May Flowers bring … More Followers?

So, about 3-4 weeks have passed since I established an online presence for Kraft Studio. I started off on Threads, thinking I’d be posting generally into the ether, and it would be a good way to get back in touch with my love of writing. (I have been rusty and out of practice now for many years. Professional writing has been unnecessary with my past two positions, and personal writing was all but abandoned for a variety of reasons. That’s a different blog post.)

So, Threads. Small bites, low pressure, whispering into the void. Well, in less than a month, I have gained more followers on Threads (233) than I did on Instagram (191) in close to two years, on and off, of hosting a free public sewing club at the library. Both numbers are essentially nothing, I am fully aware. But 230+ followers in 3 weeks and close to 16k eyeballs on my words was more than I imagined at this stage, to be sure.

I am sitting with, and pushing through, my reluctance to be perceived in process— or frankly, at all. Thus far, I have been rewarded for my efforts by making new local connections that have translated into offline meetings and collaboration plans. And, some global connections turned into direct art-mail swaps.

Humanity remains good, when you look in the correct places.

My first “Introduction to Postcrossing” event is in less than 10 days, and although so far, only my friends and acquaintances have signed up, I am confident that it will be a good beta test, and I will learn a lot. The next event will be on June 12th, a Friday, at a local taproom. I expect that not many people will sign up until the last minute, or at all… but perhaps a few people will see us in action, and walk-up to participate? It will be a Friday afternoon/evening, after all, so I remail optimistic. Even if no one wants to participate, it will create visibility, and I will have fun on my own making art. There are uglier worst-case scenarios than that.

As for my inner state… I am in turmoil. The love-hate relationship with my day job is complicated. I wish I could share more details about that, and although they are more complex rather than particularly negative, it could still jeopardize my employment if I openly aired my conflicting feelings, which I simply cannot afford at this time.

On one hand, I do want to scale as quickly as possible, in order to have the financial freedom to commit to it full time. On the other hand, I am acutely aware that this endeavor will require patience, emotional fortitude, commitment, and long-term consistency. I am determined to make this dream a reality somehow, and not wait decades to do it. I am so consumed, genuinely, by my determination, that I have been waking in fitful sweats several nights a week.

I am BURNING with the need to dedicate more of my time to this vision, and I am haunted day and night by images of my goals brought to fruition. Much of it is selfish, sure. I want to sustain myself doing what I love, and what I love is to learn, fiddle, tinker, dabble, make, connect, and share. The keyword, though, I have learned, is the last one. I want to share.

I have met so many people who say they admire what I do creatively (I don’t feel like I do anything?), my boldness to try new things (it’s less boldness and more of a fever that takes over), etc. They feel they aren’t creative, hesitate to call themselves an artist (I do too, it’s a new label I’m learning to wear) and don’t know how to start with new things. They’re burned out by work (so am I) and don’t know how to integrate art practices into their daily lives without comitting to expensive, long-term classes. I think that’s something culture has programmed into us. It is not an innate personality trait to most people. Rather, we are being systematically trained out of our innate curiosity because it encourages compliance, and we are being exploited out of our attention span and natural creativity because it drives complacency, and thus consumerism. Creativity and community should never have been commodified. But they have, so what do we do?

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I am bursting with hope and ideas for how we can come together as a village, make imperfect art with earnest hearts and capable hands, and release all the hang-ups, perfectionism, anxieties, etc.

At least for a session or two a month, until we can grow together into more.

Thank you for being on this carnival ride with me!

Jen Kraft