my first artist alley experience

For almost the entire month of February, I prepped for a small school-club-run anime convention and finally had a booth at the con on March 1st. I had visited the con two years ago, and knew that if I was given the chance, I wanted to participate as an artist.

I know that art has value in other ways than monetary, but I felt that selling art was something I wanted to try at least once in my life because if someone was willing to pay for my work, then I assume it means that someone out there values my work. People constantly speak of “monetizing your hobbies” and having “side hustles” but I think my gravitation towards artist alleys and small business online shops is more than that. Yes, the money is nice, but I wanted proof that I am capable of making work that people value. And I don’t necessarily agree with monetizing every aspect of one’s life.

I’d also like to mention that the profit from my small artist booth at the con went to the table tennis club, not me. This meant that I didn’t need to pay for insurance and I could support the club, which was a win-win in my book.

Motivations

When I was in highschool, I read an article in the school newspaper about a student who was making money by selling stickers. Thing is, she didn’t design the stickers herself, she just took popular images, printed them on vinyl, and cut them out. Nevertheless, the school newspaper praised her work. I felt a bit uneasy about the article - somehow selling stickers that weren’t of your own design was something to be proud of. I think I was also jealous that she was getting applauded for her work - no one really cared about my work, but then again, I was too embarassed to tell people about what I did.

I also had a friend in highschool who ran a separate instagram account where she posted pictures of the sky that I swear were all edited to increase the saturation and make the sunsets look super colorful. She also tried to run a redbubble shop where she sold cups, notebooks and whatever else redbubble offered with her photos on them. Her endeavor with this reminded me of the “side hustle” culture - selling things that seemed shallow from an arts perspective to me, but nonetheless made money. From my perspective, at best she just wanted to make some spare pocket money. At worst, it felt like selling a fantastical, fictional view of nature and was artistically corrupt in a way. I knew that this was not what I wanted to do.

Maybe some people just do not think of these things as “art objects” to think about and admire, only as “products” to sell.

Ever since middle school, I have been following artists online. I have long been on the admiring side, buying the occasional print here and there. A lot of them design prints and keychains, and sell them on online stores and artist alleys. This seemed to me to be the ideal scenario - people buying an artists work because they liked the art.

This is also part of the reason why I did not sell very much fanart at the con- I only had one Hatsune Miku charm, the rest of my catalog were all originals. I hoped that people would appreciate the work for what it is, rather than buying because it was of a character they liked. I have nothing against fanartists - they have great work too - I just had different goals this time around.

“Marketing”

I hate the term “marketing” but cannot deny its importance. No one can care about something you do if you don’t first tell people about it. But at the same time, a part of me was deathly afraid of telling people about this little art booth. To any normal person, I must look absolutely hilarious - cringe, even. My work doesn’t look like serious art, not masterful oil paintings nor marble sculptures. I was selling prints, keychains, and t-shirts with cute cats, anime girls, and gasp people with animal ears.

Perhaps I can learn to be a bit more open with my hobbies. I’ve previously said that I water my own hobbies down when talking to others, but this means that no one will learn who I really am. I don’t want to be “marketing” myself, but if I don’t tell people about how passionate I am about art, then no one will know and no one will care.

And when I flip things around, I do want to know what other people are passionate about. Sure, I might not understand very much, but I want to embrace their interests as a part of them as well.

At this point, I think I need to accept that there will be people who cannot take me seriously, who cannot help but question my passion, and that I do not need to mind what they think. I will still like what I like - no use worrying about others thoughts on my relatively harmless hobbies.

I ended up posting about my artist booth on my small personal instagram and telling a couple people at the table tennis club. I’m glad that I generally didn’t get any hateful comments, just words of support from friends and long lost acquaintances.

Standing Behind the Table

I loved being at the event, standing behind all my work, and chatting with people and I believe I achieved my goal of selling my work to people who appreciate the art and design of things.

There were a few people who I believe did not buy a piece for any reason other than that they appreciated the design. These people tend to be quick with their decisions - once they like something, they do not hesitate. I remember one girl who bought a print within five minutes of standing in front of my booth. I was especially happy about that purchase because the print that she got was one that I thought would not sell as well as the other ones because of the dull colors.

It was also quite fun chatting with people while at the event. For the first time, people asked questions about my work - things like “Where did you take this picture?” and “Is this an original character?” People were taking my work seriously, and I really appreciate that.

Those few days prepping for the convention were probably the most fun days I’ve had in a while. I felt alive.

I don’t think I’ll have very many chances to do this again in the future, but I’m definitely grateful to have had the chance to do it at all in the first place.

Perhaps I’ll make an online shop instead. Just to chase that feeling of feeling alive again.