Question 10: "Do you have your work in galleries?"

If you or someone you know is an aspiring full time artist, one really important question that needs an answer is this: Do you have your work in galleries? And then the follow up question, “How do you find the right galleries?”

When I was still a novice at marketing my own artwork, I had absolutely no idea there is actually etiquette involved with getting my work into an art gallery and in the beginning, I unknowingly broke all the rules. I first thought of cool cities with a decent art scene, and then got onto Google and basically emailed every art gallery on the list. My email included photos and my resume.

After well over a hundred emails (all unanswered by the way), I learned that I needed some help and eventually received the advice I needed. Here is that advice:

1) Think of the cities most visited by tourists or art seekers.

2) Google the art galleries on your list and look at every gallery website with this in mind: “Would my work fit well in this gallery? If say, you do minimalist abstract work and the gallery is in Cody, Wyoming and carries all cowboy portraits, uh…pass that one up”. This is really important. You’ll make yourself look like a fool if you don’t do your research. Contact only galleries in which you work would look “at home” in.

“…Would my work fit into this gallery?”

I regularly get people emailing me asking if they can get into my gallery. Had they actually done their homework, they’d see that I do not have a “gallery” at all per se. I have an open art studio (a place where artwork is produced and sold by the artist). Had the inquirer taken just a moment to look at my website, they’d realize this. When an artist doesn’t do proper research, it just makes them look ridiculous. Trust me…this is probably why I received no responses from all the art galleries I emailed back in the day.

3) Ideally, next, you need to take a road trip and actually VISIT the art galleries in one of the towns you’ve selected. Just pick one town/city and work on that one first. You’re not going to be able to fill twenty art galleries with your work, so don’t bother covering the entire country. Look at one city at a time. When you’re visiting, greet the curator/gallery owner and just browse through, taking your time looking at the artwork. At this point, imagine you’re a perspective art buyer, so pay close attention to the vibe you pick up entering and wondering around. Were you completely ignored when you entered? Not good. Are you followed around and hounded? Not good. I wouldn’t bother pursuing the gallery if they don’t treat visitors with respect. But then if all goes well, ask the person at the desk if you could make an appointment to talk to the manager and get info on their policy regarding the addition of new artists. Asking for an appointment immediately communicates that you respect their time. Respect is good. Then when you meet with the owner/manager, ask them what the process is and how you might be considered as one of the artists they represent. Do NOT walk in with your paintings under your arms. Do NOT scroll through the photos on your phone to wow them. Trust me. They have a policy in place. Find out what that policy is and follow it. Again, that shows respect AND it actually gets your work considered.

I had a gallery owner friend in Asheville years ago, and she said she recieved emails from artists wanting gallery representation every day, literally over a hundred emails a week. She said she just deletes them all. That is because there was an intake policy in place (actually stated on her gallery website) and that the policy was not followed. Do you homework.

Follow this advice, and that will at least help. And it will definitely mean you won’t have to email hundreds of art galleries like I did initially. Be smart.

Question 2: "How long have you been selling your work professionally?"

When you're training to be an artist, whether that's informal training (on your own or as part of a group) or more formal training (i.e. art school), there are things you need to find out in order to best plan your route from Point A (art as a hobby) to Point B (art as a career). I've come up with twelve questions to start with. There are probably many more questions but these are a few I thought of that are meant to at least get you going in the right direction. 

If you've been reading these posts, you know I've answered the first of twelve questions in my last post. Here, we tackle question 2: "How long have you been selling your work professionally?"

The answer to this question can be stuck in the same mental box as the answer to the first question. The answer to the first question I proposed will give you an idea of how long this person has been doing art. The answer to this second question will tell you how long they've been SELLING art. Both questions are background questions. They are meant to orient you as the interviewer to the artist you're speaking to so you know how to weigh what they will share as they answer the rest of the questions. I don't mean this as a rude or "judgemental" exercise. I just mean that if someone has been marketing and selling their work for years, they will probably know more about how to market and sell artwork than someone doing it for eight months. Again, this is just to give you a way to know which answers (when you get conflicting answers from different artists) should be given more weight. That's all. 

“…if I was depending entirely on the income from selling my paintings in galleries, I’d be a starving artist”

Personally, I've been selling my artwork for about 25 years now. I started selling in a gallery in Orlando, Florida (where I was living at the time) and it was a heady thing realizing people would actually part with their money in order to purchase one of my paintings. It was awesome. In the beginning, my questions were all about how to get into another gallery. I'll talk more about that later, but I've learned that if I was depending entirely on the income I get from selling my paintings in galleries, I'd be a starving artist. Galleries are helpful because they give you "vacation money" (extra funds you can just look at as fun money) but there are other outlets to tap into for more of a steady income stream. Again, more on that in answer to a later question. For now, just know that getting into a gallery was where I started, and the day I was told they wanted to represent me at the gallery was truly an amazing and exciting day. That's a good start but...it was not the end. More on that to come.

"How do you Price Your Work?"

I remember when I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist and so, like a lot of would-be artists, I went to art school. They taught us about art history, how to create a dynamic composition, color theory and pretty much everything an artist needs to go out and create a masterpiece. “Pretty much everything” is the key phrase here. The one thing they never mentioned was how to price and sell our artwork. I totally understand that you can’t cover EVERYTHING an artist needs to know in an art school but uh…that little detail seems kind of important.

Over the years, I’ve worked with artists that set their prices based on different criteria. I’ve worked with one artist that set a price of $500,000 on some of his pieces. To him, that’s what it was worth. Then he’d tell people not to be intimidated by the price on the tag, that he’d work with them. He’d follow them out of the studio asking “What do YOU want to pay for it?” I am not making this up. I didn’t see him sell many paintings by the way, which is too bad because I thought he was an excellent artist. He just was never told how to price a painting. His prices were completely subjective.

I don’t price my work that way. I was taught in the beginning of my art career to price by the size; by the square inches of the piece. This way, the only subjective point is at the very beginning — where you start. The first piece I finished for sale in my very first studio in Asheville was at $2.25 per square inch, and I was really excited because my paintings started selling. Then they were selling TOO fast. I couldn’t keep up with it so…I raised the prices to $2.50 per square inch and that slowed sales down just enough. A year later, I had to raise prices to $2.75. I’m now at $3.35 and inching toward $3.50.

The important thing to note is that the ONLY time I arbitrarily set my prices was at the very beginning. But even then, I looked around at what other artists were charging for their work so I had SOME idea of the ballpark to be in. Since then, sales entirely set the price. If sales slow, I keep prices steady, and I’m not above lowering the rate. When, over some months, I see that I’m selling faster than I can paint them, I bump everything up slightly. Understand, I am not bumping prices so I can make more money. I’m bumping prices because a professional artist HAS to have paintings on their wall that are for sale. I pay a premium on studio rent, and if I have empty walls, you might think that’s a good thing because I’m selling my work. But empty walls is ultimately disastrous to an artist’s career. New studio visitors will not consider buying a piece of art that is not there. I HAVE to have a studio full of paintings in order to make a living in this profession. And that means I simply let the rate of sales dictate the price.

Pricing this way is also the easiest way to defend my price to someone who questions why the heck I think this or that piece is worth the number I have on the tag. But really, I DON’T “think” that piece is worth anything in particular. My sales are what set the price on the tag. You can argue with me, but you can’t argue with sales.

So if today, I were to complete a painting that has a price of $500,000, the size would be around 25’ x 42’. Dear reader, if you by chance have a wall that is crying out for a 25’ x 42’ painting (and a 500K budget), please contact me today! Short of that, I will keep painting sizes that I can sell. :)

"How do you know you're done with a painting?"

I love the balance between oil painting (a very introvertive exercise) and talking to various people that wander into my Asheville studio (a very extroversive exercise). I’m constantly switching between my introvert and extrovert skill sets. Though it can be exhausting sometimes, it feels very healthy because I’ve found that when I’m pushed and stretched, I grow. One of the ways I grow is by thinking through the questions I’m constantly asked. Most of the questions are the same “What am I looking at?”, “How do you do this?” ,“What’s the shiny finish coat on these”, “Are these photos?”. But now and then, I get a questions out of left field and THAT is invigorating! Those questions make me really think.

“…my goals is that the eyes of EVERY viewer is lead around the piece along exactly the same pathway.”

One question I got recently from some really cool folks from Ohio was “how do you know when I painting is done?” THAT is a really great question! So for any other people interested, here’s my answer:

My paintings are created in many, many steps. They each take about a month to complete, longer if they’re large. The oil paint is applied to a many-layered textured background that I’ve covered with metallic leaf (ultra-thin sheets of metal). THEN I begin colorizing the metal surface with very, very thin layers of paint. Each layer of paint deepens and intensifies the color. Each painting may get at least ten layers of paint, sometimes more.

I keep applying the paint until two things happen:

1) The color is saturated enough. I want the colors to be intense in most cases, so I just keep applying the paint until I get the intensity I’m looking for. Every layer I apply intensifies the color of the painting by about 10%.

2) The values are correct. This means that there are areas that are VERY dark and areas that are VERY light. The very light areas get very little paint. The dark areas get many layers. Value is important, because value is what leads the eye around the piece. I always want to make it very easy to find the focal point of the piece (the first thing you stare at) and then my goals is that the eyes of EVERY viewer is lead around the piece along exactly the same pathway.

I would love to say that when these two points are addressed, then I know the painting is done. But honestly, I usually get a second opinion. When my wife Joy (also an artist) concurs that it’s done, THEN it’s done. Getting the knowledgeable input of another artist can be humbling. I like to think I know exactly what I’m doing, but that’s a fantasy. I really need the input of other people. That’s the great thing about working with other artists. That’s why I love having my primary studio in Asheville (with over 220 other artists).

So basically, it takes skill you’ve developed over time and humility (that is constantly developing) to really be able to tell when a painting is “done”.

New Art Gallery on the West Coast

Downtown Pleasanton, California

What a weird, unpredictable couple of weeks! I usually do not like unpredictable at all. I like planing my life as best I can. I know that’s impossible sometimes, but still…I try. But I’m so thankful that “unpredictable” isn’t always a scary thing! Let me back up and explain.

A couple weeks ago, the phone rang and I almost didn’t answer it. I totally assumed it was a robocall. Instead, it was a real live, breathing human! It turns out this guy is an artist who'd visited my studio, and in the course of our conversation, he said I should get into a gallery on the west coast; that he sells very well in a few galleries there. I explained that it’s a very difficult thing to find a gallery that fits you well when you live across the country. For example, a local gallery owner friend of mine once told me that she usually gets over a hundred artist requests for gallery representation in her email every week. She just deletes them without even reading them.

So, it turns out this complete stranger said he’d try to hook me up with a gallery he’s rep’d by in Pleasanton, California (in the Bay Area). I mean, who does that? A week later, I got a phone call from the gallery owner who had spent time looking over my website and studying my technique and…he was really interested. After he had a discussion with the gallery manager about what he thought, they sent me a contract for representation. And…I signed it. This is exciting to me for several reasons:

1) I’d love to expand my reach to the west coast.

2) I’d love a tax deductible reason to visit the west coast.

3) I was asked if I could come up with several “vineyard” themed pieces. This TOTALLY excites me. I love the way the rows of grape vines add a geometrical element to a natural landscape. A vineyard is beautiful and peaceful. This theme totally fits what I love to be painting. I can even sell the pieces in my Asheville studio (we have vineyards here too — heck, they’re kind of ubiquitous, you know?)

“…I’d love a tax deductible reason to visit the west coast.”

4) What the gallery has asked for is one large original piece and several prints. So, because of this, I’m going to venture into the world of metal prints. These are a relatively new technique of dye sublimation on a metal surface, creating awesome colors and really emphasizing contrast. I like that, because my paintings are painted on a metal surface. The reason I’ve done very, very few prints before is that compared to an original, the print on paper or canvas is just flat, dead looking. These metal prints glow. I’m excited to try them out and see how it goes. This could open up a lower price point possibility for someone that wants one of my paintings but can’t swing the price of an original.

So, I guess the moral of this story is: When the phone rings, (unless it says “United States” or “Unknown Caller”, answer the phone! You never know who’s on the other end.

"Art from the Heart" vs "Commissioned Art"

There are really so few things that baffle and (to be honest) frustrate me as an artist. I am by nature a very “even keel” type of person, so when something stands out as “irritating”, it’s kind of a big deal for me. See, I regularly come across people that have a very set view of who and what an artist is (even before they meet me). No one likes to be pre-judged and I guess I’m no exception.

See, every now and then, I have people visit my studio and I can tell they like my work. For instance, they may hang out for fifteen to twenty minutes browsing slowly, leave and have lunch, then come back and browse even more slowly. That is usually a pretty good sign someone is genuinely interested in my work. Most of the time, behavior like this eventually results in a sale of one of my paintings or the commissioning of something specific. But every now and then, the couple at this point will look pained. Interested but pained. “Do you have all your work displayed or do you have something else in storage?” they’ll ask. I explain that basically, I don’t have storage. If I need to store paintings, my prices are too high. They smile, and then I explain that if they like something but it’s the wrong size, I can repaint it the right size for them. “No, we’re looking for a painting that is 36 x 48, probably a summer scene but you don’t really have anything that will work for our space”. “Well,” I explain, “if you have a photo you’d like me to use, or if you can give me an idea of something specific that you’d like to see, you can commission a painting based on that idea and size. I don’t charge any more for commissions, and I guarantee your satisfaction with what I paint and I do free shipping as a thank you.”

But then…

“Oh, we would rather just check in whenever we’re back in Asheville and see what you have available. We don’t want to dictate to the artist what they paint. We’d much rather have something that comes from your heart, not ours”.

“…my heart and joy are in every single painting I’ve ever painted.”

You may well think “Oh, that’s so sensitive! What a kind person that is!” Yes, probably. But that drives me crazy. It rattles me because that assumes that the art that comes from my own head will be of higher quality or have “more life and energy” in it than if it comes from the heart of the client. To be clear, the idea behind all the commissions I’ve ever done have come from my clients. But the heart and energy in the piece is from me. I don’t care at all where the idea comes from. I love to paint. May I just be honest? Look, if a client gives me a photo as inspiration for a painting, it saves me all sorts of time hunting down a good photo to use as inspiration for my next piece. No one who has commissioned a painting from me has received a lesser quality painting because it was commissioned by them. Honestly, my heart and joy are in every single painting I’ve ever painted. I simply love painting and I don’t care if that seed idea comes from my own head or from yours. The painting will always come from my heart.

Okay, time for a cup of herbal tea I think. I feel much better now.

What does Diversity have to do with honest artwork?

The photo above is my view as I paint. Not bad, right? So this morning, I took a moments break between art projects I was working on and stared out at these trees. And it occurred to me that there are uncountable varieties of foliage just right here in this one scene. They are all broadly the same thing (they are all plants). Most in this photo are more specifically similar in that they are trees (but several varieties). The trees do not make the shorter shrubs look ugly, and the shrubs seem quite comfortable growing alongside the trees without feeling insecure because they’re not as large. Pardon me please, I know I’m anthropomorphizing here, but it really hit me this morning: Diversity when living closely together is really beautiful. That’s at the heart of what makes nature so beautiful as opposed to a man-made garden. Beautiful, natural reality is incredibly diverse, and if what horticulturalists tell us is true, a diverse natural environment will be a healthier environment. If that is the key to real beauty as I suspect, it makes me wonder why we (why I) personally gravitate to people who are just like me. I find my tribe (of my own ethnicity, religion and culture) and then I “otherize” everyone else. Doing that seems so natural to us as human beings. But if there’s a lesson to be learned from nature; if the way nature “does it” applies to us humans too, then I suspect the more we maintain our differences but live our lives immeshed with people who do not look or talk or think like us, the closer results will look like real, natural beauty. But the more we huddle with people that are just like us, the closer we get to what is mundane, boring and even ugly.

“To the extent I mimic in my artwork what I see in front of me here as I paint, to that extent my artwork will be beautiful.”

Imagine a summer hillside panorama — mountains covered with trees. Got it? Okay, now imagine someone hands you a jumbo box of crayons to do a sketch, what color would you grab to depict the trees? Green? Really? Look again. To the left, those trees are in shadow and are almost black. Behind them, the sun is shining bright on something that looks almost yellow. Beside that is a bright green maple tree. As you look farther off in the distance, the more blue green the trees look and in the far off distance, the mountains look light blue gray (although they’re covered with the same green trees that are right in front of you). And everywhere, there are thousands and thousands of wildflowers and uncountable shrubs of various kinds. This is wilderness. And this is what actual, honest real beauty looks like: Awesome diversity of life, living closely together, maintaining their own individuality, all a part of the whole of exquisite beauty.

To the extent I mimic in my artwork what I see in front of me here as I paint, to that extent my artwork will be beautiful. So I notice the intricate differences in shades of color as it moves from left to right across the canvas, and grab different colors of paint to minutely adjust those colors. (As a side note, I never even use the same color blue in a sky — the color of the sky even on a crystal clear day, varies from left to right and top to bottom of what you see. To make my scene look “realistic”, I have to use a variety of colors even to paint something as simple as a blue sky.)

I long to live in a world that is really beautiful. And looking out at nature, I really think God left some clues how to create a society that is really beautiful: Diversity of life, living closely together, maintaining their own individuality, all a part of the whole of exquisite beauty. That sounds so awesome. I can’t make anyone go along with me but if I myself can keep this lesson in front of me for a while and be shaped by it, I think I will be a better, happier (and beautiful??) person.

A Look Back to "The Dark Year"

Maybe it’s just because this is therapeutic, but I think I need to give a “Year in Review” as far as the strangest and scariest year I can remember: 2020. When it started, I was oblivious to what was to come. We were celebrating the New Year with our kids in Texas, and I was working on a dozen commissioned paintings. 2019 was my best year to date (sales-wise) and I was looking forward to what 2020 would hold for us.

Wow.

In late February, I left Joy in Texas to help take care of our newest grandchild, and I ran back to Asheville to finish up and deliver several of the painting commissions I was working on. But over the couple weeks I was back at my studio in Asheville, as February was giving way to March, the Coronavirus was ramping up and the governor ordered all businesses closed. I still had to work in the studio and was walking in each day, but it was kind of terrifying. The streets were empty and silent. It was like a scene out of “The Walking Dead”. When I got to my studio, I opened the door and wept. I thought this might be the end of my career.

After a couple weeks by myself in an empty, quiet city, I drove back to Texas with a new supply of panels for the next round of commissions. Texas (like everywhere in the world) was still scary, but at least I was not alone there. Our home there is right next door to my daughter and her family and two houses away from my son and his family, so I was painting and playing with grandchildren for the next few months as we waited.

In the mean time, rather than seeing my business shrivel, I was amazed: it was growing. People were ordering commissions from me like they’ve never done before. In 2019 (my best year so far), commissions were about 50% of my total sales), but in 2020, they shot up to about 80%. This amazed me. I figured that when people are worried about the economy completely crashing, who is going to buy artwork? But a client corrected me: “No Steve,” she said. “Especially this year we need artwork. We need to add beauty to our lives especially now.” I’d never actually thought of it that way.

My studio in Asheville really was empty until summer, but then summer was pretty busy. Foot traffic in September seemed “almost normal”. By that point, everyone coming into my studio (from all over the country) seemed fine with the idea of wearing face masks and socially distancing.

By the time the year ended, my sales were right in line with where they’ve been the last several years. 2019 was still the best year so far, but 2020 was not the worst and for that, I’m profoundly grateful.

Because of 2020, I learned that I love to paint at home. I spent the year painting under a couple big maple and hickory trees in my front yard and I found that to be really refreshing. Honestly, I’ve had worse work environments! I’ve also enjoyed the time with my wife and my family. As far as 2021 goes, we’ll see. But the time working from home, without the studio crowds, has given me time to think outside the box and dream and ask myself where I want to be headed and what I want to be doing. I don’t usually have time to ask big questions like that, but in 2020, we all had a lot of down time to think, right?

I’m looking forward to vaccines and truly praying for a return to normalcy in the world; a return to coming close to people again, of shaking hands, of hugging. In the mean time, I will keep dreaming and planning and painting.

Story Behind the Painting: Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat

“Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat”

I’ve had people ask about inspiration. “What’s the story behind this one?” I love that question. So for fun (and maybe mostly for my own entertainment, I thought I would recall some of these “stories behind the painting” here in this venue. So here is the first: “Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat”.

Last September, my wife Joy and I were gifted some time in the south of France by Joy's mom. We spent several days in Nice, and while we were there, my task was to find a really great beach. So I Googled "best beaches". Joy's only stipulation was that it would not be too crowded. That stipulation turned out pretty laughable, since this stretch of coastline is one of the most tourist-crowded coastlines in the world.

“…we spent time swimming in the most amazingly clear,

radiant blue water I've ever seen”. 

So instead of a crowded beach day, we settled on a walking day. And what I randomly found on Google maps turned out to be one of the highlights of our whole visit to France. There is a peninsula just east of Nice called Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat and there is a footpath around nearly the whole peninsula. This little footpath seemed to be entirely unknown by tourists since we were about the only people on it, and here and there, there were tiny little inlets and beaches (completely empty beaches). This painting is based on the photo I took of the exact spot we stopped to have our lunch and where we spent time swimming in the most amazingly clear, radiant blue water I've ever seen. 

I was resigned to share our beach day with 50,000 other visitors and instead, I shared a secluded little cove with my wife. What an awesome surprise. 

In Celebration of Art

As I was drinking my coffee early this morning, I was thinking about my day and what I had planned for it. I’m an artist; a painter specifically, and I work with oil paint. So thinking about my day meant figuring out which piece to work on first, and kind of plan in my head what I want to do with it. I went through each of the paintings I’m presently working on, poured another cup of coffee and thought, “you know, this whole “art thing” is really amazing. As a painter, I’m participating in a primal and ancient rite. Primal, because you give a one year old child a paper and crayons, and they know exactly what to do with them. Ancient because we’ve been creating since we identifiably became “modern” humans. As a species, we can’t seem to help ourselves. We have to creatively express what’s inside our heads. To me, that’s fascinating. And I call it a “rite” because that word evokes something mysterious and holy. A “rite” is the gate into the spiritual. And I absolutely believe art is spiritual. Art touches a part of us that is not just cognitive or physical. Art awakens a part of us that is the realm of the spirit and the heart. And that’s really incredible. How does art do that?

As a painter, I’m participating in a primal and ancient rite.

Art doesn’t so much make us think this or that as it evokes “feeling” in us. When you walk in through the doors of the Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence, Italy and walk down the long hallway toward Michelangelo’s David, you are captivated. You can’t help but feel it. David is extraordinary and he commands respect. Anyone who as been there and seen that incredible sculpture knows exactly what I’m talking about. When I visited Giverny, France and walked through Claude Monet’s home and garden, I felt it there too. The garden isn’t just plants, it’s artistically created, and it’s truly beautiful. It evokes calm and peace. Why does something I see evoke emotion? I don’t know how that works but I know it does and to me, that’s utterly fascinating.

I remember as a kid being taken to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion to listen to Zubin Mehta conduct the L.A. Philharmonic orchestra. They were performing Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony and I remember crying. How does music do that?

We are incurably artistic beings, known for our intellect but really marked by our emotion and spirit. As I see it art is an ancient gateway, and whether you’re a year old kiddo with a red crayon, a poet, a gardener, a painter, a gourmet chef or a musician, you’re sort of entering another world when you create. You’re entering Eden (that paradise, that “better” place) and as you depict what you see or feel there, you bring Eden into this broken world. What a wonderful thing that is.

So close your computer and go grab a red crayon, a pen, a spade, a paint brush, a KitchenAid or guitar and let’s create something. Let’s bring Eden down, and walk there again in the cool of the day! Or you can fixate on coronavirus or the upcoming election. I’ll choose the paint brush. Care to join me?