Failed Launches
As an artist, there’s nothing more exhilarating or scary than releasing a new collection. From the initial spark of inspiration to the countless experiments and hours of hard work, all those tiny moments culminate into an instant in time when your work is released to the public. Will they love it? Will they hate it? Will I sell out? Will I sell…anything?
This last January I put my heart and soul into a new collection that brought me so much joy. The posts leading up to my release were quite popular and I had high hopes that the release would go well. Despite large social media gains in 2022, sales had been slow. In fact, this Christmas season was the slowest I had experienced since starting with resin. I hoped that this new collection would raise my spirits and jump-start my sales in the New Year.
Well, I sold nothing. Literally nothing. To this day, I have sold zero pieces from that collection. It was probably the most soul-crushing experience of my art career. Even as I typed that last sentence, my first instinct was to write art career in air quotes because I still feel like an imposter and failure. The disappointment and feelings of defeat are just as strong now, as they were four months ago. Tears still sprang to my eyes and I struggled to choke down that lump of fear that rose in my throat.
True bravery requires vulnerability. To be accepted we must risk being judged, rejected, and even ridiculed. Every time an artist shares their work with the world, they are taking a step into the unknown. They bare their soul, hoping that the beauty and vision that captured their imagination will capture the heart of another and leave a little imprint on the world. Sometimes that happens and a piece is snatched up. Other times, those pieces stay with me and bring beauty to my little broken world.
So, what should be done when our art doesn’t sell? I think our first impulse is to jump into something new and take action of some sort. Granted, there’s something to be said for hustle culture and striving to achieve goals and new benchmarks. But what if, we could view these failures as an invitation instead of rejection?
Instead of jumping into action we could enter a place of stillness and allow ourselves to simply feel what we feel. Instead of identifying with failure and condemning ourselves, we could approach ourselves and our work with a sense of curiosity and humility. What does my work say about me, what does it say about the world? Who is my ideal audience and what do I want to convey to them? How do I want them to feel when they look at my art? How can I further develop my unique voice as an artist? There’s always more to learn about ourselves and our art.
The same day I wrote this blog I sold a piece of art. Not a piece from that failed launch, but a different piece. A piece that I can only describe as kind of ugly! Even my mom and sister thought that I needed to fix this piece. It had been sitting in my redo pile for a few months when suddenly someone bought it and was even willing to pay $70 for international shipping. They saw beauty and value where I saw a problem. Maybe the biggest lesson is learning to simply wait so my art can connect with the right person at the right time.
