Five Things I Learned in my First Year as a Working Artist

1. Embrace seasonal ebbs and flows, as well as creative ones.

I made zero sales on Etsy in June this year. Zero. At times during the month I would see this number and start to spiral a little, thinking of the dollars I was withdrawing from savings to cover my groceries or cobble together for rent. But while my Etsy shop sat pretty empty and neglected, my cabin was filling more and more with woven goods I was making for the Grand Marais Art Festival. July proceeded to be my best sales month yet. 

Sales ebbs and flows are to be expected in business, of course. Often they coincide with seasons, events, and holidays (winter holidays = flow; summer online sales = ebb). The ebbs can be stressful, but I am learning that as long as I remain true to the heart of my work, explore what I find inspiring and exciting, and continue to do what I love, that the flows will eventually come. 

Artists and creatives have another kind of variation to deal with: creative ebbs and flows. These are a little harder to predict. Usually, I am drawn to the loom every day. My days are formed around this magnetic pull - everything else I do is just getting me closer to get to that creative sanctuary. But not always. Sometimes it takes me an entire day to weave one coaster. Lifting the shuttle stick to weave a row feels a laborious as lifting a heavy barbell. Beyond just times when the act of weaving feels impossible, there are times post-collection release or post-sale when I wonder if I’ll ever weave anything good again. If I’ve tapped out my creative reserve of images and ideas for new designs. 

But, so far at least, with some intention rest, hiking, reading, and conversations with friends, the energy comes back. A vista I see on a drive along the North Shore or an ice formation on a winter hike on the Superior Hiking Trail offers a new well of inspiration. I am learning to trust that cycle of creativity, and to respect the emptied-out, blank slate phase as maybe the most exciting, because anything could happen. 

2. For me, outside income from part-time work is a help, not a hindrance to my life as a working artist. 

Maybe someday I’ll desire to have North Woven Goods provide my sole income. For now, I have multiple income streams completely unrelated to weaving: I am an independent vacation rental cleaner (a very in-demand role in Grand Marais, where tourism is a huge part of the local economy) for four cabins, and I am a vintage clothing reseller. I own all of these roles, and they each provide me with something different. 

Cleaning gets me out of the house almost every day and provides a built-in workout, as it is very physically intensive work. It’s not glamorous, but I prefer it to any sort of office or other service job. I work alone and can listen to business podcasts and audiobooks. I can get out of my head for a bit and into my body. 

Reselling is a new venture for me - I’ve been at it for about a year. I have always loved thrift store shopping, and reselling involves sifting through racks and racks of clothes to find vintage treasures. So far, it’s helped me pay off my private student loans and start saving for a down payment on a house. It is also a fun creative outlet! 

Of course, weaving is my passion, thing I think about when I go to sleep and when I wake up. The fact that I get to do it for a living continues to blow me away, and I am grateful for all the pieces of the puzzle enabling me to do just that.  

3. Outside income doesn’t make me (or anyone) any less of a working artist. 

Full-time artist, part-time _______ (fill in the blank).

Just because I work part-time as an independent cleaner in my town doesn’t make me any less of a full-time artist. Early on I felt like I wasn’t allowed to call myself a full-time artist, even though I put in well over 40 hours a week on weaving, because I have other sources of income. Over time I have shifted my mindset. All artists work to diversify their income streams!

Just like art sales ebb and flow according to season, so does my cleaning work. Sometimes the busy seasons coincide, like summer vacation rentals and art festivals, but sometimes they are mercifully staggered - the lead up to the holiday art sales is “off-season” for tourism; busy ski season here in Grand Marais is January and February, when I usually need a break post-holidays from weaving. 

Certainly, this is a very niche combination that works in my specific small town and for my specific financial needs. But the broader lesson is, niche combinations exist! I found the right one that works for me and my art business and for my physical and mental health, right now. Five years down the road it might look entirely different, and I am okay with that. In the meantime, even with outside work, I am owning the title “full-time artist”.

4. I can’t compare my business to anyone else's, no matter how hard that is. 

I am still new at this. I repeat that to myself when I see other artists selling out collections in minutes. This is my first art festival. I reminded myself as I watched swarms of people at other booths, lining up to purchase another artist’s products.  

As an emerging artist it is so easy to get lost in peering over at what others are doing. Comparison is natural, but making art is intensely personal and completely individual. And as a result, any business leading from that artwork is bound to be the same. I can’t compare my sales, business growth, social media presence, website, or anything else to another artist because each of our businesses are intensely, and wholly, individual. And that is a beautiful thing.

5. I do work all the time, and I love it!

But there are different kinds of work that require varied levels of attention, creativity, and energy. Over time I’ve figured out how to structure my days around those different kinds of work so that I don’t feel overworked or find myself burning out from always working. 

Actual weaving work is the most intensive, requiring the most attention, skill, and energy. I usually do this work in the mornings and afternoons (depending on my more time-sensitive outside work, like cleaning). Weaving-adjacent work, such as sewing in the ends and cleaning up the backs of weavings, can be done in my recliner with my cat on my lap, watching a show on Hulu. Even though this is still important work for my business, it feels like vegging out. I look forward to it as a reward for all the other hard work I’ve done, and I think it helps me stay motivated throughout the day knowing I’ll get that chill out time in the evening.

I am so excited for what the next year of entrepreneurship will offer in more lessons, challenges, and growth!

Are you a working artist or entrepreneur? Can you relate to any of these lessons?