Why I Gave Up on Passive Income from My Art (For Now)

Back in 2021, I set up an Etsy shop with big dreams. The plan was simple: turn my creative work into printable digital wall art, upload the files once, and let the passive income roll in. It felt like the perfect solution—no printing, packaging, or post office trips—just art I already loved making, earning for me while I slept—or so I thought.

But the reality turned out to be quite different.

The Etsy Chapter

The first sale came in not long after I opened the shop. I remember the excitement, that little ping of validation that maybe, just maybe, this could work. And then—almost immediately—I got an email saying the seller fees were going up. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I’d only made one or two sales in total, not even enough to cover the listing and transaction fees, let alone justify the time I’d spent creating mockups and writing product descriptions.

Still, I didn’t give up right away. I decided to set up a shop on my own website to avoid the growing costs. I uploaded the same digital products, hoping that cutting out the middleman would make a difference. But my website had no traffic. No one was finding it. No sales came through.

Trying Other Platforms

I tried Redbubble and Society6. I uploaded my artwork, adjusted the placement on every possible product, from mugs to tote bags to cushions. Nothing. Not a single sale.

I know those platforms require consistency—regular uploads, frequent promotions, and staying active. I gave it a go, but the lack of results made it hard to keep going. After a while, I deleted the accounts. I was also starting to question how sustainable any of these products actually were. A lot of it felt like adding more "stuff" to the world without much meaning.

A More Sustainable Option?

That’s when I found Teemill, a UK-based print-on-demand platform that uses organic materials and focuses on sustainability. They recycle old clothing, keep waste low, and actually seem to care about the planet. It felt like a better fit for me and my values.

I set up a store, uploaded a few designs, and again… nothing. Unlike Etsy or Redbubble, Teemill doesn’t have a built-in audience. You have to drive all the traffic yourself. And without a strong online following or marketing strategy, that proved difficult. My shop is still there, quietly collecting digital dust. I haven’t looked at it in months.

The Deeper Truth

For a long time, I told myself the problem was the platforms—that they were too saturated, not the right fit, or too expensive. And maybe those things were true to some extent. But eventually, I had to acknowledge something deeper: it wasn’t just about the logistics or the algorithms.

It was about confidence.

I don’t mean that I stopped creating or sharing my art. In fact, I’ve kept going. But I realised I’ve been doing so under the safety net of calling myself a “beginner artist.” It gives me a kind of permission—an explanation, even—for why my work isn’t perfect. If anyone were to criticise it, I could say, “Well, I’m still learning.” And it’s true. I am still learning. But I sometimes wonder if I’m clinging to that label a little too tightly.

It’s become a bit of a comfort blanket.

By staying in this “beginner” space, I don’t have to put my work out there in a way that asks something of people, especially not their money. I don’t have to face the possibility of rejection, because I’m not really trying to sell it. I’m just “sharing my journey.” But part of me wonders: will I ever feel ready to move beyond that? Will I ever feel like my work is good enough to charge for?

Honestly, I don’t know.

Where I’m At Now

Right now, I’m not trying to sell my artwork. Not because I don’t want to—but because I’m learning to separate the act of making art from the pressure to monetise it. I want to build a body of work that feels more consistent, more me, before I start thinking about price tags and packaging again.

When I do come back to selling, I think I’d rather start with local art markets or fairs—spaces where I can talk to people face-to-face, share the story behind what I’ve made, and see genuine reactions. That feels far less intimidating than trying to break through the noise online.

What I’ve Learned

I still love the idea of passive income. But building it—especially through art—isn’t very passive at all. It takes consistent marketing, time, and a thick skin. And sometimes, it takes confidence I don’t yet have.

I've also learned that many of these platforms reward volume over intention. There's a constant pressure to pump out new designs to stay visible. That environment doesn’t always nurture thoughtful, meaningful work—it rewards speed, trends, and hacks. And when you’re already questioning your style or direction, that can be incredibly draining.

So, for now, I’m focusing on the process, on creating work that I care about, whether or not it sells, and on sharing it with honesty—even if that means saying, “I don’t feel ready yet.”

Final Thoughts

If you’re in a similar place—still finding your style, still figuring out what “good enough” even means—please know you’re not behind. You don’t have to rush to monetise your creativity. It’s okay to grow quietly. To explore without pressure. To stay in that beginner space as long as you need to.

Maybe I’ll always feel like a beginner. Maybe one day I won’t. Either way, the work I do during this phase still matters. It still counts.

And maybe, when I’m ready, it’ll be the foundation for something more.