In my last "Thrifty Thrusday" post I mentioned that I'd be getting rid of a few things soon. Done and done!
Over the past two weeks I've managed to take about a dozen grocery bags of clothes and some other miscellaneous stuff to the thrift store. However, there were a few things I just couldn't bear to part with in such an impersonal way. Clothes that mean something to me, but I no longer wear for various reasons. I had a lot of vintage things and really nice evening gowns I probably won't be wearing any time in the near future. I had more coats than any one person should have including some lovely vintage pieces. I had some men's suit jackets and a tuxedo that belonged to my step-dad, who passed away in 2008. They don't fit my husband, and he doesn't need to wear a suit very often, anyway.
I thought about some of the theatres I've worked with over the past several years and decided that Morris Park Players in Minneapolis needed some stock for their costume closet. The other night, Sue, one of the board members and frequent costume coordinator came by and picked up 14 bags of really amazing stuff. I'm hoping to go see a show and find my clothes being used in a new life, perhaps I'll even get to wear some of it again when I go back to performing after I get my massage certification.
I also finished the quilted wall hanging for my friend's son's band fundraiser. Her sister came to pick it up the same night the theatre clothes left. I suddenly have a great deal of room - in my living room, in my closets, in my brain, and in my life.
I'm not going to say that I don't also feel a bit empty. I put a lot of work into some of the things I gave up. I figured that between the actual value of some of the clothes - some I never even wore, some I altered in some way, some I made myself - and the time involved in basically curating, caring for and building them, that's a donation of somewhere between $2000 - 3000. I'm going to write up some sort of paper which states that and then the theatre can sign off on it and I estimated the value of the quilt to be around $250. I'll use it for my taxes next year.
Of course, that's not the real reason I did all the culling. You get to a certain point in your life when you just want to pare down and simplify. I'm there. I'm not ready to give up my fabric stash yet, I still want to make stuff, but I'm making room for it. I'm also having a hard time parting with my books. But, the more room and less clutter there is in my life, the more I can do. Maybe I can actually read those books. What a concept.
Now, to finish Rachel's quilt. I've assured her that I am working on it, true enough, but my decision to hand stitch the binding down on the back side was a bit much for my fibro to handle. I have to take a lot of breaks. As for my ADHD, I sometimes just have to set the quilt aside and not think about it for a while. Luckily, my friend is more than understanding and is patiently awaiting her hand-made treasure.
Sometimes you're not ready for a cull. I get that. I wasn't ready to cull for years. When I decided it was time, holy crud-monkeys was I ready! Now to see if I can lose that 20 pounds I gained over the past year.
Showing posts with label handmade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label handmade. Show all posts
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Speaking of "Echt" - Special Mid-Week Edition
I was tidying up the display of objets d'art on my dresser when I noticed this:
I have a little German hat I picked up at a local thrift store. Lo and behold, there's the word "echt" on the label. It's a Genuine Bayerischer Velour Hat! I sometimes wish I was the kind of person who believed in omens and such. This would've been a doozy!
Another project I've been working on (besides the peacock throw in the previous post) is a quilt for my high school friend, Rachel. It started out as a personal project to use up some fabric scraps, but when I posted picks of my progress, she made an offer. I had no intention of selling it originally, though I'd never turn down an offer. I was just trying to use up my stash and try a block method (with diamond-shaped pieces) I'd never tried before. Now that I've done it, I don't know if I'll ever do it again, and if I do, I now know how to fix the things that drove me nuts and how better to cut and sew. Making it however, was strictly seat-o-my-pants style. I really didn't know how it'd turn out. I went blindly forth, hoping that what resulted was good enough. It's also one of only two queen-sized pieces I've ever done. I wasn't sure I'd have enough fabric, but I was fortunate that I had gotten in on a super sale a couple of years ago and bought a whole lot of a few prints. I was also fortunate that Rachel loved it.
It's totally improvised, totally echt. I'm reading Jane Lynch's memoire, "Happy Accidents", and that's what I have entitled this piece. It may have humble beginnings as a stash buster, but through a series of happy accidents, it's my first sale! What better inspiration?
People also started asking about the peacock quilt. Was it for sale? How much? When I stated the price, all three offers fell through. I was thinking, "Gee. Did I put too high a price on this?" Then I got nervous. My hands carped up a little (the conversion disorder manifestation) and I couldn't sleep. I've always wanted to sell my work, but I've always been afraid to put a price on my work. This is primarily because I don't typically use patterns. Even when I've done costume design, my renderings (sketches) are more of a guideline than an accurate depiction of what is actually created. I'll go off on a tangent and come up with something different, usually better than what started out.
So, I know I'm not perfect, I enjoy (and make no apologies for) being echt, but how does that translate to value? Good gravy. Like many artists, I tend to undervalue my work and myself. Partly I think this happens because I know majority of my friends aren't made of money. We're all 99%ers. Not that my price was that outrageous. I looked at etsy sites to see comparable items, I based it on that and when I suggested the price to Rachel, she counter-offered...with more. In fact, she offered what I proposed for the peacock quilt. My head is spinning just thinking about it.
Why do artists undervalue themselves? I'm sure at least a little bit is due to low self-esteem. That seems to be the bane of the artist's existence. We also may not keep track of how many hours we're actually putting into a project, so we guesstimate. For me, recording time would be nearly impossible because I generally have my two kids vying for my attention while I'm working. This is getting easier as they get older, but they still want to show me what they've drawn or I need to break up an argument.
As a craftsperson, it's perhaps even harder to price things because what you're making is not only artistic but is utilitarian in nature. It needs to be quality to stand up to use, it should be beautiful, and should be affordable. Why should someone pay $600 for my lovingly made quilt when they can go to Wal-Mart and get a comforter and complete sheet set for $40? You can only make so many gifts for people before you start thinking, "I should make some money for this." Especially if you want it to become your sole source of income.
Firstly, if you purchase something handmade, you will very likely be the only person in the world who's got it. I don't know a whole lot of artists who make the same thing over and over. Some do. They figure out what people seem to like and make a bunch. My dad was an artist with a pencil and a paintbrush. There are originals of his work all across the country. There are also prints of his work, though they are actually rarer than the real thing.
Secondly, artists are trained. They may not have a degree, but they've taken classes, read books, made more than a few failed attempts at something (we all have our share of UFOs - Un Finished Objects - laying around). That's still an education, even if we didn't pay for it (and believe me, in some way, we paid for it!)
Thirdly, we create because we must. If we don't, we don't breathe correctly. We get cranky and depressed. We have nervous breakdowns and develop conversion disorder. Well, maybe not that last bit. That's probably just me. Creating stuff is just who we are. Sometimes artists have other things they can do, like be a dentist or accountant. I'm not one of those people. If I'm not creating, wether a character in a play or a piece of artwork, I'm not living. We should be able to make a living with that which makes us alive.
The ball is in the buyer's court, however. I've found that, unless a piece has a "firm" price, negotiations aren't out of the question, but don't insult the artist, value them. Some artists are willing to barter/trade for services or goods, too, myself included, as long as they are of equal value. Of course, that's between the artist and the consumer, but it can be done.
For example, another friend of mine would've liked the peacock quilt, but she can't afford the tag. What we're going to do instead is, she'll purchase the fabric from my Spoonflower designs and I'll help her with the layout and piecing of her own quilt. (spoonflower.com/tequila_diamonds by the way) When she purchases from my designs, I get credit toward my own purchase, which I'll probably use for samples of my latest designs. Once I've approved them, I can put them up for sale.
So the next time you're walking through the mall and there's a craft show going on, don't automatically dismiss the artist's prices. Talk to them, get to know them, find out if they negotiate. If you really love a piece, it should be worth it to you and it should show that you value the person who created it as well. Something can always be worked out.
 |
| Use Echt in a sentence! |
Another project I've been working on (besides the peacock throw in the previous post) is a quilt for my high school friend, Rachel. It started out as a personal project to use up some fabric scraps, but when I posted picks of my progress, she made an offer. I had no intention of selling it originally, though I'd never turn down an offer. I was just trying to use up my stash and try a block method (with diamond-shaped pieces) I'd never tried before. Now that I've done it, I don't know if I'll ever do it again, and if I do, I now know how to fix the things that drove me nuts and how better to cut and sew. Making it however, was strictly seat-o-my-pants style. I really didn't know how it'd turn out. I went blindly forth, hoping that what resulted was good enough. It's also one of only two queen-sized pieces I've ever done. I wasn't sure I'd have enough fabric, but I was fortunate that I had gotten in on a super sale a couple of years ago and bought a whole lot of a few prints. I was also fortunate that Rachel loved it.
 |
| Rachel's quilt in our high school colors. |
People also started asking about the peacock quilt. Was it for sale? How much? When I stated the price, all three offers fell through. I was thinking, "Gee. Did I put too high a price on this?" Then I got nervous. My hands carped up a little (the conversion disorder manifestation) and I couldn't sleep. I've always wanted to sell my work, but I've always been afraid to put a price on my work. This is primarily because I don't typically use patterns. Even when I've done costume design, my renderings (sketches) are more of a guideline than an accurate depiction of what is actually created. I'll go off on a tangent and come up with something different, usually better than what started out.
So, I know I'm not perfect, I enjoy (and make no apologies for) being echt, but how does that translate to value? Good gravy. Like many artists, I tend to undervalue my work and myself. Partly I think this happens because I know majority of my friends aren't made of money. We're all 99%ers. Not that my price was that outrageous. I looked at etsy sites to see comparable items, I based it on that and when I suggested the price to Rachel, she counter-offered...with more. In fact, she offered what I proposed for the peacock quilt. My head is spinning just thinking about it.
Why do artists undervalue themselves? I'm sure at least a little bit is due to low self-esteem. That seems to be the bane of the artist's existence. We also may not keep track of how many hours we're actually putting into a project, so we guesstimate. For me, recording time would be nearly impossible because I generally have my two kids vying for my attention while I'm working. This is getting easier as they get older, but they still want to show me what they've drawn or I need to break up an argument.
As a craftsperson, it's perhaps even harder to price things because what you're making is not only artistic but is utilitarian in nature. It needs to be quality to stand up to use, it should be beautiful, and should be affordable. Why should someone pay $600 for my lovingly made quilt when they can go to Wal-Mart and get a comforter and complete sheet set for $40? You can only make so many gifts for people before you start thinking, "I should make some money for this." Especially if you want it to become your sole source of income.
Firstly, if you purchase something handmade, you will very likely be the only person in the world who's got it. I don't know a whole lot of artists who make the same thing over and over. Some do. They figure out what people seem to like and make a bunch. My dad was an artist with a pencil and a paintbrush. There are originals of his work all across the country. There are also prints of his work, though they are actually rarer than the real thing.
Secondly, artists are trained. They may not have a degree, but they've taken classes, read books, made more than a few failed attempts at something (we all have our share of UFOs - Un Finished Objects - laying around). That's still an education, even if we didn't pay for it (and believe me, in some way, we paid for it!)
Thirdly, we create because we must. If we don't, we don't breathe correctly. We get cranky and depressed. We have nervous breakdowns and develop conversion disorder. Well, maybe not that last bit. That's probably just me. Creating stuff is just who we are. Sometimes artists have other things they can do, like be a dentist or accountant. I'm not one of those people. If I'm not creating, wether a character in a play or a piece of artwork, I'm not living. We should be able to make a living with that which makes us alive.
The ball is in the buyer's court, however. I've found that, unless a piece has a "firm" price, negotiations aren't out of the question, but don't insult the artist, value them. Some artists are willing to barter/trade for services or goods, too, myself included, as long as they are of equal value. Of course, that's between the artist and the consumer, but it can be done.
For example, another friend of mine would've liked the peacock quilt, but she can't afford the tag. What we're going to do instead is, she'll purchase the fabric from my Spoonflower designs and I'll help her with the layout and piecing of her own quilt. (spoonflower.com/tequila_diamonds by the way) When she purchases from my designs, I get credit toward my own purchase, which I'll probably use for samples of my latest designs. Once I've approved them, I can put them up for sale.
So the next time you're walking through the mall and there's a craft show going on, don't automatically dismiss the artist's prices. Talk to them, get to know them, find out if they negotiate. If you really love a piece, it should be worth it to you and it should show that you value the person who created it as well. Something can always be worked out.
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