When I first embarked on The Ten Thousand Flowers Project, I was running a little hypomanic and had the grand idea that all I needed to do was post flowers on social media, link to this site, and mail out the flowers. On some level, I had it in my head that things would go viral and I wouldn’t have to work very hard at it. Hypomania gives one boundless confidence.
When that failed to happen, I turned to handing them out at places like art festivals, the High Museum, and the streets of Venice, Italy. It took a lot out of me to approach people, but I figured this would build up my ability to shrug off rejection and persist. At the time, I also had a dream of becoming a full-time artist with my Word Art pieces, and I knew I needed to be prepared for that.
When the reactions were positive, it was a joyous moment. People thanked me profusely and I got the impression that I’d made their day. But not everybody responded positively. Even the most polite “no, thanks” cut me to the core. But the flowers still piled up and I needed to find homes for them, so I persisted, though each rejection (not all of them were polite) made me more and more reluctant to put myself out there to hand out the flowers.
And one day I asked myself why I was doing this to myself. Why was it still so uncomfortable? Then it hit me — I was so uncomfortable because I was making other people uncomfortable. Far too many free things people hand out are some kind of lead magnet for a cult, or something that, surprise, you have to pay for. And not everybody is going to like my style of crayon kid art. By approaching them and offering them art they didn’t ask for, I was making things more awkward than they ever needed to be.
So, I’m not going to do it anymore. No more one-on-one approaches. I’ll either get an art show table or wear a T-shirt that says “FREE ART! Ask me how.” But mostly I’ll keep posting the latest ones on social media and leading people back to the page for it. Perhaps the backlash against generative AI can be a boost for my tiny handmade art.
I’ll keep drawing flowers anyway. I’m not even going to worry about making more than I’m giving away. I’ll keep going until ten thousand, and then I can plow all of my freed-up time and energy into finding people who want them.
Though if you want to ask me for one at free@10kflowers.com, I certainly won’t object. I can assure you I’m not running out any time soon.
Hi Sheila,
I recently came across your latest post and wanted to write to you. On a trip to Atlanta back in 2018 or 2019, I visited an exhibition at a museum, and that’s where you gave me flower #873.
Yes, it was strange, and yes, it was a little uncomfortable, especially because my English isn’t the best. I loved that you were able to look at yourself and understand where that discomfort came from.
But here’s something curious: that flower traveled with me from Atlanta to Colombia, where I live (I’m originally from Venezuela). You might think it came along by accident, but no, I decided to keep it. Strange and awkward as the moment was, nobody expects a gift from someone they don’t know, let alone something that person put their own time into.
And here’s something even more curious: that museum stuck with me because of you. Your presence that day, handing me that flower, was one of those odd but lovely things that anchor you to a place. I can still picture it in detail, and I treasure that visit as one of the loveliest memories of my time in Atlanta.
I think we often live on autopilot: we’re there, but we’re not present. And I feel that’s what your flowers are about: being present, existing above everything that consumes us without leaving a mark.
You left a mark on me, and it’s the kind worth remembering.
With a hug from Colombia.
Ivan
Hello, Ivan!
Thank you! I’m glad to know that my gift gave you such a pleasant memory of the High Museum. (It’s the only museum in Atlanta I’ve handed out flowers in, so it has to be that one.) I got a lot of positive responses there.
Flower #873 seems like such a small number! I’m past 5,000 by now (halfway there!) and still drawing. This project has been a part of my life for so long I don’t really know how to stop.
I appreciate your kind words, and thanks for stopping by to tell me the story of where one of those flowers went.