2012 looms large on my horizon. As I am wont to do, I’ve been reviewing the activities of my business over the past few years. I’ve had delirious successes, a few “meh moments” and a few frustrating disappointments.
I’m happy to report that I’ve made great progress this past year toward increasing my “net presence”. You can type “Cup O Swank” in a search engine, and you’re gonna find me. This year I created a real online portfolio for the first time, and became involved in respected websites dedicated to my profession. I learned to take advantage of analytic systems to track the traffic on my portfolio. In other words, I know who’s paying attention. And who’s not.
I’m not hugely famous. I’m a little bit known. I make a living. I’m very proud of that. When my son was small and I was raising him by myself, I drew literally thousands of illustrations for activity books and such like. Didn’t get famous, but I was home with my son every day, and I earned a decent living. He never saw the inside of a daycare, nor knew a hungry day. Those facts give me the right to talk about this.
I learned so much about Huntington, West Virginia and how it relates to working artists over the past several years. This has been bothering me for a long time, and I think this is the right time to talk about it. If any locals read this, it’ll only make them angry. Truth be told, it’s highly unlikely they’ll ever see it or hear about it. If they do get angry, what’s going to happen? I suppose the social season will find me a pariah.
My first few early sales had me so excited that I wanted to involve myself with others in the local art scene. Most of the following institutions will remain nameless. Not necessarily in chronological order, these are just a few of my observances and experiences over the past several years...
1. I tried to discover why the public transit system did not go to the large and publicly funded Huntington Museum of Art, so that people (especially kids) could have more access. That went nowhere, and the Museum remains cloistered on a distant hilltop, far removed from the masses.
2. I became a financial supporter of the Huntington Museum of Art. Toward the end of that year, I received an invitation to a Christmas event. Someone at HMOA had used a very crudely done clip-art choo choo train for the invitation. I didn’t donate anymore.
3. I paid fees to join a co-op gallery. I attended a few meetings, being very quiet and observing. Activities consisted of a great deal of “bringing of covered dishes” and actual party games. Members were asked to line up in order of height and birth origin, and for another game, members were instructed to place a paper plate on their head and “draw a tree on it”. Not once did I ever hear mentioned how to increase sales of art, or attract clients, and the only discussion of business at all consisted of reminders to “Get those dues in so you won’t stop receiving the newsletter”. I let my membership lapse.
4. I observed a gallery open on the corner of 4th Avenue and 9th street. Right next to oil paintings, you could buy fountain soda and cheese puffs. The gallery closed after a while.
5. I observed another gallery open just down the block from that one. It looked good, I got excited, and through a level of detection that would be the envy of Sherlock Holmes, I was able to discover the phone number. Repeatedly, by both phone and letter I requested a prospectus or even a blurry photocopy of their policies regarding gallery sales, presentation, commission, percentage. I never received any written material, and the gallery owner seemed surprised I’d even want such a silly thing. As far as I know, it’s still in business.
6. I began to search on the net to learn how these representatives of Huntington’s art scene were using their resources to help their members reach out to the rest of the world. The paying world, specifically. Covering the entire city, I found only a handful of effort, and 85% consisted of horrendous looking websites that hadn’t been updated in years. 10% consisted of websites that were at least regularly updated and did not make you want to stab out your eyes, but the focus of most of these seems to be on very vague emotions that are felt when “being creative”. Honestly, the people who are posting on these only rarely show you any actual art that they made. They like to show you photos of them holding a brush, though.
7. I learned that here in Huntington, W.V., Twitter is a complete mystery. I learned that Facebook is for communicating only with people you know very well personally and see face to face on a daily basis, even if you publicly state that you are on there for “networking”. Facebook should create a new specific site for Huntington. Maybe they could call it, “Who You Kin To?” as that is the basis for all social interaction here.
8. Finally, in the 21st century, there is still consistent, habitual copyright infringement in all manner of ways all over this place. It’s standard practice in my town to simply take an artists’ work and use it freely, even removing their signature or insisting that they don’t sign if they want to be paid. It has always been thus. And it does no good to argue.
Those are just a few, and they are frankly the kinder observances. My point in sharing these things is this...
Many small towns similar to Huntington got hip years ago to the fact that working creatives are an invaluable resource for a community, especially in a down economy. They tend to be civic-minded by nature, and their ideas have been utilized to increase tourism and bring in revenue all across the country. I see success stories all the time about this. I wanted to be one of those people. But that just isn’t going to happen, and I’ve got a living to make.
For years, I’ve tried to share what I know with my community. From the more blatantly ignorant I’ve been met with open laughter and actually been mocked to my face. From the more “genteel”, I’ve heard lectures on “who they are in this town”. Yes, yes, I know. You are indeed a mighty big fish. Have you heard of the internet? It’s new.
There’s a whole world out there, Huntington. And it’s passing you by. Again. When I give you my card and you tell me a few days later, “Oh, I looked at your portfolio!”, No. No, you didn’t. Analytics tells me so. But every other state in the union does look. Regularly. And Australia, Germany, France, England and Canada. (Thank you, especially, to England & Canada, btw. You know who you are, and I am truly honored to be working with you).
Huntington is my birthplace. I was raised here. I really want this town to do well, for the good of everyone. It used to be a great place to do business. Maybe someday, it will be so again.
My father had a wonderful way with words, and he often told me, “Kathy, you ain’t learned nothin’ from a mule that kicks you twice.” And after 12 years in business, I’m sick of the taste of hoof.
So as 2011 fades away, faithful readers, raise a glass with me to my only New Year’s Resolution. As of midnight tonight, I am officially resigning my post as self-appointed Art Ambassador of Huntington, West Virginia. Godspeed, gentlemen.
