The Tangible And The Real
Reflections on a year of doing too much online, and what's next for me in 2024
Does anyone else feel like the Christmas buzz is starting later this year? Normally around this time I’d be rushed off my feet, packing orders, answering emails, hosting workshops and trying to fit in some semblance of a social life.
Instead, this year, it’s strangely quiet. Plenty of other small businesses that I follow online have noticed the same thing. I guess it’s no surprise, with the year we’ve all had. In a way, I’m proud of us for collectively choosing to slow down instead of speed up- although it might be that we’re all just leaving everything to the last minute…
I’m making the most of this slower-than-expected time to reflect on the year that’s just been, and to look ahead to what next year will hold. After all, 2023 passed in a blur. I’ve always had an iterative and experimental approach to running my business, but this year I went into turbo drive. I launched new online courses and reintroduced workshops, and rebranded Balfour & Co as a weaving school. I stopped selling yarn and then started again, launched this Substack and joined TikTok and yes, reorganised my studio more times than I can count.
As I look back, I can see that most of these innovations and experiments, with the exception of workshops, took place online. Some of those online things (like this here Substack!) were positive things that made me feel creatively energised. But others left me feeling drained without quite being sure why. Maybe it’s the intangible nature of digital creation, the fact that hours can pass beyond the glow of my laptop screen, without me ever feeling like I’m making progress. Or maybe it’s the relentlessness of it, the constant churn, the need to always be producing more content, more and more.
In the online world, you see, everything is permanently switched on. There’s no opening or closing hours. My website is always up, my inbox is always open. The content I make goes out to my audience whether I’m awake or asleep. Everything is always “available” - and I think that’s the thing I find so hard. There’s this underlying expectation (and Lord knows, I’ve felt this in my own heart too) that the things we see online should be ours if we want them.
I notice this in the furious messages sent to makers like Florian Gadsby when his online shop sells out in seconds and people miss out on buying from him, or in the stress felt by small businesses when they accidentally go viral and are stuck making thousands of products by hand. I see it in my own small way with the workshops I ran this year, where I found myself fielding requests to run workshops in other cities or countries, or people asking why they weren’t online. When I’d send those same people the links to my online courses, I would of course never hear back. If a workshop sold out, suddenly that was the workshop everyone asked about, instead of the workshop next month with plenty of spaces. I don’t blame people for their schedules, or for the products they are interested in! But I do think I should have stood my ground a little more, and not bent over backwards quite so much.
If I was to give 2023 a name, it would be The Year Of Trying To Appeal To Everyone. I had in-person workshops, online courses, more offerings, more products, even more colours of rug yarn available than ever before. And every time I got another email about the things that weren’t available, that people couldn’t have, I would stretch myself further, adding more workshop dates (which I’d then have to cancel because I’d run myself into the ground) or saying I’d launch a new online course (which, again, I’d cancel because I’d bitten off more than I could chew.)
The irony is, 2023 was meant to be the year where I started making art again. I’d moved studios in 2022 with the express intention of cutting costs so I’d have more time to create. Yet another year has passed, without me making much headway. There have been some small experiments, a few new pieces, but nothing like what I’d originally hoped. I became an artist because I wanted to make things with my hands, real things, and to leave my mark on the physical world. I never planned to spend hours each day staring at my laptop.
Again, it’s no one else’s fault that I’ve done this - it’s mine. I made the choice to try and be super accessible, super available, always on call and replying to DMs at midnight. I made the choice to fixate on giving other people what they wanted, instead of thinking about what I want.
So in 2024, I’m trying to shift my focus away from online, away from trying to appeal to everyone, and onto the tangible and the real. I have some genuinely exciting projects in the works, all of which are in-person. I’ve booked a gallery for a solo show in May, and I’m working towards that. And I still have ideas for new things I want to launch for Balfour & Co - but they are all physical things, something for you to hold and keep. Inevitably, this shift does mean that not everyone will be able to attend an in-person event, or buy something that has sold out - but that’s ok. Sometimes things are more special because they’re rare, and don’t happen often. Besides, a shift away from the virtual world is very much needed, both for myself and for all of us.
I want 2024 to be the Year Of My Real Life, where I do things in person, and do things that are personal. I’ll be making new art, but I’ll also be working towards the most important event of my year - getting married to my most favourite person in the world.
I fully admit that without him, I most definitely would not be setting the same boundaries around my time, or prioritising my own art, or making decisions about what I really want. We like to joke that he’s making an honest woman out of me, because he’s encouraging me to speak up about what I would like to do, instead of doing what I think other people want.
As we started planning our wedding and agreeing on the guest list (always agonising at the best of times) he suggested having a larger event than we’d originally discussed. On people-pleasing autopilot, I blurted out “We can have a bigger wedding if you want!” And then my newfound honesty belatedly kicked in and I said “Wait I shouldn’t have said that, I really don’t want a bigger wedding.” He beamed at me with pride for actually telling the truth.
So, here’s to the year of my real life and your real life - a year where social media can help us not hinder us, where the curated images come second to the lives we really lead. To being honest about what you really want, about what you really think, to building things together, to the tangible and the real.
Thank you for sharing your reflections with such honesty and openness. Congratulations on your engagement, wishing you a year of fulfilment ahead xx
Congratulations on your engagement! 🥰