I have a very vivid memory of playing on the kitchen floor in our first Massachusetts home, but instead of dolls or stuffed animals, I was playing with crayons and colored pencils. Not just drawing, but giving each item a name, an identiy, and a storyline. The pink colored pencil was going to marry the green crayon (obviously). That was until the orange crayon butted in and ruined everything. I also created a version of the “Star Spangled Banner” but replaced a bunch of the words. Oh say can you see, the yellow line I drew…
I always loved drawing and creating stories. Sometimes I loved the creating stories more than the drawing. That love followed me through my teen years when I started journaling and taking more art classes at school. Truth be told: I was never a great artist in the technical sense. I couldn’t and still can’t render to save my life. I had no interest in learning about what paints to use for what type of project. I continue to have a hard time focusing on long-term projects. I often had dreams of starting my own business selling goods I could barely create. As you’ll see in the next few posts not a lot has changed.
What I really loved about art and creativity was playing and failing. I didn’t want to master oil paints or practice shading because that felt too serious and controlled. And I didn’t need to master oil paints or practice shading because that wasn’t the kind of art that I wanted to make. (Although now I do wish I had spent more time learning technical skills. It’s amazing how many times drawing comes up in social events and everyone looks at the person they know who went to art school with high expectations. I am not, nor will I ever be, the person you want on your Pictionary team.) I wanted to try a little bit of everything and make pieces that had greater meaning, and that represented me and my stories.
I graduated from high school just as the 2008 recession was starting to impact smaller communities like where I grew up. My parents always had side gigs to generate extra income. My dad did yard work along with his 60-hour a week retail job. My mom taught continuing education classes at a college along with her 60-hour week reporting job. I was raised on the idea of a side hustle. I wanted to go to art school to pursue a career as a photojournalist. It seemed almost by default that the assumption was I could then have a side hustle that was selling pieces I made via local art markets or, the then newly established site, Etsy.
I didn’t have the vocabulary developed to say how I felt about that (I’m still working on that vocabulary every day). The questions I had then are still the ones I grapple with today: Why? When? How? And what?
Why should that side hustle be a creative one?
As a full-time student with a part-time job, when would I find the time to create work to sell?
How would I go about creating enough work to have a steady side-income?
And, what would I even make?
Comments