Value/Worth

I am in the midst of another writing project.  Yeah, I know, I have so much time on my hands, why not spend an hour or two a day pounding the keyboard???

The project may never see light of day, but it has been an interesting exercise to rummage in the dark corners of my memory and try to set down my journey through this life.  I have made fair progress and this...obsession...with writing down what I remember doesn't seem to be going away.  In fact I spent several hours on planes poking at my ipad in the Note app adding more to my story.

I'm up to the early years of establishing myself as a designer/weaver and teacher with the writing starting to happen in various ways - teaching handouts, newsletter person for the guild and so on.

This morning a n exchange between a couple of people showed up on my Twitter feed.  Someone published a knitting pattern and it was being promoted when someone commented that they would wait until the pattern showed up on a free site.  The original poster asked why the second person wouldn't just buy the pattern and support an indy designer.  The second person lol'd and said that she'd get it for free from someone who bought it because once that person had purchased the pattern, it could be shared with anyone.

This back and forth reflected so much of what was going on 45 years ago in so many ways.  The attitude that as a weaver it was a hobby so I didn't deserve to get paid.  As a woman, I was being supported by my spouse so didn't need to make any money.  That my textiles could be copied and then the copier could replicate my design and sell it themselves.  That I was charging way too much money with the unstated 'who do you think you are, asking for so much money?'

There were other observations such as, well, you love what you do, so you shouldn't ask for money.  Or people would comment that they could make it themselves.  Or that a tea towel shouldn't be so expensive, I was charging too much, I'd never sell tea towels for the price I was asking.

The variations were pretty much endless, and at times felt relentless.

My initial reaction was to be highly indignant and offended.  Eventually I came to realize that what the comments were actually saying is that the person saying them had limited means and in many cases simply could not afford to buy my textiles.  It took a long time but I came to realize that their lack of financial resources was not my problem.

Their lack of respect of my skills, talents, and flat out courage to bring my ideas and product to the marketplace did rankle and I had to find a way to cope with such comments.

The first thing I did was never drop my prices.  I had to stay firm in knowing what I needed in order to keep my business viable, pay for the costs of the business, purchase materials and all the supporting things that were required, like care tags, market my work (booth fees and the travel to get to the shows, shipping product to my outlets), put food on the table and keep a roof over my head, and so on.

For me weaving was not a hobby, it was not something to 'keep you busy', it was my work, my job, my career.

The term 'starving artist' is used because it is in so many ways an accurate depiction of what the vast majority of creative people experience - lack of funds beyond the bare necessities.  Yes, we do it because we love it.  But in this society we also need to keep body and soul together.  People say that artists do their art as a 'side hustle' while they work other jobs so shouldn't charge so much, when in reality their 'day' job is the side hustle that allows them to do their creative work.

For many years my income was well below the poverty line.  My goal in life was to earn enough money that I actually paid income tax.  I was to meet that goal, but I was never much beyond the minimum income.

So eventually when someone would come into my booth, fondle my textiles and then say that my prices were too high, I would smile, nod and quietly say "I understand about limited income."

I had to refuse to make their financial issues my problem. 

At one point I joined a large guild in order to participate in their annual autumn sale.  When I arrived, my textiles were divided up and put into the appropriate 'departments'.  The textiles were categorized and scarves put with scarves, tea towels with tea towels and so on.

During the set up, several guild members came to quietly explain to me that my textiles would never sell at the price I was asking.  I thanked them and said that if they didn't sell at the sale there, I could sell them at those prices at home.  It was not a boast, it was true.  At home I had been weaving for a long time and had established a reputation for producing good quality.  People knew that my textiles did not wear out in a year or two, but lasted for a long time.

At the end of the sale I collected my textiles, and a few weeks later my payment arrived in the mail.  And the following year I was interested to note that some of the same guild members who cautioned me about not selling my textiles at my price?  Were raising their prices.  By the time I stopped doing that show, I wasn't the highest priced anymore, the guild members had finally begun to value their textiles and were putting more appropriate prices on their work.  And the public was buying it.

As weavers in the 21st century, we need to understand what it is we are selling:  our designs, our creativity, our colour sensibilities and our cloth.  If we don't value what it is we do, why should anyone else?

So purchase the pattern.  Make it possible for good designers to keep producing more good designs.  Support your local artisans.  Pay your teachers a decent amount.  Buy their books.  If you can't afford their books, request your guild library purchase them and provide reviews to your social media.

Value knowledge and respect it's worth.