You see, art truly comes with no packaging. The artists mind produces a concept, and their hands produce the product, called art. Whether it’s pottery, painting, glass or wood, our medium and our hearts lead us to create, and once the piece is completed, we hopefully disconnect from the piece and turn it into the world to be cherished and valued by you, the customer. Some artists are creative enough to put a sign together explaining the concept, but in my experience, most don’t. I personally have a story for one item I make, the unglazed wine cup. I’ve even forced myself to try to sign every piece, and produce some explanation for pieces that need to be explained. But it’s inconsistent and often overlooked. Most of the artwork in our gallery speaks for itself. What we’ve observed since owning Hummingbird Lane, is the connection between a customer and the piece they choose to “adopt” or purchase for a gift. It’s a very personal process, and packaging isn’t ever considered when a true connection is made. It’s one of the beautiful aspects of the business for which I find myself responsible. And I’m proud of my business, and the artists I represent. These times haven’t been easy for any of us, and yet we persevere and continue to produce. Truly, we have no choice, but the realities of today’s world have driven artists to produce less and face the obstacles of this economic climate.

But, as sales have declined, I have to wonder why Wal-Mart continues to thrive. And Home Depot, and others. When I shop at these places (which isn’t very often anymore, I’m afraid), I find myself with packaging that I can’t open, features I don’t understand in products I didn’t know I needed, and constant reassurances that this product is a great value. I AM human after all, and subject to the same communication others receive when walking through these stores. They talk to me in several languages, explaining, reassuring, and guaranteeing. They uplift my decision making process until I, too, am convinced that it is the right thing for me to do: part with my hard earned dollar for whatever is the necessity of the week.

Back here at my gallery, after a trip to one of these stores,  I am painfully aware of the lack of packaging. The lack of reassurances that help Wal-Mart customers feel good about spending money. The lack of guarantees that this product will make you happy, more comfortable, that you’ll enjoy your environment on a deeper level, and will delight any gift receiver. I can’t guarantee any of that, but I do offer it as a service that I myself have found to be of value. I guarantee that my product isn’t just made in the United States of America, it’s made by someone we know, a person who also breathes life right here in our community, most of the time. They are all working artists who have put their fears aside and produced something with their own hands. There isn’t a factory involved, but often there is expensive equipment such as kilns, torches, lathes, and the like. Often there are injuries and illnesses associated to an art form that an artist has been informed of the risks and they choose their fate accordingly. My customers will often ask for something they are used to finding here, only to find out that the artist is unable to produce due to illness, or even death. People don’t go on forever, like factories. Life is cyclical, and so is the art form that each life produces. We are human beings.

So, when a customer asks if I have the box that a piece came in, I am aware, again, that not everyone understands what has happened behind the scenes for any piece in this gallery. There is no box. There may be a basement studio, a kiln, or a moving box. There may be a frame on the photograph, but the packaging would read, “This artist broke his leg during the hike that resulted in this photograph.” That’s no reassurance, it is simply the truth. So many people now want to get back down to basics, that they comment they could have done a certain piece, or will when they get home. They take the concept that was born of one artist, and set intentions for themselves. “If they can do it, I can, too!” And they are correct. I never would have thought that I would produce pottery, and yet here I am today with two studios and a burning desire to play in the mud, daily.

The difference between people is amazing, and I hear so many stories of art galleries who have closed, artists who quit producing, and customers who would buy if only… If only it were green, if only it were blue, if only it were bigger, if only it were to fit my décor… I wonder if we had a package for every piece that said, “if you buy me, I will do my best to bring you the joy I saw on your face the first time we met, every time you look at me,” if our sales would pick up. If people would trust their first instinct. “Buying art is a responsible way to spend your money. You are putting money directly back into your community. It isn’t often you get that opportunity” could be another reassurance we could put on the art package. But alas, there is no package. There is nothing between the piece and the consumer. No reassurances. No understanding or explanation. Just our hearts on display, front and center, for you to accept or reject. It can be painful and it can be joyful.

But I believe in our mission. I believe in the fact that the lack of packaging on the product I sell will not contribute to the growing land fills. I am less of a mess to clean up after when I’m gone, and I’m more self sufficient this way. While I do wrap and provide boxes for some pieces, there is nothing pretentious about my gift wrapping that makes it unusable in the future. Pretty much, what you see is what you get. No guarantees, just heart and work and medium. Perhaps this is a challenge the art world has always experienced, but today, it’s on my mind. Perhaps it is something we’ll have to change in the future, simply to reassure folks that it’s ok to trust themselves and their feelings that are stirred when making a connection with a piece of work. But I doubt much will change about the artist. The modest, humble nature of an artist will continue to have trouble providing any guarantees, as how does one guarantee a product of the heart?

Oh well, just on my mind.. trying to put the shopper back in the gallery, and make you question your need for fancy, informative packaging.

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