Nothing like success to change your mind. I plugged away at the web templates, and gradually my lessons from My Favorite Geek found application. Old, pre-blogging fears of my computer faded; once again I learned that the new desktop will not explode and take me out with it if I press the wrong key.
I perservered on the monkey theory. A million monkeys on a million computers (with cut and paste) will eventually produce Shakespeare. My product more closely resembles one of those Dick And Jane primers, but it's legible.
So I no longer hate HTML. It's simply a language that I'm picking up in a Berlitz-style immersion program. I can now say, in a bad accent, "Como esta usted" and "Me llamo Fragile Industries." Literacy and fluency may never come, I've accepted that. I just need to know enough to get by as a tourist.
All the pieces of my website are done, the images load, I've not only completed the template forms, I've even created additional linked pages out of whole cloth. In yet another metaphor, I've made the squares of the quilt, probably with mismatched thread on the underside but functional, and now they need to be stitched together and the quilt put in place. My Favorite Geek has promised to tweak the pages to perfection and finish the assembly as neccessary. Like any teacher, he said my efforts would eventually be empowering (he's big on empowerment). He was right. I may actually apply this confidence to other tasks I've put off. Maybe today I'll do the dishes.
In response to Riannan's comment on my previous diatribe, I'm not designing a site for blogging, though I may eventually put up a separate blog there. No, not for blogging, to sell stuff. I have this delusion I'm an artiste *say in French.* (I can never say that word without thinking of the ancient Bette Midler throwaway line on her live album, "I don't do shows in bed no more, honey, I'm an artiste!") The under construction page for Fragile Industries dot com explains what I do, as much as words can explain a visual medium. I've been thinking that one limitation of a website for my work is that photographs and words cannot convey the interactive component of the shrines and the books. Drawers to open, dangly bits to play with, pockets to explore, even the simple act of turning pages involves the viewer/user/reader at a level deeper than a two dimensional work. That's part of the fun of it, the process of discovery. As a kid, I had one of those puzzle boxes that would open only by sliding different pieces and pressing buttons and tabs in a specific order. It was one of my favorite toys. I try to include that magic.
Another problem is that I try to intensify that personal connection by customizing the work when I know where its going. Nearly everything I've made has been made for a specific recipient, and given away. (That makes creating a gallery of past work challenging. I've only recently started to take pictures of the finished product. Jaryn, my friend of many years in San Francisco, mailed back to me an altered book I made for her 50th birthday last year so I could photograph it. Much appreciated, honey.) Anyway, creating ready-made, one size fits some if not all, kinds of pieces seems more like manufacturing than creativity. I'm simply going to continue to make items that please me, and hope they find a home. My site-to-be is full of invitations for custom commissions, but I doubt that I'll have a flood of requests.
The best example is what happened last week. I mailed Houston a shrine (a whimsical salute to Beauregard, his late cat) to his office, which is where I used to work, too. This was not by accident. I was showing off, demonstrating that there is Life After Law. Several of his/my co-workers admired it and expressed interest. The potential commissions fell through, however. Part of it may have been the price, and part may have been that they would be committing to a pig in a poke. I'm not going to give this stuff away. Houston's shrine took the equivalent of over 10 days of full time work, spread out over a couple of months. (I lost my focus for a while there.) If I charged the minimum hourly wage (I know I can't get a lawyer's rates), that shrine would cost over $450. I'm charging $200-300, depending on the intricacy of the shrine. A large altered book takes even longer, but probably goes for less. Houston's take on things was that the shrines and books would be best sold as impulse purchases, on display in a shop where people can interact with the specific piece, fall in love with it, and take it home before they realize they've spent money. A website doesn't offer that possiblility exactly, and custom work is impossible under those circumstances.
We shall see. I'm also bowing to commercialism and putting more craft items on the site -- pieces that can be included in other people's altered art, whether a "fill-it-in" kind of journal, cards, tag books, miscellaneous embellishments. I'm pretty confident that stuff will move -- there's a thriving eBay market.
If anyone out there actually runs an online store for art or non-manufactured items, I'd appreciate any advice.
Now, to those dishes. They won't wash themselves. It's true, I've waited for days.
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