Part of an ongoing series highlighting the amazing people in the Portland creative community.

When Isaac Watson left his day job last April, he looked to friends and strangers to keep his passion project in check. Each week on Twitter, he compared the number of hours he worked with those billed, ending with a brief summary of how he felt. While simple in practice, lifting the veil in the public domain forced Isaac to both confront the timeliness of his project’s goals and his need to bill more time so he could survive at home. He was, in effect, tapping into his ambidextrous brain. By intertwining creativity and analysis, Isaac has found his sweet spot between project management and community organizing. And today, he’s burning the same midnight oil and has almost completed that same passion project, Maker’s Nation.

We picked Isaac for his tweet from our Liz Forkin Bohannon talk.

You attended Portland State University’s renowned Graphic Design program from 2004 to 2008. How do you reflect upon your experience?

I didn’t actually graduate! In fact, I ran screaming from graphic design. The moment came when I was preparing for my portfolio review. I had been going to school off-and-on and wasn’t following a typical track. Forcing myself to be creative day-in and day-out was not something I wanted to do. And yet, I still had this great appreciation for design and marketing.

And so, it got to a point where I said to myself, “Portfolio review or bust!” And I said, “Bust.”

Six months later in 2008, you started Focal Length Designs. Did you have any sense the project was on your horizon?

No, not at all. It was my outlet for creativity as a hobby business. I could do it on the side when I had the time and motivation outside of my full-time retail job. I was making the work and doing a bit of graphic design for the marketing materials. To be fair, I didn’t see Focal Length as design work so much as making, and that’s where it appealed to me.

As your first jump as a professional in the creative world, what are some lessons you learned?

To be honest, I didn’t know what I was doing from a business standpoint. That particular “Oh crap!” moment is what fueled the rest of my career development. A lot of my dilemmas included not knowing how to price my work, how to market to people who were not my friends, and how to get my business into the community and be known. And then balancing my ability to produce creative work versus it being 30 degrees in my parents’ shop, hammering away at aluminum bracelets, not having very much fun, but knowing I had a show the next day.

I also learned to not do it all myself. My best decisions were hiring an assistant for three or four months to help prepare for a show, and then hiring a professional photographer to take images of my work. Those were huge burdens I was able to pass off, and it was well worth it. Also, I dove into my community, embracing advice trading and mentorship. As I started selling my work on Etsy, I realized there were other small business owners like myself who were trying to do something creative for a living and make a go of it.

You mentioned being involved with Etsy. It would seem, then, that was a direct connection to “I Heart Art Portland,” the community project you founded?

Absolutely! In 2009, Etsy was interested in jumpstarting community programs to help local Etsy sellers, and Portland was the prime place to do it. They partnered with PNCA and the Craft Museum and decided they wanted to start a professional development program. I was involved with a group of nine other people who volunteered to put “I Heart Art Portland” together. And it was great! For almost three years, we hosted workshops and networking events.

Also during this time, you returned to an academic community by starting work at PNCA. How did that come about?

I began working at PNCA because of the “I Heart Art” project. As collaborative partners in the program, I worked with PNCA pretty closely. One month, they had an opening in their Communications Department and I was anxious to stop working at Kinko’s. It was a perfect segue into marketing work.

Sounds like you were turning connections into professional opportunities. Let’s talk about Maker’s Nation, then. When did you decide you wanted to start a new venture?

We knew that our third year of the “I Heart Art” project was going to be our last because of a lack of funding. I thought to myself, “How can we return this program to something that is sustainable?” Because when it came down to it, the program was very successful for what we were doing. We had a lot of people attending our workshops, and we even experimented with speed-dating networking events that were very popular.

Maker’s Nation incorporated in March 2012 and we formed our board. It was very slow going at first, partially because I was working full-time (in PNCA’s Communication Department) and as a board we were still wrapping our heads around what we wanted to focus on. We knew we wanted to be broader in scope and not just focus on Portland but to help makers across the country. We also knew that education was a primary component of what we were doing. I didn’t actually intend to start Maker’s Nation as a non-profit, but the more I looked at keeping prices affordable for up-and-coming makers and being able to rely on community support — like philanthropy — the more I realized a non-profit was the way to go. So over the next year and a half, with a lot of planning and rethinking and planning and thinking some more, we’re finally kicking off in 2014.

But you still had your day job. When did you know it was right to walk away?

There were number of factors that aligned magically — well, not magically — but aligned at the same time that allowed me to make a decision. One, I bought my house and completely changed my monthly financial situation for the better. Two, I was at a turning point where I knew I needed to spend more time with Maker’s Nation but I did not have the capacity to do so outside of my job. So I gave myself an ultimatum — I needed to dive into it or I needed to walk away and let it go. And I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.

Why give yourself the ultimatum?

I knew if I didn’t, I would continue to waffle. My passion wouldn’t be my primary focus and I would just drag the project out further. If I didn’t do anything different, Maker’s Nation would blow up in my face.

I imagine you could have left and started Maker’s Nation in a different city, such as San Francisco or Seattle. Why did you choose to stay in Portland?

I’m a native, for one. And I kept coming back to the idea that if I were to go somewhere else, I would have to start from scratch. Portland has what I call the “Portland bubble.” It’s why everyone is drawn to Portland, including Portlandia — that creative, collaborative atmosphere that makes it pretty easy to start something like Maker’s Nation. And yet, while we’ll be based here in town, we are hoping very quickly to expand into other cities and start training. So while I try not to focus too much on Portland, it does have that magic, pixy dust of creative awesomeness.

Is it important for other Portlanders to burst from that Portland “bubble”?

Yes! One thing that I’ve been really conscious of is to realize that what makers are doing here can be replicated elsewhere. That Portlanders are not relying on the bubble to make us successful and that maybe the petri dish of all the components that go into making the bubble can be found in other cities. I’m fascinated by other creative cities that have a maker history with a blue-collar style, like Pittsburg, Raleigh, or Asheville. These places have really interesting, creative backgrounds but maybe the communities themselves are a little more underserved. Those are the types of places that are most like Portland that would also be easy for us to go into and start hosting programs and to be a real benefit to the people that live there.

There’s a statement on the Maker’s Nation website that reads, “Find your people the old-fashioned way. Better your business the 21st-century way.” How does balancing the old and new resonate with you?

Makers are constantly self-isolating. If you’re trying to do it all yourself, you’re either in your studio, behind your computer or in your workshop. You could also be taking the photos, writing your copy or building your own website. Even though we are increasingly interconnected through the Internet, we have devalued the importance of coming face-to-face and spending time in a social manner with other people. And so “finding your people the old-fashioned way” means finding an event or a structured program where you can meet, learn and have a shared experience with others.

“Better your business the 21st century way” means taking a modern approach to what you’re doing. Whether it’s jumping on the crowdfunding train, focusing on an online-only business or using the latest technology or channels to sell and market your work, these are skills I often find makers lacking. By offering education, hopefully Maker’s Nation can attempt to bring makers as a whole up together and offer tools for being better business people in the 21st century.

On the heels of starting Maker’s Nation, is there any advice you would give to your younger self?

Think bigger! I left school very frustrated while trying to find myself and I think I was limiting myself to what was immediately in front of me. I think taking the leap into starting the jewelry business was probably the first step into thinking bigger. I often find my ideas tend to be much more ambitious than I can actually execute, but I like it that way because it keeps my mind open to different things and it helps me scheme, plan and think broader than what’s right in front of my face.

That sounds similar to a line I’ve seen on your website and your Twitter biography, “Pay attention, give a shit.”

Those are Stefan Sagmeister’s words and they’ve always resonated with me. One of my biggest frustrations in observing culture is how more and more people are taking the time to notice their surroundings. It’s one thing to complain, or to whine, or to demand for change — whether it be in politics or economics. But ultimately, it’s important to put actions behind your words. “Giving a shit” for me is a mantra that suggests I have opinions, feelings, and goals, and that I can do something about them.

Does such a philosophy relate to being a maker?

Yes, I think it does. I think the most successful makers are the ones who are not just paying attention to what they’re doing, but to how the outside world influences [their creativity] and to care enough about what they’re doing to make it amazing.

Do you consider yourself a maker?

My quick definition is someone who is an independent entrepreneur. Or somebody who is doing something creative for a living on their own or with a small group of people.

So in my own way, yes, I’m a maker.

Interview by Sean Danaher and photos by Ashley Forrette — also available on our Flickr page.