With Discovery, A Realization

  There has been a bit of upheaval, of late.
  With the invitation to outside investors, Etsy also invited a lot of scrutiny, which led to some of those same investors realizing, rather late in the game, that Etsy hosts a rather large number of sellers who vend items that infringe upon the copyrights of well-known companies, like Disney, and Sanrio.
   I’m talking about that Hello Kitty necklace and that baby blanket featuring Elsa from “Frozen.”
  Yup, unless the vendor paid to license those characters from their parent companies, they’re likely infringing upon a copyright/trademark by utilizing that imagery on their items (with some exceptions).

Etsy holds a summit on manufacturing in their marketplace

  And once some of the investors who purchased Etsy stock at $30/share and watched it tumble to $16/share shortly after “discovered” these items in the Etsy marketplace, suddenly, they became a problem.
  Of course, you can purchase the same infringing items on Ebay, on Alibaba (where many vendors openly rip-off reputable Etsy artisans and imitate their items/infringe upon their copyrights), and a million other sites, but the rip-offs are a bit less visible when they’re being pumped out by the thousands by large overseas manufacturers tacking-on fake designer labels than an independent artist illustrating an homage to a character they love from a film.
  And then, there’s also not a share price drop to think of with those other companies, either.
   The lawsuit is a loser, as a basic Etsy search would’ve given these investors all the info they needed, and no one can make up for your unwillingness to do your homework.
   But the kerfuffle did bring into focus this whole issue of manufacturing, and the role it plays in the business of art-making.

"Elsa"-inspired crocheted hat, via Etsy

  Many of us, who hand-make our art, whether we’re willing to vocalize it or not, envision these massive, overseas sweatshop-style businesses, that have zero interest in quality, running ginormous machines day and night, spitting out replica after replica of meaningless, rip-off junk, paying dozens of workers pennies to put sloppy finishing touches on before the onslaught of under-priced garbage floods our marketplace.   And then our work, that we slave over, that takes us forever to complete, that we actually care about, that we’re already under-pricing because if we priced it correctly it’d never sell, gets buried in that market, because these manufacturers are getting better and better at faking it.
  But the reality is a bit different.  I’ve done the math, many of us have.  I know, to make a living at what I do, to sell my pieces at the prices I do, to make enough pieces to sell, to achieve any of the goals I have for my life, to buy a home, to travel, it is simply unrealistic to continue hand-making art, one-by-one, and selling at affordable prices.  There are some artists who are exceptions, I imagine, who transition seamlessly from doing crappy art-school paintings to selling individual pieces regularly for $500,000 apiece, with no selling-out in between.  I know a guy.  But they’re exceptions.  And they also bypass the mass-marketplace and go straight to high-end; their work is reserved for the rarefied few who can afford “aaahhht.”
  Any artist who starts to achieve some success at their chosen medium has to figure out how to do what Etsy calls “scaling up.”  I will define it as, “making/selling your stuff in a way that allows you to make enough money to live, but not to go insane/die of exhaustion, but also, achieve your goals.”  And it looks different for every artist.

   I recently heard an interview with Jonathan Adler, of ceramic vase fame, on NPR, and he was talking about how he made it as an artist.  It was a good story, of landing his pots in Barney’s early in his career and taking off from there.

Jonathan Adler, making a pot on the Martha Stewart Show

  I literally watched Jonathan Adler “become.”  I used to watch him on Martha Stewart’s show, showing off his vases, how he made them, etc.  And now he’s an industry, with stores everywhere, and his name is synonymous with “style.”
  But his interview was bullshit.  Because Jonathan Adler probably hasn’t made a freakin’ vase in years.  He probably hasn’t touched a single object in any of his stores in years, he probably doesn’t even know what they sell.  He has a “design brand,” now.  He’s not a famous artist, though he sold himself as one, in this interview.  He’s rich, he’s famous, he has indeed succeeded, but is he a successful artist, if he doesn’t actually MAKE any art any more?  If his success hasn’t come from his art, but from his merchandising, his branding, his expansion into other arenas?
And that difference struck me like a brick.  Because I went into an online artists’ group recently, during a period where I was working through a ton of online orders I’d received on the same day, many of them for the same item, and so I was making almost the same item over and over, my hands were cramping and I was sick of seeing this piece I once loved the design-of.  I wanted to smash it and refuse to make it again.  I was just weary of making things for other people, pieces that felt like they had nothing of me in them any more.  I was satisfying my customers, but not myself.

  And I asked if these other artists in the group ever felt like they were one-person-sweatshops, and just didn’t want to do it any more

Me sculpting a miniature pig for a Hieropice pendant

sometimes.  And several of them totally could relate, but several said, “oh come on, that’s a great problem to have!”
  I literally made ‘sad-face’ upon reading that.
  A great problem to have?!  I knew what they must be thinking, that to have people wanting the things you’ve created, to be willing to spend money on them, and to have steady business is indeed a good thing for an artist.  It’s often the goal when you’re in art school, to “make a living as an artist.”  Huzzah!  Success!
But I also realized, a person who could see this as a “good problem” is not an artist.
   I hadn’t realized until that moment, that perhaps not all of us who are making things and selling them are, in fact, artists.  Or would even call ourselves such.  Our motivations may not be the same.  Some are creating because they enjoy the act of it, and are selling as a bonus.  It’s a pass-time, or a hobby.
  Some are creating because they’re simply able to, they may not always enjoy it, but it brings in income.  They could stop tomorrow and move on to something else they find more interesting.
Some are creating specifically to make revenue, and will, whenever possible, remove themselves from the creative process.  Making is a means to an end, and they are looking for the best possible way to monetize it.
   I’m creating because I feel I’m an artist, it’s my identity, not my hobby or my job.  The urge was there before I sold a thing, before Etsy or craft shows.  I don’t really have a choice whether to create; in fact, I tried majoring in Psycho-Pharmacology in college, but ended up spending all of my time doing artwork instead of reading my textbooks.  Because creating is my passion and the thing that drives me.  I don’t really care whether I sell things (though I very much appreciate that customers are willing to purchase my wares), but I very much care about the integrity of what I create, its originality and quality, and I also very much care about whether I enjoy doing it.  So when it feels rote, repetitive, and divorced of my creativity any more, I don’t want to do it.
   So if I’m honest, I’m fearful of reaching that Jonathan Adler moment.  When I realize I’m not going to achieve the success I want if I insist on my own hands touching each piece of artwork that is sold with my name on it.  It’s very well-accepted in the fashion industry; you know Versace didn’t sew a stitch on that dress you bought, but it still commands the price.  But I still despise the idea of not creating my work with my hands, and I don’t see the manufacturing process as a part of Hieropice’s future.

A collection of Maasai-beaded coasters that I photographed in Tanzania

  When I began, I envisioned working with Maasai women in Tanzania in creating Hieropice's Maasai-beaded line, and I hope to still see that come to fruition, one day.  I wanted to improve upon the traditional beading technique, build up the visibility of my Maasai-inspired pieces here in the West, and head back to TZ to train a small cooperative to create the pieces with me, using fine materials and my designs.  No machines, just women, hand-beading with a (modified) technique that originated in their own community, bringing revenue back into that same community.  That’s about as far away from my own hands as I’m ever willing to go, I think.  Not far.

*Disclaimer – I actually love Jonathan Adler’s stuff, no hating here!  Props to you, Jonathan Adler.

Controversy!

  

    So, you folks know that I primarily sell Hieropice’s wares on Etsy, a site for handmade crafts/art.  The sale of vintage goods (more than 20 years old) and supplies (for making art/craft) are also sold on Etsy.
  Periodically, the admins at Etsy will choose a shop to feature on their front page.  They’ll interview the shop’s artisans, post their photos and photos of their work, all on Etsy’s homepage, and it typically gives a massive boost to a shop’s sales.   Naturally, lots of us on Etsy would love to be featured!
  But recently, a controversy ensued over a shop Etsy chose to feature, called Ecologica Malibu, that specializes in furniture made from reclaimed wood from boats.  The impression given from the original article, which has since been modified to reflect recent disclosures, was that the Etsy shop owner, Mariana, with the help of several artisans, was designing/hand-making the furniture sold on their Etsy page in a Malibu-based shop.  But, for whatever reason, someone became suspicious about Ecologica, and investigated.  Evidence was found that the furniture was being made overseas, arriving in the US and then being sold on Etsy, all without Mariana or her shop ever taking part in the process.  The furniture was also sold in large quantities on other sites like Overstock.com, and bills of lading for Ecologica’s furniture shipments were discovered, which led other Etsy artisans to start questioning whether this qualified Ecologica as a reseller, or, a shop that re-sells mass-produced goods, which Etsy does not allow.

Ecologica Malibu Chest of Drawers

    There was a lot of back-and-forth, with Ecologica’s lawyers, and their overseas shop’s rep, and Etsy’s admins, and Etsy’s other sellers, all calling foul.  Etsy eventually did go back and edit the feature on Ecologica, stating that they qualify as a “collective,” which they do allow, though Ecologica had failed to disclose that when they were interviewed.  The parameters of a collective seem fairly narrow according to Etsy’s faq, and doesn’t explicitly allow for one person to design a product that another person will make, which is what Ecologica claims they do (Mariana designs —> shop overseas makes  —> Mariana sells).  But the parameters don’t explicitly forbid that activity either, which has really irritated some Etsy sellers.  They ask a valid question; if what Ecologica Malibu does is ok, does that mean a seller could, in theory, create a design, send it to an overseas sweatshop for manufacture, and sell the products on Etsy for a massive profit?  Without the accountability for production, how to we preserve the “handmade” aspect of Etsy?
   But the controversy also inspired other questions for me.  Where do you draw the line?  The vintage goods sold on Etsy have no “handmade” requirement, they can be, and usually are, factory-made, previously-purchased, resold goods.  Do they violate the “resell”policy?  Supplies almost always are factory-made, but are permitted for sale on Etsy.  What about them?  What qualifies as “mass-produced” goods, which Etsy doesn’t permit?  A shop with 10 people working in it, making products?  25?  I am hoping to one day, return to Tanzania, where I learned the technique/design behind Hieropice’s Maasai Beaded line, and work with local artisans to make the pieces Hieropice will sell. 

Artist in the Bagamoyo Artists’ Market

As I mentioned in a previous post, the artisans I encountered there have immense talent, but nowhere no real market for their work, as the meager revenue from tourist sales doesn’t really cut it.  I’m nowhere near being able to accomplish this goal, but, the Ecologica Malibu kerfuffle has made me think twice.  Truly successful artists often get somewhat divorced from their work, like a Dale Chihuly, whose staff create and assemble artworks under his name, or a Wolfgang Puck, who owns a slew of famous restaurants bearing his name, but rarely cooks at any of them.  I’m curious to know what you all think about this topic.  You know, when you buy a Tiffany ring, Louis Comfort Tiffany had no part in making it.  What is, and isn’t, an acceptable level of involvement of an artist in the creation of their work?  Please comment.