Looking back on 22 years of United Goods
By Christy Johnson, founder & CEO of United Goods
Reflecting on the long history of my brand feels kinda surreal. I don't think I ever thought too far into the future when I began officially working as a freelance artist in October 2003.
My little business was born in a tiny studio apartment in the Uptown neighborhood of Minneapolis, Minnesota. I had gone back to school for graphic design while working full-time as a writer and editor. Two and a half years after enrolling in art school, I graduated with an associate’s degree, and my lawyer friend helped me create an LLC for redshoes26 design (which I later renamed United Goods). I was legit!
In those early days, in addition to working with various clients on logos, branding, and event and wedding invitations, I also made blank notecards that featured my digital illustrations. (As some of you may already know, before going full-time freelance, I had worked for five years as a graphic designer in the Exhibits Division at the Science Museum of Minnesota. It was there that I developed my distinct illustration style that’s simple and clean with black outlines.)
I sadly don't have many photos of my exhibit work, but being lead designer on the Dead Sea Scrolls was a highlight (circa 2010).
I thought I’d wholesale my notecards to local retailers and make a killing (so naive)! I had several artist friends who did lots of art fairs and I loved visiting them in their booths. But I never ever wanted to do in-person events, and swore I never would.
What do you think happened?
Yep, I agreed to do one holiday pop-up at a friend-of-an-artist-friend’s house, and I ended up making a few bucks. Feeling it hadn’t been so bad after all, that summer I signed up for my first outdoor event.
I borrowed my oh-so-generous friend’s 10-foot-by-10-foot pop-up tent, somehow crammed it into my Saturn Ion (with the passenger seat pushed all the way up and folded all the way down), and set up in my booth spot with my 3-foot table. It looked ridiculous with my petite table under that big tent, but I was only showcasing a small collection of cards, so I didn’t (or couldn’t) fill any more space under the tent, even if I wanted to!
After I had a few more outdoor shows under my belt, I saved up some dough and bought my own pop-up tent. I added more notecards to my small collection, and eventually bought a 6-foot table (then a second) to display my growing list of offerings.
Finding what actually worked
Oh man, the stuff I tried in those first few years. Drink coasters made out of the centers of old, scratched records? Check. Collages assembled from vintage frames, found objects, and the sleeves and inserts from the previously mentioned records? Yep. There was even a (very) brief period where I ironed my illustrations onto baby onesies and sold infinity scarves.
Me at my booth filled with sooooo many different kinds of art at the Fine Line in Minneapolis (circa mid 2010s).
Around about seven or eight years, though, there was a shift. I stopped making random things that my brain dreamt up and began producing art that actually meant something to me: my mini landmark prints, which I called State Icons. Turns out, when you love what you’re making, you tend to find an audience of people who love it, too.
What I really liked creating were these State Icons. So I phased out the other items and my tiny apartment then became the place where I drew and printed my digital illustrations. I framed them at my kitchen table, which also doubled as my shipping station for online and—eventually!—retail orders.
Finding my people
I had little to no business sense and simply figured it out as I went along. At art school, I had one marketing class, and zero courses in business or entrepreneurship. I think it’s a shame those types of offerings aren’t made available for art students. Maybe if I had completed a four-year degree rather than an associate’s, those would have been options. I just don’t recall, and the school I attended is no longer in business! (But I still am!)
When things popped up that I didn’t know how to do, I leaned on the friends I’d met at art shows who had been at this whole “entrepreneur” thing longer than I had. I also read a few books, talked to my tax person, asked my lawyer friend, and dug around on the internet when no one else had the answers.
One thing I learned about running a small art business that still holds true today as it did from Day One: it's really about relationships.
A few that stick with me:
• The fan who bought her first piece from me when I was starting out, who later commissioned me to create her a logo for her brand-new small business.
• The local shop owner who took a chance on selling the work of an emerging artist (and a digital illustrator at that—in the early 2000s, that turned a lot of people off, for whatever reason).
• The couple who commissioned a portrait of their dearly departed dog so their buddy’s memory could live on forever.
These aren't just “customers” to me. They’re the reason I kept going every time my bank account was looking scary, or I didn’t get accepted to be a vendor at a show I really wanted to be part of. They helped turn my little business into something that actually mattered to a lot of people.
The rough patches
Oh, there have been many. Sometimes I wondered if I was completely nuts for thinking I could make it as an artist, financially. There was the 2008 recession, various election cycles that made people hold tight to their personal funds, and, of course, the pandemic.
There was also the digital revolution. Instagram changed everything. Suddenly everyone was an art critic and I had to try and figure out what kinds of content people actually care about (I still haven’t mastered this one). But I adapted, learned some new tricks, and kept moving forward.
Along with the cringey moments, though, there have also been some pretty incredible experiences.
Again, a few that stand out:
• Having my Babe the Blue Ox Statue illustration printed on a pint glass that was sold at the Walker Art Center’s museum shop.
• Getting into my first Renegade Craft Fair in Chicago was a highlight, and then being part of their events in several other cities for several years after that.
• Winning “Fan Favorite” in the Drawing category in 2014 at Stone Arch Bridge Festival.
• Being featured in a couple of local magazines, newspapers, and TV news programs.
• And my ultimate pinch-me experience, as a huge Minnesota Twins fan, was being accepted as one of three vendors who sold our art at Target Field in the "Creator's Corner" throughout the 2024 season (and as a result being asked to create postcards for members of the Foo Fighters, Def Leppard, Journey, and Steve Miller Band when they played at the ballpark last summer!).
It was actually at Renegade when I had my first booth visitor cry (don't fear! That was a good thing!) In that moment, I actually truly knew I was onto something with my State Icon prints.
A woman walked into my booth and almost immediately set eyes on my Big Tex Statue mini print. She told me it reminded her of going to the State Fair of Texas with her grandpa, and the memories they shared there. After that, we were both crying. She bought one to honor that memory, and I’ve never forgotten that experience.
It's wild to think that something I created could mean that much to someone. Those moments make the many struggles I’ve experienced absolutely worth it.
What's next
So here I am, 22 years into this circus, still figuring things out as I go. But I’m now armed with the lessons I’ve gleaned from blindly trying things out, asking my fellow makers, and soaking up info from the many, many small business podcast episodes I’ve listened to and online courses I’ve taken.
While reflecting on more than two decades in business, I want to tell everyone who's been part of this journey—whether you bought a piece more than a decade ago or just discovered United Goods yesterday—thank you so much for making this wild dream possible. You’re the reason I’ll keep making art and embarking on even more art-filled adventures.
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