We were lucky to catch up with Jaiden Dokken recently and have shared our conversation below.
Jaiden, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Are you happy as a creative professional? Do you sometimes wonder what it would be like to work for someone else?
As a first generation college student, the entire point of getting a degree was supposed to be to get a good, stable job. That was the initial objective, and I had my eyes on an education degree so that I could become a teacher. But my first year of college was very rocky. I had to transfer schools, and then through a student teaching opportunity I soon realized I was dreading those 4 hours per week spent in that classroom. This was bad news, and I was unmoored, feeling like I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. So I began just taking classes that interested me, painting, wild foods identification and harvesting, a writing class that focused entirely on trees. There was a constant nagging anxiety about what I would do after college, but once I indulged my curiosity it couldn’t be satiated. I spent the rest of my degree chasing my interests, and reveling in how they all found a way to connect with and inform one another. In a panic, I once asked my advisor what sort of job I could get with this degree I was stitching together, and she replied, “Well, you made up your degree, didn’t you? I guess you’ll just have to make up your job as well!” At the time, this only worsened my fears and felt incredibly unhelpful, but I do chuckle about it now, because that’s exactly what happened. After college I was looking for work outside of my part-time coffee shop job, and I was completely broke, with less than a month’s rent in my bank account. Impossibly, I was offered a full-time salaried job with an artificial intelligence software company. Despite having zero skills in this field, I obviously took it, desperate for some income. I stayed at that job for two years, and that still marks the most financially stable time of my entire life. I knew exactly how much money I’d make each month, I had all my bills on auto-pay, I never needed to check my bank account before making a purchase. And yet, I was miserable. I had zero passion for the work, I hated feeling like my entire life was scheduled and controlled by someone else, and because of this I could feel the edges of myself curdling into a person I did not want to be. I realized that I would rather be financially insecure and passionate about my work than secure and hating how I spent most of the hours of my week. I am privileged to be able to make that call; I have mostly lived with the same group of friends my entire adult life, all of us crammed together so we can split rent and bills. I do not have any children or other dependents. I have a wonderful support system, so if I ever do get myself in a really bad financial situation, I know I have people who would make sure I have food in my belly and a place to sleep. I am incredibly lucky. And also, that’s what so much of this creative work means to me, the nurturing of community and relationships. To support someone’s creativity is a way to build out this future we dream of, where a person’s value is not determined by how well they play the game of capitalism, but by how whole they feel and how they cultivate wholeness in their community. So yes, I absolutely think about what it would be like to have a regular job. I am always open to picking up part time positions, one-off gigs, etc., in order to pay my bills. But these last couple of years as a working artist have been exquisite. Yes, I usually need to doublecheck my bank account before I go to the grocery store, but I love working in my studio, I love vending at pop-ups, and I love hosting workshops and events. Right now, this is the most connected to a greater community I have ever felt, and that is worth the insecurity often associated with creative work.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I am a ceramicist, printmaker, writer, and illustrator, as well as currently serving as the first Clallam County Poet Laureate. I think one of my greatest strengths as an artist, and a community member, is my multifaceted approach to artistic endeavors. I am not an expert at any one thing; I dabble with any art medium that comes my way, and if you want to talk about pottery I will inevitably try to convince you to start making zines, or darn your socks, or build a little free library in front of your house. I cannot possibly pick a single project or art form as the most important in my repertoire, because they all need to exist so they can feed off each other. I’ve always dabbled with selling my art, mostly as a way to make money to buy more art supplies. I’ve sold hand drawn cards in coffee shops I’ve worked at, hung my work in a few different small delis, and sold one-off pieces to whoever mentioned an interest. I grew up being told that it would be impossible to be a working artist, and so I relegated that to a very part-time hobby. But as I was launching a cidery with my friend, we were funneling any money we made back into the business, meaning we weren’t paying ourselves anything. Then COVID hit, and the catering company I was working at was no longer booking events. So my art accidentally became my main source of income, and even though it was tight, I was somehow making it work. Later, when we decided to dissolve the cidery, I decided it was time to take the plunge and try to be a full-time artist. Suddenly, I had all the hours of the week to build out my studio, to work on art, to evolve this hobby into a business. It was liberating and wild, and the happiest I had been in years. After feeling that, it is difficult to consider other careers. My studio is always messy, different crafts cross-contaminating, and the back of my car is usually stuffed with pop-up event tables, totes of thrifted art supplies, and a collection of poetry zines to give away. It is an honest, chaotic joy, and I get butterflies just thinking about it all. So I make pottery and little ceramic pronoun pins, or ones that say stuff like, “crybaby”, “live laugh lust”, and “make cool stuff!” I use glazes that make me happy. I carve stamps and print on thrifted paper and textiles, designs ranging from an elegant floral scene, to a declarative statement of “brazen rural queer” printed across the front of a tee shirt. I write, print, and recite poems that often feel like reading my diary out loud, and do my best to encourage others to be creative and vulnerable too.
Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?
I had to unlearn, and relearn, what success looks and feels like. Capitalism (and a lot of other -isms) asserts a very specific brand of success, and I grew up looking for A+s and gold stars wherever I could find them. This meant I thought advanced degrees would lead to a salaried job, and that would pay for a wedding and support my children, pay for a house, as well my one week of annually allotted vacation. This imagined future felt incredibly stifling, but I tried to cram myself into these parameters and get used to this eventuality. But the people I surround myself just kept inspiring me out of this narrow view. My sister is a remarkable self-taught artist who bluntly carves out the life she wants. My parents are scrappy, my friends are all these daring, intelligent, brave people who demand so much from this life. My partner (who is so smart and gorgeous, it’s wild) is very detailed oriented, so when he consistently, and enthusiastically, supports whatever frenzied project I’m embarking on, it feels extra special. These people have helped me adjust my compass, to really ask myself what success looks like to me. I got to find out that I don’t actually want to get married or have children. I decided to not persue a masters degree right now. I don’t want a classic job, and who knows if I’ll ever not live in a household of roommates. But those aren’t my success markers anymore. Instead, I get to assess how I feel about the hours I spend doing this work. Do I feel enlivened, inspired, curious? Does my work foster community connections? Do I have endless opportunity to grow and progress? Do I like the person I am when I’m doing this work? These are my new markers for success, and I feel the best I have ever felt.
Are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?
I am a huge proponent of seeking grant funding and other opportunities like this. I paid for college with scholarships and grants, and have continued seeking this type of funding ever since. There are all sorts of small business grants available, as well as scholarships for creative programs and classes. Many people feel intimated to apply, but I air on the side of “apply for everything”. Sure, that means I get my fair share of denial letters, but it only takes one award letter to change everything. I encourage people to especially look at local opportunities; you are much more likely to get a grant being offered by your city government than one offered at a national level. It can feel difficult to get your finger on the funding pulse at first, but keep sleuthing around. For example, my county’s economic development council sends out weekly newsletter that, every once in awhile, highlights regional grant opportunities for small businesses. This is how I found out about, and received, a grant to purchase some of my start-up supplies.I regularly check the ArtsWA website to keep tabs on potential funding for artists. As a low-income artist, I received a scholarship last year to attend a national writing conference for free. There are pockets of money out there, and sometimes very few people actually apply for it. So I try to convince people to suss out where those pockets of money are, and go ahead and apply!
Contact Info:
- Website: jaidendokken.com
- Instagram: @jaidendokkenart
- Other: www.patreon.com/JaidenDokkenArt