art v sales
Ooh, it's been that long since I used my blog! I guess I haven't felt like I desperately need to whine or rage or work out issues. I don't use this to communicate with someone, as much as to give myself an outlet for the mental shit that nobody wants to hear.
So there's not been much lately, I've been calm, trying not to think outside of the current agenda on any given day.
Lucky is ill and it's costing us the money I was going to spend on getting Timmy's teeth cleaned and most likely will eat into my new computer hopes too. Part of me selfishly wants to just put the animal down and get on with my life, but I would miss him too much and so would Toby. Why the hell is the old one so healthy and the young one so sick? Damn.
I tried selling boxes on Saturday. I sold one, and the nicest one I had of course. The new owner is certainly worthy of it, but it's the hard part about selling things like this, the ones that make the whole collection look better always go first.
I am hoping that if I do this every saturday for awhile I'll find success as people start deciding to bring along enough cash for the box they admired a week or two ago and still want. The spot on broadway where I set up would certainly allow me to use the smart car tailgate as a display table so I'll try that since my bike setup seemed to make people think I was homeless and they looked past me a lot. I found that weird. I was sitting on the ground with a beach shelter behind me, my wares on a blanket in front of me. I was in a clean light coloured skirt and my stuff was all shiny and bright and clean, including the bike and quality bike trailer. There wasn't a thing about me that was homeless except that I was on the ground instead of on tables and chairs. But bringing tables and chair may be possible on a bike, however the increased setup time, the higher level of wind nuisance and mechanical issues (the table could topple easily and spill my stuff on the dirt) make the idea noxious to me. So but the car would clearly say "I'm not a beggar" because it's gorgeous and shiny and odd, and then people wouldn't be afraid to engage me, perhaps. I can also pack up quickly when I need to pee, lock it without having to take it along, and go find a bathroom. When I returned, customers who'd missed me could be waiting for me to get back.
Downside is, the lot isn't signed for parking and the freedom to use it can and will vanish without warning. I could, however, pay for all day Pimp parking (dumb name but that's how it looks on the signs) if that's what they do with it. Usually they do, they put up a pay machine in the corner and a few concrete curbs to help line up the cars, then they make you pay to park in the empty lot. I could easily enough pay if the spot is open where I need it by the sidewalk. It's cheap enough to invest.
The other downside, though, is when the city or local merchants should decide to stop vending in the lot if it gets popular or someone just hates it. All they need to do is send in the police to tell us we're not allowed without a vending license or business license (I should totally bring along my Villa Sub Rosa business license and see if I can use that). Hehe, hang it in my car and say "oh no, I'm licensed for construction and interior decoration and I've constructed these items as interior decor."
It's a good bet they'd at least fail to fine me if not just leave me alone.
So on Saturday I had almost made a sale, it seemed, but the guy never came back so he must have changed his mind. The price gets them every time. They just can't see that it's worth what I'm asking. It makes me want to raise the price to what it's really worth! Nevermind, I'm stuck up against the capitalist market ethos wherein a thing is worth only what you can get for it. It's that ethos that values living things as well as artifacts, tools, and regular consumable goods alike as worth merely as much as can exchanged for it. So some of the most precious things in our lives, those things we love more dear than daily consumed goods, become worthless and not worth investing maintenance, care, or time. Things include our old home, the people (animals too) that populate our lives, and the pretty things that take heart and love to create. Once it hasn't got "market value" we aren't motivated to invest anything anymore, as a society. So old houses rot and the carpentry is lost forever. Relationships disintegrate and we value them even less, the less we invest. Precious handiwork that injects a thing with life and soul becomes silly crafts for old women's shelves. Children become nascent workers with their lives and goals written for them before they even learn who they are. Animals are killed to save the cost of health care. Food animals are treated like mindless moving meat to be grown with the least input costs. Corners get cut, materials get cheapened, and techniques become simplified enough for even untrained people to achieve.
We're losing art, love, compassion, and respect in the translation.
So too, local artists are being left out of the conversation because they aren't profitable enough. Unless and until the market decides they're high-value, almost nobody is interested. An artist simply cannot hope to support even a basic single lifestyle, let alone pursue the usual life goals of humans of having a relationship and possibly raising a family. How do you date when you cannot afford to go to the cafe or eat regular meals, or worse, pay for a roof over your head? You will always be the one who isn't working at a "real job." You'll always be the one who can't afford "it." Group of people going for beers, but they'll have to carry you if you're coming along because you don't have beer money. They'll probably have to buy you food too because you couldn't afford dinner today. Then maybe one of them will have to drive you home because you don't have wheels or even bus fare. Well it goes on and on, really. But if one is an artist, one must be pretty much adopted by someone or able to give up being an artist and become a worker like everyone else. If you're very lucky, you may be able to find a job that lets you express some of that art, but it's rare and heavily confined.
Generally, you need sales skills to earn money. Regardless of your other skills. You have to sell yourself, your work, your ideas, your product, over and over, to co-workers, bosses, and clients, day in and day out. Artists create and creativity occurs in opposition to sales talent. The more you have of one, the less you have of the other. I've seen it, I've witnessed it in action on the ground both personally, and around me. Artists need a partner to market them, or their art is mostly marketing and very little creative life.
I suppose you could think of it this way, marketing and sales is the art of dishonesty, but truly creative work is the art of honesty. It's the honest expression of a person. How can you pull the truth out of your heart clean and pure, and yet play a game of lies to sell the outcome?
So there's not been much lately, I've been calm, trying not to think outside of the current agenda on any given day.
Lucky is ill and it's costing us the money I was going to spend on getting Timmy's teeth cleaned and most likely will eat into my new computer hopes too. Part of me selfishly wants to just put the animal down and get on with my life, but I would miss him too much and so would Toby. Why the hell is the old one so healthy and the young one so sick? Damn.
I tried selling boxes on Saturday. I sold one, and the nicest one I had of course. The new owner is certainly worthy of it, but it's the hard part about selling things like this, the ones that make the whole collection look better always go first.
I am hoping that if I do this every saturday for awhile I'll find success as people start deciding to bring along enough cash for the box they admired a week or two ago and still want. The spot on broadway where I set up would certainly allow me to use the smart car tailgate as a display table so I'll try that since my bike setup seemed to make people think I was homeless and they looked past me a lot. I found that weird. I was sitting on the ground with a beach shelter behind me, my wares on a blanket in front of me. I was in a clean light coloured skirt and my stuff was all shiny and bright and clean, including the bike and quality bike trailer. There wasn't a thing about me that was homeless except that I was on the ground instead of on tables and chairs. But bringing tables and chair may be possible on a bike, however the increased setup time, the higher level of wind nuisance and mechanical issues (the table could topple easily and spill my stuff on the dirt) make the idea noxious to me. So but the car would clearly say "I'm not a beggar" because it's gorgeous and shiny and odd, and then people wouldn't be afraid to engage me, perhaps. I can also pack up quickly when I need to pee, lock it without having to take it along, and go find a bathroom. When I returned, customers who'd missed me could be waiting for me to get back.
Downside is, the lot isn't signed for parking and the freedom to use it can and will vanish without warning. I could, however, pay for all day Pimp parking (dumb name but that's how it looks on the signs) if that's what they do with it. Usually they do, they put up a pay machine in the corner and a few concrete curbs to help line up the cars, then they make you pay to park in the empty lot. I could easily enough pay if the spot is open where I need it by the sidewalk. It's cheap enough to invest.
The other downside, though, is when the city or local merchants should decide to stop vending in the lot if it gets popular or someone just hates it. All they need to do is send in the police to tell us we're not allowed without a vending license or business license (I should totally bring along my Villa Sub Rosa business license and see if I can use that). Hehe, hang it in my car and say "oh no, I'm licensed for construction and interior decoration and I've constructed these items as interior decor."
It's a good bet they'd at least fail to fine me if not just leave me alone.
So on Saturday I had almost made a sale, it seemed, but the guy never came back so he must have changed his mind. The price gets them every time. They just can't see that it's worth what I'm asking. It makes me want to raise the price to what it's really worth! Nevermind, I'm stuck up against the capitalist market ethos wherein a thing is worth only what you can get for it. It's that ethos that values living things as well as artifacts, tools, and regular consumable goods alike as worth merely as much as can exchanged for it. So some of the most precious things in our lives, those things we love more dear than daily consumed goods, become worthless and not worth investing maintenance, care, or time. Things include our old home, the people (animals too) that populate our lives, and the pretty things that take heart and love to create. Once it hasn't got "market value" we aren't motivated to invest anything anymore, as a society. So old houses rot and the carpentry is lost forever. Relationships disintegrate and we value them even less, the less we invest. Precious handiwork that injects a thing with life and soul becomes silly crafts for old women's shelves. Children become nascent workers with their lives and goals written for them before they even learn who they are. Animals are killed to save the cost of health care. Food animals are treated like mindless moving meat to be grown with the least input costs. Corners get cut, materials get cheapened, and techniques become simplified enough for even untrained people to achieve.
We're losing art, love, compassion, and respect in the translation.
So too, local artists are being left out of the conversation because they aren't profitable enough. Unless and until the market decides they're high-value, almost nobody is interested. An artist simply cannot hope to support even a basic single lifestyle, let alone pursue the usual life goals of humans of having a relationship and possibly raising a family. How do you date when you cannot afford to go to the cafe or eat regular meals, or worse, pay for a roof over your head? You will always be the one who isn't working at a "real job." You'll always be the one who can't afford "it." Group of people going for beers, but they'll have to carry you if you're coming along because you don't have beer money. They'll probably have to buy you food too because you couldn't afford dinner today. Then maybe one of them will have to drive you home because you don't have wheels or even bus fare. Well it goes on and on, really. But if one is an artist, one must be pretty much adopted by someone or able to give up being an artist and become a worker like everyone else. If you're very lucky, you may be able to find a job that lets you express some of that art, but it's rare and heavily confined.
Generally, you need sales skills to earn money. Regardless of your other skills. You have to sell yourself, your work, your ideas, your product, over and over, to co-workers, bosses, and clients, day in and day out. Artists create and creativity occurs in opposition to sales talent. The more you have of one, the less you have of the other. I've seen it, I've witnessed it in action on the ground both personally, and around me. Artists need a partner to market them, or their art is mostly marketing and very little creative life.
I suppose you could think of it this way, marketing and sales is the art of dishonesty, but truly creative work is the art of honesty. It's the honest expression of a person. How can you pull the truth out of your heart clean and pure, and yet play a game of lies to sell the outcome?