Spaces

I want my business to flow like I want my life to flow, and for this I need systems. I spend a lot of time analyzing what I do, how I do it, where I do it, when I feel like doing it, and when I avoid it. After nearly two years of observing myself, I can see certain patterns, allowing me to engineer my use of time and space in a way that feels productive, flexible, and full of ease.

My work is split between three spaces, each of which has finally begun to reveal its identity. I've realized what I want to do in each place, what works given the unique layouts and constraints, what definitely doesn't work.

My studio at my mom's house is my alone space. There I can dive deep in my ideas, experiment with materials, get lost in my projects. It's also a space where I measure very, very precisely and hopefully cut only once. It's where I solder and make noise and use power tools. This has been a shared space for the last three years, and in the new year it will be all mine for the first time. I plan to rearrange a little and put in a painting area and an enameling area. I'm excited.

My gallery is where I put on my public face, at least during the hours I've committed to being regularly open. I've recently started spending more time in this space in off-hours, which feels good and allows me to let my hair down and relax into just being present. The gallery has often felt stressful, and over the last two years I've started to understand why that is, and how to overcome it.

I have a carefully controlled presentation to the public, an experience that I want people to have when they come in here. This requires discipline and procedures and lots and lots of tweaking of details. So much goes into creating the space I envision, and I'm constantly rearranging. I've recognized the cycle, at least: I'll put out new work, agonize because it all looks horrible the way it's displayed, feel like I don't have any of the right props or surfaces or labels, then make a brilliant adjustment that brings all the jewelry and paintings and found objects together, then feel super satisfied for about two weeks, then start to think the displays look bad, feel the need to drastically rearrange, then repeat the cycle but with a slightly different mix of pieces.

I often feel dissatisfied with the way my work looks in the gallery, which I know seems bizarre because the space itself is always beautiful. But there's always something that doesn't fit right, or needs to be regrouped, or on a larger background, or explained in a different way. I think a lot about iterations. Dozens of different ways of categorizing, classifying, presenting, and narrating my work. With each iteration I understand more about myself, about what I'm doing.

The logistical side of this constant re-visioning and re-arranging is a nightmare. Holes drilled, walls patched, paint touched up, lights adjusted, displays built, props corralled in bins, mannequins and busts acquired, aluminum maps stacked, supplies sorted, labels printed, stuff hauled back and forth and back and forth. Thus I am obsessed with how to make it flow easy, this eternal doing and undoing of my space.

Furthermore, I have the opportunity to work with two young women artists as assistant/interns, which means I need to have good storage systems and policies and procedures in place, because if it's hard with one person it quickly turns to chaos when there are more hands and heads involved. Not just the logistical stuff, but thinking about the experience and the identity of my space: how to greet people when they walk in, what kind of values I want to transmit, how to operate in my absence. It's a lot. Training people is hard, because to do it right you have to know what YOU want, which in my case has not only taken a while but is ever-changing. Being able to be flexible and dynamic is a must.

When I first opened the gallery, I thought I'd do a certain kind of work at my front desk and jeweler's bench. I've finally learned what it is I actually want to do here, and what doesn't work at all. I need to do tasks that are conducive to interruption and pauses. Sketching works well, as does administrative stuff.

Other things seemed better in theory than in reality. For example, I started with a huge monitor in the gallery to be able to do photo editing and website updates in here. What I didn't anticipate was the size of the screen, coupled with the glare from the sun hitting the cars parked across the street, giving me migraines. Also the screen blocked my view of the front door. And I realized that when I work on my website, I'm deep in thought trying to build my site in a way that makes sense and write succinct copy. Any interruption totally takes me out of the zone, and I forget what exactly I was doing and what page needed updating. So that was out. I took my monitor home, and now do photo editing and website updates from there.

Which brings me to my final workspace, in our house, in a shared office with Ricardo. That's where I do my accounting, and my emails, and anything that benefits from a huge computer screen. It's a pain to have my functions/papers/things split among three spaces, but the reality is that I often feel like staying home but also need to work a bit. So if I can work a little from home as well as my studio and my gallery, I'm able to stay on top of things better. And there's nothing quite as nice as rolling out of bed, getting some coffee, and knocking out five things on the computer while still wearing pajamas.

The habits from my days as a freelance consultant die hard, I guess.

Creative Business: What Makes Me (Un)Happy

Lately I've been feeling very unhappy about being a jeweler and having the gallery. These growing pains are part of the ride, but it's time for a major adjustment when the thing I love becomes the thing I most want to avoid. Because, you know, I already burned out on one career (see: the archives of this blog between 2006 and 2009) and I'd prefer that not happen again.

The things that make me unhappy are pretty easy to identify:

- Allowing my business side to take over at the expense of my artist side. Focusing too much on numbers and sales and foot traffic, and very especially measuring my success by those metrics.

- Acting like a retail jewelry store. This is not what I want to do, but it is the easiest model to follow and the one that people most readily understand. And the desire to have a flourishing business where others understand what I'm doing, support it, approve of it...I won't lie. It's there.

- Making jewelry that I think will sell, not the pieces my gut/soul/whatever leads me to create. Production work is a tempting mistress. Again, it's what others most easily "get". It's safe and expected/accepted. It's the most lucrative strategy, at least in the short term. But it is the wrong path for me, and that I do know in my gut. Focusing on production work (think wearable, fashionable jewelry collections that are made in multiples) is the fast track to my business mind taking over.

- Living too much in the future. Planning excessively. Scheduling every free moment. Maxing out my productivity.

- Creating a public persona where I don't allow myself to be real, vulnerable, messy, or uncertain. Feeling like I always have to front positivity and be "on" in order to be successful. Here I feel free to tell it like it is. On my www.aliamaro.com blog and newsletter and in the gallery, I don't. There is a major filter in place. I recognize the importance of privacy, of keeping some semblance of separation between business and personal life...but it bothers me that I don't feel okay sharing my authentic self in the spaces where I share my work.

- Feeling overly obligated to others. Man this is a big one. I want to share my opportunities with my fellow artists, and I want to contribute to my community...but there needs to be balance so I'm not consumed up in the process.

So there's the unhappy list, in a nutshell. Now for what makes me happy (it's a much less philosophical list):

- Doing the painting exercise I invented where I color mix for 5 minutes, then apply paint to the canvas for 5 minutes, let dry, and repeat. These loose, colorful, free paintings are my favorite thing right now in terms of studio work.

- Taking photos of textures, patterns, and architecture. Taking portraits.

- Creating compositions with objects. Finding edges that match and angles that meet. Finding balance within asymmetry.

- Playing with color. Putting together unexpected palettes. Organize things according to gradients.

- Doing processes that involve the unknown. Like enameling, where you have no idea what the colors will look like before you apply heat. Or using my jeweler's saw to slice into those dried acrylic paint balls I like so much, revealing a hidden interior.

- Rendering (drawing) jewelry. I think I like it because it's so damn hard and the results are so gratifying. Nothing like a challenge.

- Being a stylist: putting together a great outfit, nailing proportion, mixing patterns, accessorizing.

- Creating something for another person that is incredibly meaningful to them.

- Doing nothing. Hanging out with cats. Being in the sun. Dancing.

- Getting away. Traveling. Exploring. Wandering.

I am going to pin this to my studio wall and make it a priority to look at it, reflect on it, allow myself to say YES to things on the happy list and STOP doing the things on the unhappy list without guilt or anxiety or insecurity. I'm not sure what the result will look like, in terms of what I'll create or where it will lead. And that's part of the exercise.  

2014: First Year of the Gallery

In front of the Point Richmond gallery on our first year anniversary party. Photo by Steve Holloway.

Mon dieu, 2014 was quite the year. I loved it, am grateful for it, but damn in put me through the ringer. Here are some of the more notable experiences and reflections on my first year having the gallery in Point Richmond:

• Launching a brick-and-mortar business in an area with no foot traffic is not for the faint of heart. It really builds character to open your doors and then have nobody walk in, sometimes for days. I knew it would be like that, especially in the beginning (Point Richmond has a wee downtown plaza with some commerce, but sustaining a retail space here is hard), and I created my business model to be compatible with zero foot traffic, but still. No matter how many times I reminded myself that I am not a jewelry store, and that my success is not measured by the number of people who come through the door, it was tough to keep a positive perspective. Many a night I would close the gallery and then go cry into Rico's sympathetic ear. I found it disturbingly easy to slip into a "retailer" mentality, focused on being busy, hoping to get slammed with shoppers, feeling pressure to keep longer hours, offer more, do more-more-more. But I am not a traditional retailer, and I don't want to be a traditional retailer. Therefore much of 2014 was about resisting that impulse, and trying to remind myself (and others!) that it is possible to find success through a different model.
• What is that model? A hybrid of creating custom pieces for clients, selling my own limited-edition jewelry designs in the gallery and online, and selling work from select guest artists in the gallery. About half of my business last year was custom work. The other half was gallery sales, of which one-third was from the guest artists I featured. I find it fascinating to have one full year of numbers to look back on, concrete information that will inform next year's activities.
• Speaking of numbers, I am excited to report that my predictions for 2014 were majorly on point. No big surprises in expenses, and I exceeded my revenue goal by 15%. So there may not be people streaming in the door, but hey, something went right. ;)
• Last year brought many intangible successes that don't show up in my numbers. Like Point to Point Richmond, the community event I helped conceptualize and launch over the summer. Together with a crew of fellow artists and small business owners, we encouraged people to rediscover and reinvent Point Richmond one day each month through collaborations, pop-ups, performances, and spontaneous and creative use of our spaces. It was a grand experiment, completely and totally grassroots, that allowed me to connect into a community of peers and meet many new people. Point to Point was not in my business plan, and I never could have imagined dedicating so much energy to community organizing...but I allowed myself to follow my gut, and I can honestly say it was worth it. Not just as a personally fulfilling experience, but as a great way to get people into my space and talk to them about my work (see bullet point #1 about there being no foot traffic..."event-driven" is what we are!).
• In 2014 I showed work by six guest artists in the gallery, often holding opening receptions on Point to Point days. It was great to be able to show a mix of styles and materials and price points, to showcase local art, and to have my creative friends alongside me in this experience. There were some bumpy times, but I am so proud of the professionalism we all showed, the way we found solutions to whatever wasn't working. In 2015 I look forward to showing more work by guest artists, but with a slightly different format to keep things fresh.
• I am so grateful for the help and support I've received over the past year. My family, Rico, my assistant Marie, my studio mates, my guest artists, my teachers, my clients, our neighbors, and our friends near and far. It has not been an easy one, but I am aware I'm not in this alone, and that anytime I need to talk or cry or celebrate, I have great company by my side.
• My favorite comeback of 2014: "What?? You've been here a year? I've never noticed you! You need to advertise more!" "Oh yes, we have been here for a year. We're a hidden gem, just like Point Richmond." Works every time. People like the fact that our neighborhood is undiscovered and under the radar, and I love using that analogy to open their minds about what my business model is all about.
• Low point of 2014: there was a flea infestation in the gallery. It was horrible and required great discretion and took so much longer to get rid of than I ever though possible. It's all gone now, no more fleas, and I'm at the point where it is really funny to look back on. Hilarious how life throws you a really good curve ball every once in a while, just to make sure you remember you can't control it all.
• Speaking of, I downsized my planner. After three years using a gigantic paper calendar with scheduling in 30-minute increments, I'm now down to a 5x7 weekly view planner with space to write one or two things per day. This is a good limit for me. Getting through school and the first year of my business, it was super helpful to have tight planning and a to-do list on every page. But now, I can relax a little. I have to relax a little. If I can't write it in the little space allotted for the day, I probably shouldn't take it on...
• And so goes the first year. There are a lot of takeaways that I didn't list here, but that's okay. This doesn't have to be exhaustive. It's New Year's Eve, and it's time to celebrate. Rico and I are feeling really exhausted and under the weather, and instead of being out at a party we've elected to stay home and chill. My mom said we're getting old. I say we're getting comfortable. There is a fire in the fireplace, cats and blankets on the lap, and White Collar on Netflix. Here's to a quiet end to an unforgettable and intense year.

Video: Interview with Richmond Confidential

This feature on Ali Amaro | Art Jewelry & Objects is part of a series about small businesses in Richmond, California. We had a really fun interview, and I hope you enjoy the result!

Check out the full video and text here: http://richmondconfidential.org/2014/10/13/voice-of-small-business-ali-amaro-art-jewelry-objects/