Jumping Through Hoops

Let’s imagine a day in the life of an artist, a painter in this case. She’s just starting a new canvas, maybe a series of them, as an idea has been nagging at her for a while and she can almost visualise how it’ll look. It’s not crystal clear in her mind, but clear enough that she is compelled to escape to her studio area, close the door, put music on, take a deep breath and begin.

Or perhaps another artist who works “pleinair”, going out on location with a light but sturdy collapsible tripod and a backpack full of paper, sketching materials, watercolour pads and brushes. He finds a scene that speaks to him, gets everything setup, then with the music of nature around him he begins to capture what he sees and feels.

This is how most of us imagine artists. Working away in their studios or out in the sunshine, lost in their solitary worlds as they create masterpieces. There’s a whole other side to art, however, than the act of creation.

You see, if we paint at larger sizes than A4 paper sheets (and large paintings have incredible presence!) we run eventually into a very real problem. Storage space. There is never enough. One day we find that our walls are full, our shelves are overflowing, there’s no more room under the bed.

How to resolve this? Well, we can paint over old work with something new, with only the rippled texture of old covered brushstrokes to tell the tale of a bygone creation. We can give our art to family and friends, at least until they’re sick of us and their walls are full, whichever comes first. We can even throw paintings away. I know of one artist who had a ceremonial bonfire (shown on Instagram) into which went most of her previous year’s art.

Of course, we could sell our art. It only makes sense. It’s an expensive pursuit after all - good art supplies are quite costly. It’s not just that though. What if our art resonates with someone so deeply that they’ll part with their hard-earned cash in a cost of living crisis, just in order to have the thing we created on their wall? When that happens it’s the most magical and deeply moving feeling, especially on the rare occasion we get to meet the buyer. We’re truly making the world a better place.

But how does a painter make that happen? Especially if they’re self-taught, starting out as a complete unknown, with no connections in the art world?

Well, the painter must embrace the business side of the art world. They must learn to jump through hoops.

Getting art shown at galleries, that’s the traditional idea, though in truth it hasn’t been around all that long as a concept. Go back a few hundred years and most artists were supported by rich patrons, such as a wealthy art-lover or a church. Such patrons seem few and far between now, sadly. It’s galleries we have now, and they are a tricky proposition.

It’s hard to get noticed by a gallery to begin with. Going to openings, chatting with the curators, striking up friendships, commenting on their Instagram posts. Starting out with small exhibitions in cafes, hiring stalls at weekend markets. Then eventually the invitation comes from a gallery, and our artist crack a bottle of bubbly as she books her first real exhibition!

It’s an incredibly exciting thing to have happen, for the first time. All our artist’s friends congratulate her, it’s like she’s made it! For her first ever exhibition, however, it’s likely to be a lower-ranked gallery, perhaps one that’s just starting out, or even worse, a gallery that makes its income by charging artists hefty fees for the privilege of having their work shown.

The opening night comes and goes. Maybe she’s lucky and people actually come along, even better if there’s a red dot or two, which is far from guaranteed. She soon realises it’s the first and lowest rung on a long steep ladder, of building her resume of exhibitions, of working her way from lesser known galleries and art shows up to more reputable ones, of slowly gaining a reputation and a following who’ll come to her openings, of networking and building relationships, and hopefully making it to a premium gallery one day where she might finally be able to sell her art to serious collectors and earn enough to go full time…

Look, it’s possible. It has to be, as some artists do make it. But very difficult. Our art has to stand out from the crowd, we must have talent, but we must also appeal to buyers. Our art has to look good on people’s living room walls, it must have commercial appeal.

I want to stop here and ask a question. What does all this talk of resumes, of networking, of making art that people want on their walls, of climbing a long and difficult ladder that will likely take decades … what does it have to do with making art?

Obviously, nothing. It’s a whole different set of skills. It’s whether the artist can also be a business person, skilled at building relationships and marketing themselves.

At this point, the success of an artist isn’t dependent on the quality of their art. It’s dependent on their personality and appearance. An artist who is attractive, outgoing, personable and eloquent, and who loves the spotlight, will do far, far better than a shy retiring artist who’s embarrassed to promote themselves and looks nothing special.

So okay, perhaps the gallery game isn’t for everyone. There’s online galleries, right? There’s social media - Instagram, Facebook and however many others there are now. Even Substack! There’s no ladder to climb with social media. No curators acting as self-appointed gatekeepers, deciding which artists to promote and which to reject. Anyone could make it.

Anyone … as long as they post constantly, as long as they make reels, preferably showing them dabbing with a brush and sipping tea in paint-spattered clothes, dancing to music, doing slow turn-around reveals of finished masterpieces. As long as they continually upload work to the online galleries to game the algorithm and be highly visible - those places are crowded with artists trying to sell, so it’s hard to be noticed. As long as they put themselves out there.

Not everyone can do this. It takes a significant investment of time and energy, and again, an outgoing personality that is comfortable putting yourself out there for everyone to see.

Build an email list - that’s another strategy. Tell everybody you meet about your art, get them to subscribe and tell their friends, build relationships and eventually collectors will find you … as if that’s an easy thing! For some people it is.

I don’t have answers right now, I wish I did. Only questions.

I’m writing this in the lieu of two consecutive exhibitions, one of which was quite spectacular, and right now I simply can’t pick up a brush - I haven’t for a month. The stress and effort of the shows has taken away my creative spark completely. It’s not a pleasant place to be.

I’m asking questions of myself right now. Perhaps the business side of the art world is simply not for me? As pleasant as it is to sell the occasional painting, and it really is a beautiful feeling, perhaps I don’t need it? Perhaps I should just paint for its own sake, on a surface such as paper, that won’t challenge my storage space, and not worry about pursuing income from my creative passion? It would be a lot purer that way.

But on the other hand, if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to connect with people. Nobody would share the joy I feel in an artwork that somehow captures a magic I can’t explain. My voice, such as it is, would be lost. That’s where I’m at right now.

What do you think of it all? It doesn’t matter if you’re an artist or not, I’d love to hear your thoughts.