Sure! I was studying radiography at university and wanted to make X-ray markers. For context, X-ray markers indicate the left or right sides of the body and include the radiographer's initials.
I saw some markers made from resin, got curious, and asked a friend to show me how to work with it. I fell in love with the process, bought all the supplies from AliExpress, and started making them.
I was already doing digital art on Instagram then, so I posted a picture of something I made, and someone asked if they could buy it. From there, more people started asking, and it just grew organically. Then, someone sent me an acrylic resin called Jesmonite to try. That's when I fell in love. I could finally get the colours I wanted and found my style. And yeah, it went from there.
Initially, my style was very goth and creepy—I made things like coffin and skull ashtrays, which matched my personal style, including my skull tattoos.
I hand-drew my very first logo, a coffin with "Kassy King Art" written on it, along with a star and moon. But as the business evolved, I experimented with different branding, like a checkered pattern and a smiley face I made in Canva.
Eventually, I felt that my DIY branding wasn’t professional enough for the larger markets I was attending. That’s when I hired a local designer for a branding overhaul. We had an intensive day working on it, and by 11 PM, we had our final product.
I felt a disconnect between my online presence and in-person events. Every time I had an event, I was creating something new—business cards, magnets, or stamps—so my branding wasn’t cohesive. You could not see me at one event and then another and recognise that I'm the same person.
So, I wanted something cohesive. I wanted everything, from my online presence to my in-person events and even my packaging, to be cohesive. I wanted people to recognise my brand no matter how they interacted with it, so I invested in stickers, tissue paper, and paper tape to create that cohesive experience.
Absolutely, I ended up with a logo, sub-logo, cohesive colours, and branding assets like stickers and tissue paper. I also got a PDF with all my colours and hex codes, so everything I made in Canva looked consistent and on-brand.
They weren't just "Oh, this is cute." anymore. They all resonated and looked the same. It finally felt like my brand had a clear identity I could carry across all platforms and interactions. I felt like a real business once it was all done.
It’s funny because we started that intensive day thinking I wanted pink but after going through my Pinterest boards and talking it out, I realised it was lilac that I connected with. It was a huge moment of clarity for me.
I'm very lucky to be based in Newcastle. The community here is incredible, especially in the arts. I believe it’s a big part of the reason I got the opportunity to be a part of so many things, such as prestigious markers such as Olive Tree Markets, etc. My partner is a tattooist, so I connected with many people interested in art.
The support I received from the local community was huge. It really pushed me to keep going, even when I doubted myself.
I said, yes, a lot. I was just happy to be a part of anything. My retail and customer service background made a big difference in going to markets and talking to people.
When it comes to small businesses, you can have all the most beautiful branding in the world, but people buy from the person, not just the product.
So, I started sharing more of myself online, and I think that authenticity resonated with people. I would have people say, “It’s so refreshing. You’re honest”. There was no plan to it all; I was just myself, and that honesty connected with others.
Definitely! The workshops came from people constantly asking me to show them how to do things. As controversial as it sounds, I realised I didn’t owe my knowledge to anyone for free, so I started hosting paid workshops.
The first one went really well, thanks partly to my experience working at Apple, where I learned how to train people. But I made some business mistakes, like partnering with a company that ended up making more money than me off my workshops (my fault, not theirs!)
I also found that workshops took up a lot of time. Creating, promoting, and managing expectations was a lot to handle alongside everything else. As much as I enjoyed them, I had to choose what I loved most: attending markets. Eventually, I couldn’t juggle everything, especially since I was also working three days a week at my job.
It’s so easy to think, “Yeah, I know something I can teach people.” But all the extra things you must do to get people to show up is where it gets tricky.
It started with a social group at a local hospital. They had this initiative where they put money aside from their weekly wages to do something social together. They wanted a workshop for 30 people, and before I did that, I thought, "I better run a workshop." That really kicked me into gear. I’d been talking about it, but it just became a whole other beast.
Most collaborations came from friendships I’d already established. That’s one of the coolest parts of my business - the friendships I’ve made and maintained. So, a lot of them came from a place of "I love your work, you love my work, let's work together."
As a small business, I believe in community over competition. It doesn’t mean sharing all your secrets; it’s about wanting to see others succeed.
I was never interested in collaborations purely for gaining followers or money. I focused on working with people and brands I genuinely liked, and it was fun. For example, I collaborated with a tattooist who works with my partner and other brands, like an earring brand. They’d give me earrings, I’d take photos wearing them, and we’d promote each other.
It was often about celebrating each other’s art and asking, "How can we grow together?."
Exactly. There are no guarantees with collaborations either. I often found people whose work I loved, and it was about finding ways to work together. I was always trying to share my audience with others.
I feel lucky to have grown my Instagram following, though I don’t know why it happened. But I wanted to share that with my friends, knowing how much it mattered to them. It didn’t matter as much to me, but I wasn’t naïve that I had an audience and wanted to help others by sharing it.
Absolutely. When you do those things, you find your people, whether friends or your audience. That's probably why I have grown to the point that I did. It's because I didn't take it too seriously. I looked at analytics and kept up to date with what was happening, but I never subscribed to it.
I’d post and think, “What do I have to lose? I started with nothing.
I had friends who were losing sleep over not growing followers, and I thought, "That’s crazy." There’s so much more to life. Connecting with people is key.
People come to you because they resonate with you, not because of some forced algorithm strategy.
Peppermint reached out to me and said they loved my work and wanted to feature me. Of course, I said yes! Swell was similar. They heard about me through word-of-mouth, maybe from someone who met me at a market and decided to feature my work.
Hunter, though, was a paid feature. Most people don’t know that. It looks like a local news story, but you have to pay to be part of it. I chose that route when I was trying to grow my workshops and wanted to reach local people specifically. It was a targeted approach—at one point, my biggest following was from Tehran, which wasn’t helpful for my workshops. So, I paid about $750 for an ad in Hunter and I provided the photos.
Exactly, and the Hunter audience was perfect for what I needed. They sent me all the details about their readers (like age, gender, and interests) and it matched who I was trying to reach. I did get some attendees from that article, so it was worth it.
I hadn’t stopped to think about it. I started selling things accidentally, saying yes to opportunities, and suddenly, I wondered, "Is this what I want?" I was burnt out, working seven days a week, and as a creative, your brain never switches off. I realised I had done everything I could, but the cost-of-living crisis made it hard. I had to double or triple my market appearances just to make the same money I used to make in one market alone.
When I sat down and looked at the numbers, I was surprised. I had a 25% profit margin every year, which is huge (most businesses don’t even break even in their first three years!). But even with that profit, it was so much work. I’d need to hire a coach to make it my full-time gig because I’d reached my limit. My studio was in my home, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted someone in my personal space.
The whole business started as an accident, and producing in such high volumes took away my love for it. I wanted to try new things but I didn’t have time because everything I made had to be profitable to sustain my living.
I went to university so I wouldn’t have to hustle anymore, but here I was, doing the same thing. I asked myself, "Is this really what I want?
The catalyst was my cat, Potato, going viral. One video got 35 million views on TikTok and over 40 million on Instagram. With that virality came comments. Most comments were positive, but some were awful. People accused me of abusing my cat, and there was even a thread where people told each other to "unalive" themselves. It was insane.
It made me question everything. You spend so much time trying to go viral, but do you want that? Do you want millions of people commenting on your life? It’s easy to say, "Don’t read the comments," but when you go viral, it’s like a train wreck—you can’t look away. I had to ask myself if I could handle that level of attention.
Ironically, my closing-down reel also went viral and hit 1.5 million views. My small business friends were freaking out, saying, "You can’t delete a reel with 1.5 million views!" But I realised that I didn’t want that kind of attention. You can't control it once it’s out there, so I deleted it, and my friends thought I was crazy.
Besides being exhausted, I seriously considered if this was what I wanted for my life. Could I make enough money for this to be my full-time job in this economy? Did I want to? I hadn’t planned for this business to happen—it was all just me saying yes to things. But three years later, I had a profitable business I didn’t even mean to create.
The cost-of-living crisis played a big part in my decision. I was lucky to still be making money, but every conversation became about how to make more, and the stress was overwhelming. When I thought about what I wanted my life to look like, I realised I loved my job as a medical radiation scientist, which I went to university for. But I hadn’t given it the attention it deserved because I focused on the business.
I don’t regret running the business for a second, but I haven’t made a single Jesmonite piece since I closed. I’ve been making other art and redecorating my home instead. It was a lot to process, but I’m happy with my decision.
Talking it through with my family and friends helped a lot. They were very supportive, and when I made the decision, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. That’s when I knew it was the right thing to do.
I had a lot of people reach out to say, "A, I can’t believe you’re doing it, and B, thank you so much for being brave enough to do it!" I felt I’d been flogging a dead horse by continuing something that didn’t bring me joy or excitement. I was burnt out, and the thought of creating content was daunting. It was clear I needed to step away.
Exactly. I now handle social media for my medical imaging company. It’s a love-hate relationship, but I enjoy it because it’s not my main focus at work. It takes the pressure off.
Sharing my art authentically was challenging, especially with the pressure to monetise. I once had someone call a piece of mine that was a hypothermic blanket “leftover lasagna,” but I didn’t let it bother me.
The pressure to sell was intense, which reduced my enjoyment of creating, so I’m glad I stepped away from it all.
Mentally, I’m a thousand times better. I can relax. My mental health has improved significantly, and I’ve reclaimed my relationships with friends and family. I now have the freedom to pursue creative projects without the pressure to post or sell.
I’ve learned that I need to make time for creativity. I’m much happier and have even been invited to speak on panels and at events I wouldn’t have had time for before. I don’t regret my decision at all.
Don’t let the noise of social media stop you from sharing what you want. Authenticity is key. Don’t chase the algorithm; post what you like, and you’ll find your audience. Be yourself. No one can replicate your unique personality.
I’m currently redecorating my house on a budget and so I’m doing a lot of upcycling. You can find me at Kassy King Designs on Instagram or TikTok.
I also share videos of my cat, Potato the Persian, on TikTok and Instagram too.
October 9, 2024