*Nostalgia is a sentimental longing or affection for the past, often triggered by memories of happy or meaningful experiences. It evokes a mix of emotions, blending warmth with a touch of sadness for times that can never be relived.
As an independent artist, I often find myself fragmented between two distinct worlds. On one side, there’s the realm of artists who work for others—designing and creating things that fulfill someone else’s needs or requests in exchange for payment. My presence in this world often leaves me feeling dissatisfied because what I create here rarely aligns with the inner self I yearn to express. On the other side, there’s the idealized world of individuals who have the freedom to pursue pure art, unbound by the constraints of commercial demands. These two artistic personas within me are often at odds, questioning themselves and unsure of which path to take.
But what if there were a middle ground—a space where creativity and commerce could coexist, where your art could thrive in the marketplace without losing its identity? Such a space would be a sanctuary for both the soul and the wallet, and that’s precisely what Etsy offers. Here, artists are also small business owners, producing their work and running their businesses independently while reaching a global audience. Yet, the lingering question remains: Is Etsy truly a suitable platform for independent artists and craftspeople who rely on it as their primary livelihood?
A Personal Journey: From a Salary Artist to an Artpreneur
My family’s finances were modest. I was the first in my family to choose to make a living in the arts. My parents, being practical people, believed that artists were doomed to poverty, and they weren’t wealthy enough to indulge my whimsical desire to paint aimlessly. Naturally, they vehemently opposed my dream of becoming a fine artist. Instead, they steered me toward a career that, in hindsight, I must admit suits me better than anything else - an applied arts artist. Oh, how insightful and forward-thinking they were! I’m deeply grateful for their guidance because, when faced with the harsh realities of life, the seeds of creativity often wither. My parents may not have realized it, but their pragmatic approach gave me a roadmap to pursue my ideals, albeit via a detour.
Ultimately, I became a “art worker” - creating corporate brand identities, art-directing advertising campaigns, and crafting heartfelt narratives for photographers or illustrators who had already built their reputations as KOLs. These privileged individuals allowed others to construct their stories for them, which the nation then readily accepted as their personal declarations. I did this for several years. My frustration grew in tandem with my salary, yet I couldn’t find a feasible escape route. Whenever I thought about leaving agency life, the tangled logistics of running my own business loomed large. The questions of what to sell and who to sell to clogged every delicate neuron in my brain.
But as time passed, I matured. I encountered pivotal figures who helped recalibrate my worldview, equipping me with the mindset needed to step into the business world. I also managed to save enough money to sustain myself through the lean early years when revenues were slow. I became what I call an “Artist 1.5” - neither fully belonging to the first world nor the second. I had one foot in the realm of functional art and the other in the realm of pure creativity. I no longer made things because others told me to. I began creating things because I wanted to.
However, there is one aspect of the art world I refuse to engage with: the current "fine art" scene. It’s a world polished by social media and branding, where the focus has shifted from genuine artistic expression to building a marketable brand. In this sphere, art becomes a commodity, marketed and sold for millions regardless of the artist's actual skill or the intrinsic value of their work. Branding, too, is an art form, but it’s not fine art. The artists who thrive in this environment are often those with significant financial backing, granting them the freedom to explore. And let’s be real: if their skills aren’t exceptional, they can always rely on PR teams to craft an image convincing enough to sell their work for astronomical sums.
I don’t have that kind of support. So, to avoid becoming a failure, I need to create functional pieces while finding ways to blend them with my aesthetic sensibilities. I can’t tape a banana to a wall to make a living, even though the experimental world inside me is just as vibrant as anyone else's.
Etsy: A Platform That Promised So Much
The first time I came across Etsy was back when I was working as a graphic designer at an advertising agency. I’d browse the web during downtime and stumbled upon Etsy’s website. At the time, I was earning a decent salary - probably higher than most Vietnamese wage earners -- and, to my father’s eyes, seemed to have a cushy job. But in truth, I felt creatively stifled. My work was dictated by account executives' endless requests, often nonsensical and convoluted. The very people issuing these demands lacked any understanding of design, yet it was their job to instruct those of us who were fluent in the visual language they could only vaguely envision. It was an endless cycle of miscommunication with no real resolution.
While I spent my days grappling with people whose aesthetic sense was barely existent, Etsy, at the time, seemed like a paradise, a vibrant world filled with stunning creations and sellers with distinct personalities. Just browsing the platform felt like an escape from my reality. For the first time, I could see a way out of the corporate grind.
Back then, and for a long time afterward, I never imagined I could run a solo online shop. A part of me felt inherently unsocial, and I had no desire to expose myself - a prerequisite for building trust as a seller. I believed I needed someone to support me, someone who could become a partner and help articulate my vision to the world. They could take all the glory on the public stage if they wanted; all I wanted was recognition as the creative artist behind the scenes. But no one stepped up. They were afraid. They couldn’t see me as a business-minded person. They thought I was too whimsical, too dreamy, to create anything grounded in rationality. They were so wrong. And now, after finding my own way into the Etsy ecosystem - and, more broadly, into entrepreneurship - I don’t need anyone to partner with me. I’ve proven to myself that I can do this alone. I have no intention of looking back.
Now, after nearly a year of navigating Etsy, I’ve come to see that it’s not as rosy as I once imagined. These days, Etsy is overrun with pure salespeople; it’s no longer the haven for independent artist-entrepreneurs I had hoped for. I’ve joined a few Etsy seller groups on Facebook, and some sellers casually claim that "handmade" simply means having your hand visible in the product demo photos. Isn’t that ridiculous?
These sellers have turned Etsy into something closer to a flea-market version of Amazon. They hire “art workers” (perhaps people like the old version of me) to churn out endless patterns and images using AI and online design tools, then flood the platform with ads to dominate the marketplace. Meanwhile, makers like me, those who pour time and effort into their creations, are easily drowned out in the sea of mass-marketed “handmade” goods. It’s disheartening to see the ideals of Etsy’s handcrafted ethos diluted by this kind of opportunism.
Etsy: A Simpler Choice Among Many, but...
But the most unsettling part of my experience with Etsy—the thing that keeps me on edge—is how they have repeatedly suspended my account without offering a clear reason. For those unfamiliar, Etsy has strict policies regarding handmade items and intellectual property, yet plenty of violations still slip through the cracks. I’ve never breached any of their stated rules, but my account remains suspended. What’s worse is that I’ve been left completely in the dark about what might have triggered Etsy’s bots to flag my account. If I knew, I could correct it. Despite appealing and reaching out to Etsy numerous times, I’ve received no meaningful response.
Some might argue, with a kind of defeatist mindset, that no one has the right to complain about Etsy because they’ve graciously provided us with a platform for trading. But let me set the record straight: that’s simply not true. Every seller pays fees to be part of this platform—fees for listing products, transaction fees, and a host of other charges. This creates a mutual relationship, and as such, I’m well within my rights to be frustrated when Etsy mishandles my case, causing significant harm to my revenue stream, wouldn’t you agree?
I still have customers on Etsy who try to order from me, but the platform has blocked all transactions, leaving my sales at an absolute zero. I’m convinced this is the fallout of Etsy allowing POD (print-on-demand) sellers - many of whom aren’t even graphic designers - to dominate the platform. It seems Etsy has adopted a "better safe than sorry" approach: indiscriminately suspending accounts flagged by their system without explanation, even if that means wrongly punishing legitimate sellers. This heavy-handed tactic affects innocent artists indeed.
At this point, I’ve almost entirely abandoned my efforts - 90% - to return to Etsy. Even if my shop were miraculously reactivated at some undefined point in the future, I’d severely limit the time and energy I invest in it, shifting my focus to other sales channels instead. And understandably so, Etsy hasn’t provided me with a stable foundation for building a business. In fact, the platform feels so fragile that it could collapse at any moment, judging by the countless Reddit threads I’ve read about similar issues.
What Other Options Are There for Handmade Entrepreneurs?
Let’s be real—selling is no walk in the park. Selling art? Even harder, because art isn’t a necessity.
You could try building your own website to promote and sell your creations, just like I’m attempting to do. But trust me, it’s a soul-draining mountain of work. If you’re a graphic designer or a product designer, you might be tempted to think only about the website’s UI. But what about hosting, managing payments, and teaching yourself SEO to attract customers? You’ll have to start from scratch unless you have the funds to outsource this. And let’s not forget—unless you’ve already built a strong fanbase or have a budget for ads, getting noticed in the vast sea of online content is an uphill battle.
Then there’s selling at fairs or local markets. But in my experience, the market for handmade goods in many places can be quite limited. In regions where disposable income is lower, people often prioritize affordability and practicality over the time and effort it takes to create something unique. Mass-produced goods—often imported—dominate these markets because they’re cheap, visually appealing, and widely available. Even at artisan fairs, it’s not uncommon to find mass-produced items being passed off as handmade, making it difficult for the average consumer to distinguish between the two. But at the end of the day, you’ve got to keep going, haven’t you?
I won’t lie to myself by pretending Etsy’s market isn’t superior to the two options I just mentioned to make peace with my current suspension. Etsy has a global community of buyers who understand that buying handmade isn’t just about owning a product—it’s about supporting an artist, a creator, and a dream. These customers recognize the value of genuine craftsmanship. They’re willing to pay a little extra because they know they’re getting something with a story behind it. They’re not hunting for the cheapest option; they’re searching for something with soul. And those are the ideal customers every artist hopes to reach.
The Verdict: Is Etsy Still a Viable Option for Artpreneurs?
So, is Etsy still a platform worth considering for independent artists trying to make a living? Probably yes. it’s definitely worth a shot, even though I personally find it quite unpredictable and hope no one has to deal with the kind of arbitrary suspensions I’ve faced. If things go smoothly, you could build a steady income and work on your own terms. But if luck isn’t on your side, you might end up draining a lot of energy. Still, you’ll walk away with valuable experience in handling unexpected challenges.
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