On creative ambition & my first art market

Exploring the need to share and connect through art

Every so often I indulge in the thought exercise of letting go of creative ambition. These moments come to me when I am deep in the vortex of overthinking, trying to grasp at measures of clarity and foretelling that will ease the eternal questions of why do I do this and what is it all for?

But first, what is my creative ambition? When I started to consider this question many years ago, the answer came in the form of large accomplishments—publishing a book, landing a big client, winning an award, making enough money from my art to quit my day job. Over time I kept stripping down layers from these arbitrary goals to uncover the real truths of my desires—to be seen through my art, to have my art be of value (usually in the form of money), and to be in conversation with my artist heroes.

Each of these desires requires me to share my art.

“My Career”, a poem by Leonard Cohen: So little to say / So urgent / to say it

When I entertain the idea of an alternate self with no creative ambition, I am still creating in private. My self-construct is too intertwined with a lifelong practice of journal keeping for me to willingly let it go. Even in this imaginary scenario, I feel relief that I can continue to maintain private acts of creation.

So if this non-ambitious self still creates, how might she be different? She would live more on the earthly realm, prioritizing tangible people, places, and things over her imagination. She would channel creativity however it spoke to her in the present moment, without compulsion or pressure to revisit a subject. She would stop valorizing creative practice over her physical needs.

Yet, this non-ambitious self would feel lonely. There would always be parts of her left unexpressed, amorphous observations and feelings that couldn’t find their proper forms until they were worked out on paper in attempts to convey them to the world.

Sharing art is about crossing the bridge of communication, from one self to another. When I write or draw in my journal I feel more free because I don’t have to consider a reader or viewer. There is some effort required to even crystallize a thought or vision to myself, but not nearly as much as there is when attempting to reach another person. Sharing one’s work asks the artist to consider whether there is enough to understand, but not so much that it leaves no room for a witness to consider their own experiences.

After a few disoriented days of contemplating creative ambition and struggling to verbalize this tension in any meaningful way, I headed to the library to pick up a book I had on hold: Aidan Koch’s Spiral and Other Stories.

Aidan Koch’s Spiral and Other Stories

Flipping through its pages of textured, minimalist art paired with sparse dialogue and poetry, I felt my ambition swelling back to the surface. I could hear my ambition laughing on its way up—to think you could be rid of me!

Here was a book that struck me with its ability to be both simple and profound, intentional and free. It was not the narrative I’d tell or the choices I’d make, but in that moment of reading I entered into Aidan Koch’s view of the world and rested a while as I pondered my own. How dearly I treasured this portal to another self, and how desperately I too want to create portals of my own.

For as long as other artists engage in the delicate dance of creating both as a mirror and to be a mirror, I will always want to dance along. Being in the dance requires vulnerability and participation, strengthening both the art and the artist. Ambition can be that simple—a desire to be a part, to be in conversation in this realm of words and images and sounds, and to know and be known in the process.

My first art market

Two weeks ago, I joined as a vendor at the evening event “From Kiln to Kimchi” at the American Museum of Natural History, selling my art in person for the first time.

I have rarely applied to art fairs or markets despite living in NYC, where there is surely a market popping up every weekend. The first fair that I committed to ended up getting cancelled and in my disappointment I avoided applying to markets for a while. I reasoned that I did not have enough products to sell to break even, but I also did not make more products because I did not believe in their ability to sell.

In January I received an email inviting me to to sell my work at an event hosted by an iconic NYC museum(!) with no vendor fee(!!) I had nothing to lose, so I said yes and got ready to step out of my cave.

After weeks of preparation (making new prints, zines, signs, and freebie stickers, counting inventory, determining prices, planning the table setup), the event unfolded seamlessly. A number of people bought my work, even prints that had never sold in my online shop! It delighted me to see and hear people’s reactions to my art whether or not they purchased anything.

Somehow, I didn’t mind when people glanced at my table and walked away. My art wasn’t for them, or maybe they just needed to find the bathroom.

Photos of my table setup! The Gilder Center at AMNH is so cool!

The best part of the event was seeing friends and loved ones who came out to support me and making friendships with fellow vendors. Art can be so solitary, so communal moments like these are a real treasure.

Though I have tabled only once, I have also been to many markets and fairs and have developed a sense of what does and doesn’t work. Here is a short list:

• Display is everything! Building height through stands or wire cubes is crucial so you can maximize table space and have your work visible from far away. You can and will be constantly experimenting with your table setup based on your products and what you want to push at a given event. Whatever is up front and most visible usually sells best.

• Have your prices or price ranges clearly listed. If you are busy talking to another customer and I am interested in an item but don’t know the price, I will probably walk away.

• You will sell more when you talk to people! I like to let people know how they can engage with the work without pressure to buy, such as saying “Feel free to take a sticker” or “You can flip through any of these zines.” I’ll also make small talk, complimenting their t-shirt or asking about the event. Other artists prefer to talk about their work—how they made it, what inspires it. Whichever way you like to chat, please read the body language of the other person and don’t ramble for too long if they’re not making eye contact and don’t seem interested (this goes both ways, for vendor and buyer!)

• Be prepared to accept Venmo, card, or cash. Anecdotally, many people like paying with Venmo, so have a printed QR code ready to scan.

• BRING WATER AND SNACKS. Dress in layers so you’re ready for any temperature changes. If it’s the summer, bring a portable fan. Your physical health is #1 priority!

I’d love to do more small art markets and fairs this year—let me know if you know of any good ones! And I will be reopening my online shop soon with new zines and prints, please stay tuned.

Zine programming is coming!

Thank you to everyone who filled out my survey to help shape this spring’s zine making offerings 💝 If you’d like to share your input, the link is below:

Zines are a wonderfully accessible way to transition from private to public sharing, and I encourage you to join us in making zines over the next few months. I’ll be announcing hour-long workshop sessions exclusively for paid subscribers ($6/month or $50/year), as well as a multi-week workshop at a higher price point (paid subscribers will receive a discount). Additionally, I'll be sharing free content with zine inspiration and resources to empower everyone to make some zines!