Profile of a female entrepreneur growing a company while meeting personal needs.
The founder of ArtCalendar faces the same quandary confronting legions of entrepreneurs whose once-fledgling businesses are coming of age. Can she grow her company while meeting her personal needs, too? If so, how?
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A humid May morning on a rural country lane in Virginia -- heat-soaked air, the whine of a distant lawn mower, cats passed out in the shade of benches. Inside, the house is quiet but for the hum of the air conditioner and the clicking of computer keys. A baby gurgles; the mother absentmindedly coos back, "Oh yeah?" The phone rings; after a short conversation the house is again ticking with keystrokes.
Set under oak trees, a long stone's throw from the Potomac River at the edge of their property, is the home of Carolyn Blakeslee and Drew Steis -- and the home of ArtCalendar, as well. The company tour is short: climb eight steps, turn right, and find next to the baby's room a compact, 10-by-9-foot office containing exactly one desk, two chairs, one Macintosh computer, and two bookshelves. That is the nerve center for ArtCalendar, a monthly publication for visual artists that lists grants, juried shows accepting applications, and other forums to which artists can submit works.
Started in 1986, ArtCalendar has doubled in size each year in both circulation and revenues: in 1990 ArtCalendar had $84,000 in revenues, with a circulation of 5,500, and the publication is on schedule with $178,000 this year. Blakeslee, 33, began ArtCalendar with the mistaken belief that it would be a half-time venture. After earning her living for seven years by playing cocktail piano at the Hyatt Regency on Capitol Hill, she had planned to take up oil painting more seriously but was spending a lot of time trying to track down information about shows and commissions she could apply for. Figuring other artists were similarly frustrated, she decided to launch a journal that would bring all that information together.
Five and a half years, 55 issues, and one baby later, Blakeslee today is at a common and difficult crossroads. The business turned out to be full-time and more. ArtCalendar has become the definitive source of listings for artists nationwide. Spurred by pride, aspiration, and her success to date, Blakeslee wants, on one hand, to keep growing the journal and even to undertake new, related projects. On the other hand, she wants more free time with her new daughter. Blakeslee is tentatively taking steps in the direction of expansion, but she wonders if she can carve out a manageable family life at the same time.
Can she continue to grow with the business structured as it is -- a home-based operation run almost entirely by one woman? Or will growth demand a change in the very nature of the business -- forcing a move to an outside office or the hiring of more people? If she doesn't want that, should she stop growing? For that matter, can her business stop growing and still survive?
And what's this thing -- the product of five and a half years of sweat and sacrifice -- worth, anyway? Like countless other proprietors of small, often one- or two-person service operations, Blakeslee wonders: What steps should I take to build equity, to wind up with something I can sell? That isn't just a hypothetical quandary; it's Blakeslee's life. She's smart, ambitious, and deeply thoughtful. And she wants to know: Can I grow ArtCalendar and meet my financial goals while devoting myself to my family and my art, too?
What should I do?
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Until about 18 months ago we were winging it on a lot of things," says Carolyn Blakeslee, perched on a swivel chair in her sunlit office, with daughter, Sheila, propped in a baby seat. Winging it for sure; Blakeslee has grown her business on practically instinct alone. When she started it, she compiled information on regional art shows during her spare time. She called local art associations and rented or was given their membership lists. She made brochures offering her unfledged journal and addressed them with high hopes. "I thought when I sent out a thousand brochures that half the people would want it," she admits. She was crushed when just 3% placed orders (actually, not bad for the publishing field). Eventually, a couple hundred subscribers signed on, and Blakeslee printed 300 copies of the 20-page first issue. "I wept when I took it to the printer," she recalls, "because I was so scared."
By the third issue Blakeslee was including national listings and soliciting a national audience. She relied on intuition when choosing which lists to rent to boost her subscriber base. She didn't have a business plan, and she didn't keep close watch on why people did or didn't renew. "I can't believe we didn't keep track of those things," she reflects today, shaking her head. "It didn't seem necessary. It's amazing we're still afloat. But you learn as you go."
Growth came fairly easily. The incremental steps of doubling the number of subscribers from 600 to 1,200, then 1,200 to 2,400, then 2,400 to 5,000 weren't unwieldy to execute; Blakeslee has reminded subscribers to renew with just one renewal mailing each year, and has sent out direct mail steadily, if scattershot, over the past few years. Same with gross revenues: ArtCalendar realized $84,000 last year without any preplanning. Blakeslee thinks the next one, or maybe two, doublings of circulation and revenues may come nearly as easily.
In 1989 she began signing on free-lancers to write some of the four or five columns and interviews that appear each month on topics such as marketing and art law. (The meat of the journal has remained its 15 or so pages of listings.) A part-time employee works out of her own home for the company, putting stickers on mailings, typing new names into the promotional database, and sending out books sold by the journal.
