How I Built My Online Sculpture Shop from Scratch (and What I Totally Got Wrong)

Let me take you back to the summer of 2023. The air was warm, my workshop was buzzing with sparks, and I—like many overly optimistic creatives—had just registered my domain name. That was the official start of something I had no idea would become an emotional, technical, and occasionally hilarious rollercoaster: launching my online sculpture shop.

The first thing I did? Googled “best e-commerce platform for artists.” Huge mistake. That’s like searching “best food” when you’re hungry. You’re not going to get anything useful except overwhelmed. WordPress, GoDaddy, Wix, Shopify, Squarespace—you name it, I stared at it.

The Platform Dilemma: Wix, WordPress, or… Gastronomy?

WordPress is like that super popular overachiever in school who claims to do everything but needs constant babysitting. Yes, it’s powerful. But the free version gives you next to nothing, and by the time you’ve plugged in your e-commerce module, payment systems, SEO add-ons, and whatever else your shop needs—you’ve basically built Frankenstein’s monster. With a subscription fee.

I considered Wix. It looked shiny and had cool templates. But once I started poking around, it felt like trying to do origami while wearing oven mitts. Interesting, but weirdly complicated.

Eventually, I ended up with Squarespace—drawn in by its clean design and the promise of simplicity. What I didn’t realize back then was that Squarespace has a strong niche: restaurants. Yes. Cafés, bistros, and hipster sourdough empires. But not necessarily artists who sell steel sculptures inspired by space exploration and fossilized futures.

Still, I made the best of it.

I learned to live with some of its limitations—like not being able to customize dropdown menus or set filters for things like size, theme, or price range. (Yes, that became a problem. No, I still haven’t fixed it.) But back then, I wasn’t worrying about the technical stuff too much.

I was busy dreaming.

Designing a Website That Felt Like Deep Space

I wanted my site to reflect what I make: strange steel objects that feel like relics from another dimension. So naturally, I started with a black, sci-fi-inspired design. Think NASA meets Blade Runner. It was cool. It was moody. It was… kind of depressing after a while.

Looking at those dark pages day after day felt like being trapped in a submarine. So I eventually toned it down.

But the website itself came together fast. Like every one-person operation, I went through phases of hyper-focus. For about a month, I ignored everything else and went full geek-mode on the layout, typography, product photos, you name it.

Meanwhile, I had two major exhibitions here in Germany. That worked out beautifully because I needed fresh photos of my sculptures. I ended up with a treasure trove of images—some from exhibitions, others from studio setups—and I began building detailed listings for each piece.

From tiny, spiky steel creatures to large, interactive morphing artifacts, everything found its place online. By October, the shop was more or less ready. The site looked good. I had high hopes.

A Website Without Traffic Is Just a Pretty Ghost Town

And then… nothing.

Seriously, nothing happened.

No visitors. No orders. No fan mail. Not even spam. Turns out, in 2023, simply launching a website doesn’t mean anyone will see it. Gone are the days when just showing up online got you some traffic. I completely underestimated that.

By December, I was desperate. So, I did what any panicked artist with a credit card does: I tried Google Ads.

My Google Ads Meltdown

Ah, yes. Google Ads. The digital version of setting money on fire and watching it burn in high resolution.

I thought, “This will bring me the right audience!”

Google thought, “Let’s show your sculptures to people in Ulaanbaatar at 3am!”

I spent a decent chunk of change and got a lot of clicks from the far corners of the planet. But none of them converted. Not a single sale. Another valuable (and expensive) lesson: just because your ad is shown, doesn’t mean it’s shown to the right people.

Why I Ditched Etsy (And You Might, Too)

Before all this, I had tried Etsy. But eventually, it started feeling… off. My handmade steel artifacts, crafted in the heart of Europe, were being displayed alongside mass-produced dropshipping items pretending to be art. It started feeling like I was just bait content. I wanted my work to have context, not be lost in a scroll feed of fake leather journals and “handmade” mugs from Shenzhen.

So I left Etsy, knowing full well I was walking away from its built-in audience. The problem was, I also walked away from traffic. All those potential eyes on my work? Gone.

My First Real Visitor—and a Sale from Switzerland

By January 2024, I had to face it: no one was coming unless I gave them a reason. That’s when I started engaging more seriously on Reddit. I didn’t even try to sell anything at first. I just joined conversations, posted some images, and shared behind-the-scenes stuff about the sculptures.

And wouldn’t you know it—a couple of months later, a real, honest-to-goodness order came in. From Switzerland, of all places. I’ll save the full story for my next post, but let’s just say: I celebrated like I won the Nobel Prize for Decorative Steel Objects.

Where I’m At Now

I’m still figuring it out. I’m still learning how to balance the making with the marketing. But if you’re a creative person thinking of selling your work online, maybe this little tale of stumbles, wrong turns, and small wins will help you feel less alone.

These were my first baby steps in the wild world of creative e-commerce. They were clumsy, occasionally expensive, but very real. And most importantly—they were mine.

If you’ve been through something similar, or are thinking of taking your first steps, I’d love to hear from you. Share your experience in the comments below. And if you want to follow along with my next misadventures (and maybe pick up some sculpture inspo along the way), hit that subscribe button.

See you in the next post. Spoiler alert: it involves a Swiss customer, a complicated shipping box, and a lot of bubble wrap.

—Peter Hauerland