In a city chock-full of eccentric hustlers, renowned street artists, funk'd out crafts people, bad-ass creatives, or whatever you feel like calling em', it can be intimidating to jump into the mix. Some days you feel like you're riding high, and while you channel your new creations, you feel locked into your purpose. Other days you're stuck second, third, and fourth-guessing yourself. It's as if you tossed unwavering confidence and joy into a blender with a scoop of self-loathing and a cup of cognitive immobility and chugged it. It's easy to absolutely love the creative process in your vacuum, but when it comes time to share with all the other two-legged freaks out there, that love can evolve into overly defensive angst or a paradoxical case of imposter syndrome.
So why share at all? If these states of satisfying cognitive flow and creative paralysis clash so violently with one another, shouldn't you just keep your creations to yourself?
The internal conflict that these questions produced within me only ceased to exist when I realized that anyone creating anything feels this way at some point. It's part of the process. Once controlled, these overly dramatic internal emotions actually help me set a continuously elusive personal performance standard. A creative standard that can't be satisfied because the bar height isn't permanently set, but rather increased for eternity. Better yet, the realization that we are all riding the same internal struggle bus during the creative process encourages synergistic collaboration and peer-driven inspiration. I've found it to be humbling and restorative whenever I can admire the hard-earned experience of other creators in their craft, but I find it self-destructive and naive to take an envious posture. It’s more effective and fulfilling to enter the creative social scene with the former flavor of ethics.
It is well known that if you want to improve in a discipline, you need to surround yourself with the pros of that particular discipline. You must recognize and respect the consistent work that highly skilled creators put themselves through to get to the point where you happen to be admiring them. Without fully acknowledging their journey to mastery, you risk spiraling into delusion. A delusion that involves your dissociated expectations of what acquiring true mastery entails. I find it important to dismiss these bizarre undertones of entitlement in any creative space.
When I started Fort and Bay in June of 2022, it was a way for me to start respecting my creativity differently. I have always loved creating, but I've never felt comfortable enough until recently to interact with highly skilled artists as an up-and-coming artist myself. This comfort didn't come from an increase in skill level, because I'm not where I want to be skill-swise, but it came from a change in mindset. Fort and Bay has been a creativity vehicle that allows me to expose myself to the work and habits of other veteran creators, and I hope that entering the playing field will help me find mentors, and eventually allow me to give back as a mentor myself.
This takes me to the article's title- Fort and Bay Enters The SF Maker's Market Scene. The first and only maker's market I have participated in so far is the West Coast Craft market. Fortunately for me, this event takes place a five-minute walk from my studio making it one of the most convenient markets for me to attend as a trial run. Walking through WCC is like making your way through a gauntlet of self-expression. It was overwhelming at first, but once I settled into the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd crawling down rows and rows of 10' x 10' booths, I realized how rad it was that this otherwise stale swath of space had been transformed into pocket after pocket of creative flavor. Handcrafted chef's knives, ceramics, poster prints, sustainable clothing brands, bright coveralls, bleached jeans, and beer! The craft mash-up is impressive, to say the least, and the fashion spectrum is broad. If we could burn down department stores and replace their empty lots with maker's markets, I would light the match...if jail time wasn't a thing or whatever.
Not only is it a fun and high-energy environment, but it’s an extremely productive one. The real-time exposure to shoppers, and the observable feedback you can absorb is both important for brand growth and personal fulfillment. In addition to sales and the opportunity to communicate the personalized printing services that Fort and Bay has to offer, I was able to observe the less quantifiable factors. Witnessing the emotional reaction someone has when their eyes lock onto your art is super rad! It feels as though you have effectively communicated the ineffable and, in an instant, shared your many experiences that led up to creating that specific piece of visual art. Whether they become a customer that day or not, they provided important motivation. Of course I enjoy drawing, painting, and designing for the act of doing so, but when other’s pump you up, it allows you to connect with the goliath collective that is art.
Participating in this community event was epic, and I plan on applying to more pop-up markets like it in the future! Our brand focuses on stocking unique, organic cotton t shirts and hoodies featuring original artwork that we screen print by hand using water based ink. You can read about the screen printing process here. Be sure to sign up for our email list and follow us on Instagram to see what we do next!
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