But I'm still going to be true to myself.

This all goes back to what I was talking about a few weeks ago: believing in yourself, and fear of failure.

So my fellow etsians, don't lose heart! I really do believe we are at the forefront of a revolution in changing peoples perceptions about what they buy and where it comes from. It's up to us to set the standard for that, and then defend that standard. And I believe that part of that is educating our consumer about what we do, how and why we do it, and why they should support us doing it!

Because I believe in us. I really do.

My Favorite Things

I've been spending some time in the Virtual Labs on Etsy lately, and one of the things that thrills me about this is the opportunity to interact with so many different sellers with such unique talents and points of view. So here are a few of my favorite things.

Kate of Organic Odysseys uses her organic farm for both inspiration and raw materials.

She uses polymer clay to capture in minute detail the nuances of the plant, then finishes each piece by hand through a process of firing, sanding, and painting. I don't entirely understand it, but the results are breathtaking.



This is one of her latest. (Pic above, or click on "this" to go to her shop) I find the delicacy and detail astonishing. Not to mention that I can't get over how cool it is that she's taking impressions from an actual plant, and making jewelry out of it! To me, is seems that she has captured my passion for the earth in jewelry -- really, what could be more magical than that?

I fell in love with these from the moment I saw them:



I love the way she's used the bronze to highlight the detail of the tomato, then used the green to add a "patina". And I especially love that the back of the earring is an impression of the tomato leaf!

You can also read her blog to find out more about how and why she does this! And you should see the things she does with tiny little eggplant (which, as you may have guessed from my previous entries, I am in love with.)

Another seller I found during this same lab is Livia, known as SmallPaintings on etsy. Her work is so charming and whimsical. Wouldn't this be so sweet in a childs bedroom?




Another that I love is Wild. It's like she knows how I feel inside, takes the secret magical parts, and paints them. I would love to hang this in my studio.



She's also done some beautiful children's books, and you can see more of her work on her website:

By the way, I asked both of these wonderful sellers for permission to post photos of their work and to link to them.

And in case anyone out there drew my name for Christmas this year -- yes, I would love anything from either of these shops!

Mask-making

Several years ago, a friend of mine who owned a little shop on Pearl Street in La Jolla hired me to make some masks for her to sell during the holiday shopping season. Although they sold well, (well, they sold out!) she and her husband embarked on a new business venture shortly after, and closed their shop.

For years I've been wanting to get back to making these. They combine a lot of things I love: sculpture, painting, and recycling! Plus they are wearable art, and draw from a centuries-old commedia tradition in Italy.

The process is simple, but time-consuming. I start with a positive plaster mold of a face. I then build clay up on the face until I get the shape I want. I mix some plaster of paris, pour it over the clay, and, after it hardens, I have a negative that I paper-mache into.

Although there are a lot of new products available for paper-mache art, I stick to the classics: newspaper and wheat paste. I started adding in brown paper bags for a little strength.

After building up about a dozen mache layers, I let the masks dry, remove them from the molds, and start sanding and shaping them. After the first sanding, I paint them with a light coat of acrylic paint. Then I can see where more sanding is needed, and I cut out the eye holes.

At this point, I remembered to take a picture! Here's a pile o'masks midway through the sanding process:



The next step will be to coat them with a layer of gesso, do any final sanding, and then, at long last, I get to the fun part: the decorative painting and embellishing.

I can't wait!