Destiny Allison's Blog, page 16

Selling Your Art #5 — Priced to Sell

When I was first starting out, I did a show in Houston. Another sculptor visited my booth and gave me a great compliment. Then he said, “You need to double your prices.” I was stunned. Already higher than made me comfortable, I couldn’t fathom why he insisted, so he explained it to me. For that, I am forever grateful. Here’s what he said (keep in mind that we are talking about bronze and steel sculptures. You will need to do some research for your specific media).

“At your prices, the middle class can’t afford you. Even if you dropped your prices, they’re out of range. At the same time, those who can afford you won’t buy your work because you haven’t demonstrated its value. Collectors are making an investment and want to be sure they are getting the best they can for the money they spend. By under pricing, you send a message that you don’t value you’re own work, so why should they?”

This made sense and I did what he suggested at the next show. I went from an average price of $900 to an average price of $1800. Not only did I double my prices, I doubled my sales. In addition, instead of paying with credit cards, the buyers paid with cash and checks. Eventually, I found my sweet spot. Now, I raise my prices 10% if I have sold more than 50% of my inventory at the end of the year. I almost always do, which tells me I’m priced appropriately.

Here are some tips for right pricing your work.

1. Know how much it costs to make your work including materials, promotion, contest or booth fees, electricity, phone, internet, studio space, credit card processing, accounting, commissions, etc. Also know how much you need to make. Do your math first so you understand your bottom line. For more on this, check out an earlier post on my other blog site.

2. Find out what the mid range is in your media. You almost never want to be the lowest or highest. Lowest suggests poor quality, desperation, or lack of knowledge. Highest suggests arrogance, is often unattainable, or both.  In the mid range, you are competitive.

3. Figure out a formula that keeps your pricing consistent (and ALWAYS keep your prices consistent, regardless of where you are showing. My formula is height x width x $. This formula differs for each of my styles. Wall sculptures are $3.25 per square inch while standing works are $4.25. Obviously, this can produce some funky numbers so round to the nearest whole. Once you’ve established a square inch formula, you know what to charge for commissions and you don’t have to think about prices until it is time to raise them. The formula means that your profit margin relative to your time will fluctuate slightly, but this is to be expected. Sometimes we struggle to get a piece right. Other times, we don’t. It all averages out over time.

4. You can go up, but you can’t go down. Unlike other commodities, the value of art is supposed to increase. This is often a myth, but it is how the market operates. Consequently, you have to start at a reasonable point and increase slowly. I know many, many artists who did well prior to the recession at artificially inflated prices who are now struggling to pay the bills. Those who controlled their pricing and stayed attainable are making it through.

5. Just because you think your work is worth more, doesn’t mean it is. Check your ego at the door. My collectors consistently thank me for being reasonable. My response has always been, “I need to make a decent living, not a killing.”  As a result, I always have.

6. If you got stuck with inflated prices and your sales have dropped dramatically, consider introducing a new body of work. That work can be priced lower because it is an unknown. Previous collectors appreciate the opportunity to support you in new creative endeavors and the new body can attract new buyers.

7. Offer varying sizes so buyers have price choices. When you do a show, having all your work sized the same is a distinct disadvantage. I try to always have a good mix — one or two really big ones, three or four small ones, and the rest in the middle. Most often, collectors will choose the middle range, but if you don’t give them a choice, you make it that much harder for them to make a decision. No one wants to look cheap and few will be able to spend top dollar. In addition, people live in different sized houses and what fits in one won’t in another.

8. Discounts are part of the business, but don’t devalue yourself. Negotiating a price is something we all do from time to time and isn’t necessarily bad. I try not to discount unless the buyer is purchasing more than one piece, but I also am vested in closing the sale. When necessary, I might offer free shipping, delivery, or installation, or absorb the sales tax. Regardless, it is very rare for me to discount beyond 10%. Interior designers will usually ask for 20%, but I don’t always give it. If the designer is offering a long term relationship, then fine. If the sale is a one up, I typically don’t go there. Be sure to include possible discounts in your formula pricing so you don’t get burned on a deal.

9. The price is important, but usually not a deal breaker for serious buyers and you want serious buyers. They will become fans and promote your work to others. Those showing up at the end of the day on the last day of the show are vultures. They might pressure a hungry artist and get a piece they love, but they probably won’t remember the artist’s name. Think about it. If you are in the market to buy an ebook, the difference between $2.99 and $3.99 isn’t enough to stop you from purchasing the book you really want. This is true at higher prices as well. If a client can afford to spend $1000, she is can also afford $1200. It isn’t going to make a huge difference to her, but it will for you. I’ve always told my clients that my prices are fair so asking for a discount is unreasonable. Usually, they agree.  The best collectors never ask. Treat them like gold because they are.

Selling art isn’t that different from selling anything else. Buyers want quality, value, and service for a fair price. When you can provide that, and your work meets their needs, your odds are greatly improved.

What are your thoughts? What pricing strategies have worked for you? Please share your thoughts and comments below and don’t forget to follow the blog so you don’t miss future posts in this series.

Playing at flash fiction

Because I had some free time, but not enough….

Untitled (suggestions welcome)

We rub each other’s feet. His touch, dry and rough, is a shiver. He doesn’t believe in manicures, wears a thousand scars, doesn’t care. His hands, charged and lined, map the chaos of his mind.

He coughs, spews into a tissue, and grins. I frown. Eyes twinkling sharp and clear, he hides behind his calm, a stone warmed in the sun.

Shifting, I push my feet closer to him, under the blanket and away from the cold. The TV is in one room, the wood burning stove in another.  We like it that way, one focus at a time, moods not interchangeable in seconds, though I suspect he humors me.  Escape is something he does well.  I prefer whiskey, but he does not seem to mind.

Is it possible to accept so much? Does he bury judgement like coughs, so it chafes his heart in the dark? Movies make him cry.

Pulling my foot so I slide on the couch, he runs his fingers up my leg. I have not shaved today and am embarrassed by the stubble. Intent on touch, he doesn’t notice. Palms flat, heat spreading, I forget the movie, my whiskey, the cold.

His eyes are glued to the screen. Images flash, faces flicker, blue light reflects in the darkened window pane. A dog barks at the door. Pulling away from him, I rise, untangle myself from the blanket, and put bare feet on the tile floor.

The chill wind whips into the room with the dogs. They circle him, tails wagging and  tongues lolling, until he pats the blanket and they jump. Rolling atop him like puppies, he is covered in hair and smell and warmth. The sound of his laughter, hoarse and true, is a river.

Shivering, I shut the door and wait. He will remember me soon.

Overwhelmed? Join the club

There’s some dark stuff floating around today, a sadness in places unexpected. Peppering the heaviness are bright sparks — a cheer, an inspiration, a comforting word. Some days, the world feels so big.

This morning I read an article about an entrepreneur who failed and hung himself. Months ago, he was optimistic and on top of his game. His idea wasn’t bad, though perhaps his implementation was lacking.

A little later, I read a blog post by a friend who is just jumping into cyberspace. Her article made me wince.  I remember when I was that overwhelmed. Some days I still am, especially when I read something that makes me feel inadequate.

One of the posts I read this morning by blogger/writer Kristen Lamb talked about 5 things that can kill your novel. Absorbing her advice, I panicked. My new novel is with a top notch editor, but after reading Kristen’s post, I wanted to snatch it back.  ”Wait, I have to fix something….” my soul cried. After a few minutes, reason returned and I laughed at myself. I hired an editor because I took the book as far as I could alone. If the chapter worrying me needs work, she will let me know.  Breathe.  Breathe again.

We are so overloaded with advice, recommendations, and other’s success that we can become more insecure than is healthy — for us or our world. Don’t get me wrong, the information made available for free by people genuinely trying to help has been invaluable.

These last several months have been an intense immersion into writing craft, social media, and self-examination. I have learned so much about so many things, not least of which is myself. For this, I am forever grateful. Nevertheless, it is a fine line between absorbing knowledge and eroding the confidence essential to success.

Simultaneously, we must recognize that 90% of us will fail at least once. If we don’t reach out a hand to support those struggling with self-doubt, failure, and frustration, not only are we selfish humans beings, our lack of support might  prohibit the next great work from ever seeing the light of day because someone quit too soon.

I’m making a commitment to reach out more often. I hope you’ll join me.

As always, I welcome your thoughts and comments. Let me know if you’ve struggled with self-doubt and overload. What did you do about it? What advice can you share? Looking forward to hearing from you.

Celebrating!

Yesterday, frustrated and discouraged, I opened facebook. On my gallery page, there was a message. This is what it says:

Destiny,

I am in the process of reading your book Shaping Destiny.

My aunt Margaret bought it for me for my birthday.

I honestly can’t put into words how much I love it.

I haven’t even finished reading it because I am cherishing every chapter.

Your beauty, strength, and honesty shines through in your work and your book is helping me transform and gain the courage I’ve been seeking.

I am already planning on purchasing copies for my friends and relatives. 

Thank you for being passionate and courageous so that others can follow their dreams too!

With love and gratitude,

Frances

This made me cry. It also cheered me considerably.

Today, I am celebrating the one year anniversary of Shaping Destiny and a new cover design. Consequently, Shaping Destiny is FREE today and tomorrow on Kindle. Note: You don’t have to own a kindle to download it. Here’s the link: http://www.amazon.com/Shaping-Destiny-quest-meaning-ebook/dp/B007NNFQ8I/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

Stumbling

Talked out and tired of sitting in my chair, I cleaned house this afternoon. Room by room, I cleared clutter, polished surfaces, and swept floors. How is it that so many cobwebs abound?

It didn’t help. I’m still fumbling for words. When they’re round and full or crisp and sharp, they tumble like water over rocks. Today, coherent thought and captivating images have dwindled — cracked mud where once water flowed free.

Over the past few days, I’ve been writing about the business of art, sharing what I’ve gleaned in hopes it might help some of you on your journey. I haven’t written anything for me. Not that I haven’t wanted to, it’s just not flowing.

Yesterday, I started a new sculpture, but didn’t return to the studio this afternoon like I’d planned. It wasn’t there, what ever it is — the juice, the spark, the mojo magic.

Through the years, it has been my instinct to avoid shirking the work for lack of inspiration. Usually, it comes back when I piddle around for long enough. Sometimes, what I produce is crap. I’ve learned to forgive myself those failures. They get lumped on a pile in my bone yard and occasionally find new life as part of a different sculpture.

Because I’m nothing if not disciplined, I go to work every day in one way or another. So here I am, chucking up words that feel clunky, misguided, and dry. My apologies. I thought it only fair, after my didactic recent posts, to confess my weaknesses. Among many, my favorites are chocolate, whiskey, and backgammon.

Least favorite are days like this when nothing goes quite as planned. This morning, while attempting to write (OK, pretending to write and tweeting instead) a bluebird flew through an open door and perched on my kitchen counter. What a wonderful sign of spring. Enchanted for a moment, I watched. Then, distracted by a conversation, I went back to my keyboard.

A few minutes later, I rose from my chair to investigate a loud noise. The bird had gotten trapped between a window and geranium. Frantic, it hurled its body against the pane. I reached in to rescue it, but it escaped my grasp, leaving all its tail feathers in my saddened hands.

As it hopped and fluttered around the house, my dogs joined the chase. Now it was a matter of life or death. After several failed attempts, I threw a towel over it and snarled at my dogs to stay back. Lifting the terrified bird, still inside the towel, I carried it outside, shutting the door behind me to keep the dogs from getting loose.

I set the bird on a patio table and waited for it to fly away. It just sat there, stunned. Eventually, I returned to my desk and pretended, again, to write. It wasn’t long before I heard scratching at the back door.  Then, the door opened and one of my dogs came into the kitchen. She was smiling, blue feathers in her teeth.  Focused on saving the bird, I hadn’t noticed she had slipped outside before me.

So now, late in the day and procrastinating, I have yet to write something worthwhile, work on a sculpture, or finish cleaning the house. I think it is almost time for whiskey and chocolate.

How was your day?

Selling Your Art #4 — The Changing Marketplace

Several years ago, I did a big show in Ann Arbor, Michigan. People were bused in from the tri-state area and the streets were a river of people. My booth was next to an artist from Texas. He made cute paintings of farm houses, trees, and pears, each mounted in his signature frame. First to admit his work wasn’t high art, he enjoyed making and selling it.

We had a good time chatting until the judges came around and the show began. Then, this artist worked harder than he had ever worked in his life. Not only did he take best of show in category, he made more than $30,000 in three days selling $200 – $600 pieces.

Meanwhile, I worked as hard as I’ve ever worked to close three sales. Two of these sales required driving to a neighboring state after hours. I met one buyer and her designer in her bathroom at midnight.  Needless to say, I was perplexed and exhausted.

I puzzled over this show for a long time. Then, in a different state, at a different show, I met up with this artist again. This time, I did $30,000 in sales and he had a zero show.

What happened?

Nothing. Michigan preferred more conservative works. Oklahoma liked contemporary abstract. My intensely crafted outpouring of soul means nothing to people who like cute pears. Conversely, people who resonate strongly with my style are not going to buy his. It’s all about the market.

If you can make it, I promise there are people in the world who want to buy it. You just have to find them.

Unfortunately, the art market is changing rapidly. Last year, 90% of my sales were commissions and many were from prior collectors. The days of impulse buying are mostly gone. Collectors want a direct relationship with artists and objects that mean something to them personally. In this climate, collectors are once again becoming patrons.

So what are artists to do if they don’t have many patrons?

Those who have worked for years to cultivate relationships beyond the exchange of dollars for art are doing okay. Some are still having success generating new interest in their work at street fairs and art festivals, though these have also seen a decline. In addition, fairs are expensive and there is no guarantee that showing up will generate sales. Most often, galleries don’t share client lists even when they go out of business and leave you hanging (If you can, negotiate for this in your contract. It’s only fair.)

Now is the time to reinvent ourselves, our businesses, and our expectations. This doesn’t mean ditching the work you love to make something currently in fashion. It means digging deep, reaching wide, and taking risks. It also means building meaningful relationships with potential buyers and others in the business. Most importantly, it means looking for new channels to sell your work. It’s a long road, but the sooner you get started, the sooner you get where you want to go.

In the last post, I mentioned an artist who is hosting auction parties every month at his studio. Other innovative examples of creating markets include the storefront art model and community exhibit spaces like the one I run outside Santa Fe.  Both take advantage of otherwise empty retail space to promote art and artists and simultaneously drive traffic to commercial districts.  It’s a win-win.

Here are some other tips that might help:

1. The Art Fair Sourcebook evaluates street fairs across the country based on artist sales. It’s a great resource even if you are not doing shows because it helps identify the style of work a population is most likely to buy. The owner of the company is an artist himself and I have consistently found his evaluations to be on target.

2. Engage in social media and talk to artists around the country or the globe.  They know what sells in their market.

3. Develop your own market by building a mailing list of people interested in your work, blogging, and utilizing social media to develop long lasting relationships with art buyers. Facebook has groups for art collectors.  Join one, don’t shout, and engage in the dialog. If you don’t have a website or a blog, get one. WordPress, and others like it, are free and easy to use. Follow blogs by other artists and people in the business of art. More importantly, follow art buyers as they tweet, blog, and share their recent purchases through sites like Tumblr and Pinterest. Get to know them before you invite them to look at your work.

4.  Reach out to your past collectors just to say hi. They love to know what you’re up to, but they also love to be part of your life. Think about it, for all the cynical jokes about buying art to match the sofa, your collectors are actually buying you — your voice, passion, and unique expression. If they can, they will buy from you again. If they can’t they will at least be a fan and promote you to their friends.  A few months ago, a couple came to town and wanted to meet me.  Friends of theirs had commissioned a sculpture last year. Since then, unbeknownst to me, they had been looking at my work. I recently completed a commission for them.

5. Build an installation portfolio and show it as often as you can.  Seeing your work in actual locations helps people to make a buying decision. Even if you don’t have many sales yet, photograph your art in real places so people can see it in context.  Take a look at the photos below to get a sense of what I’m talking about.

6. Establish yourself as an expert in your area. Often libraries, art centers, local museums, and other venues are happy to have artists give talks on their process, the history of their media, etc.  Come up with some things you can talk about and approach them. Then, when you’ve got a talk scheduled, write a press release and notify the local media. Don’t forget to invite everyone you know.

7. When you’ve had a success, share it. People love to hear when things go right. The more they hear, the more seriously you are taken as an artist. That often generates increased sales.

8. Find the right audience. If you paint pictures of your global travels, approach your local travel store for a show. If you photograph flowers, approach the master gardeners in your area and invite them to have you photograph their private gardens (for a fee, of course). If you are doing equestrian art, approach your local tack store and see if they will hang some of work on commission. Be creative. You’re an artist.

9. Be passionate about what you do. Passion sells faster than anything else. Don’t minimize your excitement about a new piece, but as I mentioned in a previous post, know your story. What we have in common has more power than what sets us apart.  Artists speak to the universal or the scream, unheard, into a void.

10. Price your work to sell. It will not gain value collecting dust in your studio. In reality, most art declines in value over time, so stop trying to be the next Van Gogh (who died a pauper, by the way).

A woman participating in a show at our exhibit space was dead broke. She had lost her job in recession, her unemployment benefits were about to run out, and she was desperate. Never-the-less, she priced her 24″ x 36″ paintings at $6,000 each (note, this was her first show). I asked her what she was thinking and she said the works would sell for that on Canyon Road. True, but we weren’t on Canyon Road and she didn’t have any track record. After some discussion, she re-priced the works at $1,100 each. During the opening, she sold three. Mortgage paid and children fed, there was enough left over to buy canvases.

In the next post, I’ll talk more about pricing. Stay tuned and, as always, please share your thoughts and questions in the comment section below.

Selling Your Art #3 — Are you ready for representation?

original photo at http://www.ehow.com/how_4451605_make-money-selling-art.htm

I’m heading to the studio in a little while and, though I dread the ensuing backache, I’m looking forward to it. Having spent the last twenty years pursuing sculpture with a vengeance, it’s been hard to step away. I miss the daily wrestling with something as big, or bigger, than myself, the smell of burning metal, and the almost mystical contemplation of a work in progress. For years, I defined myself by the work I did — not just sculpting, but sculpting in steel.

These days, I’m sculpting words more often than metal, and that’s good.  My injury has forced me to take a hard look at my definitions of self and what it means to be creative.

What does all this have to do with selling your art?  Everything.

In the last few posts, I’ve talked about storytelling and how it is essential if you want to engage a buyer at a deep level (read turn potential buyers into life long collectors).

Today, I promised to address the quote I didn’t have time to get to yesterday. For those of you who missed that post, this is the quote:

“Anyone else ever feel the business side of being an artist sometimes gets in the way of creativity? I need to find an agent/gallery.”  – taken from a Twitter thread.

Everything I do is creative. From walking the dogs to cleaning the house, writing a blog to creating a sculpture, working on a novel or a relationship. Creativity is in every fiber of my being. It is also in every fiber of yours, if you allow it to be.  This does not mean all my creative endeavors are successful or even aesthetic — just look in my kitchen cabinets — but when you apply your creativity to otherwise mundane chores, sparks fly and movement happens.  This is good because without it, your work will not find the audience it deserves.

Unfortunately, contracting with an agent or a gallery doesn’t mean you will sell any more art. Representation only guarantees your work will hang on a wall outside your studio. That is not to say you can’t get lucky, or that an agent or gallery is not going to sell your work, but it is likely that if you are not already working on selling it yourself, nothing will change when you do find representation.

Artists have to sell their own work.  They have to sell it to the public, agents, and galleries.  No one can effectively represent you if you have not given them what they need to do a good job.

So are you ready for a gallery or agent?

Here’s a check list.

1.  Is your work priced appropriately? Some artists price works according to their own relationship with it. I knew a guy who hung an unfinished collage in a group show at our exhibit space and priced it at $1.5 million. Another piece of his was priced at $600.  Hmmm. This is a great example of artist ego hurting artist sales.  His collage contained some of his childhood photos, but he wasn’t sure he could part with them, so he set a price that he could live with. In the process, he guaranteed he wouldn’t sell them.

Pricing work is a challenge, but it is critical to your success. I recommend a formula of height x width x $ figure. The dollar figure needs to reflect your true expenses, the commission a gallery or agent will take, and the profit you need to make. I price my sculptures at $4.25 x square inch, while my paintings are priced at $2 per square inch. This makes me competitive and guarantees that while I won’t make a killing, I can make a decent living. In reality, if I priced higher, I would sell less work.

Additionally, you need to keep your prices consistent. Don’t sell a piece in California for less than you would sell it in Santa Fe. I promise, you don’t want to do this.  Even if there is no commission to be paid to  a gallery or an agent, you have invested to promote your work and taken on the role of a gallery. In all the years I chose not to be represented by a gallery, my costs were at least the same, or higher, than the commission galleries charged. Travel, promotional materials, web development, etc. consumed up to 60% of my revenue. Be fair and realistic or no gallery will want to represent you.

Finally, price according to the media you work with and take into consideration that your attempt to sell a $400 framed photograph at a gallery whose monthly overhead is in excess of $10,000 will fail. They can’t justify the wall space, so you need to be creative if you are working in a media that sells at this price point (more on this later).

2.  Have you prepared your sales tools?  Yes, that’s your job. An artist statement, bio, and professionally photographed body of work are essential. No gallery can sell your work without them. Artists tend to think of each piece as its own, unique, thing.  It’s not. Just like an author or musician, artists need fans. Can you imagine Bonnie Raitt deciding to go punk on her new album without telling you? Or Stephen King switching to romance all of a sudden? People would be really upset. This does not mean you should not continue to explore and try new things, it just means that you need to develop one polished body of work at a time. Then your style can evolve and/or you can introduce a new body of work to excite your existing base and attract new collectors.

When writing your statement, don’t use art speak. Everyone hates it. Would you buy something from a gallery if the representative told you that the work (a landscape of New Mexico) was a transcendental journey into self and universe via the metaphysical train of soul and god? Probably not. You probably wouldn’t even buy it if it were an abstract. It might mean that to the artist, but I guarantee it won’t mean that to the potential buyer or gallery.

You also don’t want to give a generic bio as in, “I moved to New Mexico in 1979 for the beautiful light, sky, and mountains.” Yeah, you and and everyone else. These statements generate this response. “Who cares?”

I haven’t learned anything about you, your process, or your work with either of these approaches. Be real. As in, “Each of my works begins with a question usually related to my life.  Using geometric shapes and organic forms, I create a dialog in the works to examine myths, roles, and human relationships. The organic forms represent the emotional aspect of my question while the geometric shapes represent the intellectual component,” is one example. Then, when someone has read your statement and is looking at your work, they are more likely to have an Ah Ha moment. That’s what you’re after. Your goal, in spite of the hype, is not to baffle or confuse. It is to have your expression understood.

3.  Are you ready to be a business partner?  Because that is what you are as soon as you sign with an agent or a gallery. They are not taking you on to make your life easier. They are taking you on to make money. If you are not a good partner, they won’t sell your work. It’s like a marriage. Can you imagine the tension, hostility, and resentment you would experience if your spouse expected you to do all the domestic work, plus your regular job, so he or she could self-indulge on a transcendental journey? My response to that spouse, “Glad your levitating, but the F***ing dishes still need to get done.” On the flip side, you could do the metaphorical dishes together while listening to your favorite Bonnie Raitt goes punk album and talking about the beautiful, New Mexico sky.

Your job in the partnership is to:

A) Produce a consistent amount of product (yes, at this point it is product) so that the store shelves are never bare.  For most artists, this is somewhere between 40 and 100 works per year (not counting prints, miniatures, etc.)
B) Help the gallery to sell your work by being present, attending openings (even when they’re not your own) and assisting in any way you can.
C) Marketing through social media, developing relationships with local press, and creating a mailing list of your own. Use these tools and relationships to regularly remind people of what you are doing and where you are showing.  Additionally, you need to bring collectors or potential buyers into the gallery. On this note NEVER undercut your gallery by selling work at a discount out of your studio. You might make a fast buck, but your reputation as a professional is finished.

These are the basics, beyond the steps I assume you already know (portfolio, evaluating good fits for your work, etc.)

So what does all of this have to do with being creative? Art is the process of relationship. Through it we discover and share ourselves. Apply this to the marketing aspect of being artist and relish the relationships that develop, the skills you acquire, and the knowledge you glean. Everything in life feeds our creative expression or, conversely, blocks it. Think of out of the box ways to sell your work. One artist I know has a monthly auction at his studio. He sets a minimum bid on all the works, throws a party, and invites everyone he knows. It’s working for him. Not only is he making a living, he gets to make his art full time. That, I think, is the dream.

Now, it’s off to the studio for me. In upcoming posts I will share other creative marketing ideas, as well as delve deeper into pricing and promotion.

Please share your questions and thoughts.

Selling Your Art #2 — Storytelling

After I posted Selling Your Art #1, some comments came in on Twitter that revealed a lot about why artists often have a difficult time selling their work. These are real comments and they raise some good questions:

If the art is in a gallery (or other venue) and the artist is not there, how can this storytelling be done?
I would rather the viewer make up their own stories about the art than me decide it for them.
Anyone else ever feel the business side of being an artist sometimes gets in the way of creativity? I need to find an agent/gallery

Do these sound familiar?  The funny thing is, you could apply them to almost any creative endeavor — writing, music, acting, etc. I’ve met so many creatives who hold on to a mythology about art making vs. art selling to their own, serious detriment.

In the first post, I talked about the importance of storytelling.  Today, I’m going to expand on that and hopefully answer the first two comments.

Storytelling is not supposed to replace the expression in your work.  It is supposed to engage a potential buyer on a deeper level.

Here’s an example.

This sculpture is entitled Time Stream. Yes, it made sense to me.  It also piqued the curiosity of many potential collectors. In addition, they loved the shape, flow, and tension.

The original piece was nine feet tall and imposing.  It was also pricey.

Now you are in the collector’s seat.  You’ve met me, or my representative.  You are intrigued by the work, but wow, that’s a lot of money to spend.  As one of my collector’s said, “I could buy a car for that price.”

I’m watching your face, reading your body language, and noting the quality of your shoes.  Yep, you qualify as a potential buyer.  (Any time you want, insert your agent or gallery rep in place of me.  The setting is irrelevant).

Seizing an opportunity, I ask my potential buyer (you), “Do you want to hear the story behind this piece?”

Some of you are nodding your head.  Other’s are skipping to the bottom of the post to see if they can find some useful information. That’s okay. They are like the schmoozers who go to art openings for the wine and cheese, interested, but not serious about the work.

For those of you nodding, here it is:  The morning I started this piece I was sitting at breakfast with my husband and one of my sons. We were all reading the paper and it was filled with doom and gloom about the financial collapse. My son had just turned 18 and didn’t know if he wanted to go to college. “What’s the point?” he asked. Cynical, lacking confidence, and terrified about the changing world, he didn’t think it was worth it to pursue a degree. This worried me, but at breakfast, I didn’t have an answer for him.

In my studio that day, I kept trying to figure out a way to tell him, and myself, that it was going to be alright. Time Stream evolved from that worry. In many of my works, I use an inverted triangle at the bottom to represent the fact that anything worthwhile has an inherent risk associated with it. We have to take that risk and balance on that point to get anywhere. In this piece, I used the inverted triangle twice, but in the second one, I used the semi-sphere to represent the seed of an idea.  It could be my son’s aspirations for his future, my sculptural intentions, or your decision to start a new business, get married, etc. The next section of the sculpture is smooth, easy, and safe. Things feel good here. There’s even a window and I can see where I want to go. Then, as I continue my journey, life throws me a curve.  I hit a block. I can’t go any further until I realize that I have to ride the curve and incorporate it into my vision.  When I do, I flow and the seed becomes a full sphere, a realized dream. The only problem is that when it does, the process starts all over again. The ball drops to become the seed of the next idea.   Time Stream is a look at the cycles of life and how we are constantly in process as we pursue our dreams.

Okay, end of story. What do you think?  Did the story interest you?  Did you scroll back up and look at the piece again?

My collectors did. Versions of this sculpture sold repeatedly (both through my efforts and those of my representatives).  Every one of the clients, including the City of La Quinta, California, insisted on getting a written copy of the story with the sculpture. The city manager told me specifically that it was the story that compelled her vote in favor of acquiring the piece.

The point is, when you give your potential buyers a chance to know you and you inspire them, connect with them, or validate their experience, you enrich their experience of your work and deepen your rapport. They might not buy this piece, but they will buy from you in the future (more on this in another post).

If you are not selling your work directly (or face to face) giving your galleries the story about each piece will help them to connect buyers to you and your work. The stories don’t change the personal meaning collectors derive from the art, they simply open a door for collectors to engage with their own feelings about it.

Recently, at our non-profit exhibit space, an artist who had never shown her work before sold 7 pieces in a month long show. How? I asked. “I just told them the stories,” she said.  For her, the stories weren’t about meaning. They were about the mixed media objects she had collected to create the works. Personal, funny, and moving, they helped buyers connect with her and her art.

This post has gotten pretty long, so I’ll stop here. In the next post, I’ll address the comment I didn’t have time to get to today.

I’ll also talk about finding your market and give you some tools to do that.

What do you think? Do you have stories you can share about your work?  I would love to hear from you. Please share your comments below.

Selling your Art #1

Over the last several weeks, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know a lot of artists on Twitter.  Many of our conversations have centered around selling art.  Unfortunately, social media is not the best place to sell art or get answers.  Visual artists are a unique breed and while generic marketing advice is sometimes helpful, it doesn’t address the specifics of the art business.

Consequently, I’m going to start a series of posts that will touch on some of things I’ve learned about selling art. Feel free to comment, share, and follow along as I delve into this topic. If selling art doesn’t interest you and is not why you visit this blog, don’t worry. I’ll keep posting on other topics in between.

Selling Your Art is not as hard as you think.

When I first made the decision to become a full time artist, I was blessed to have a friend who had been doing it successfully for years. She gave me some important advice at the beginning that made a real difference in my success. To qualify that success, I’m talking real dollars — enough to support my family and put my kids through private school.  Some of things I learned might help you get where you want to go.

The first piece of advice she gave was, “If you can’t make it good, make it big.  If you can’t make it big, make it red.”

I laughed.  Hard.  But it turns out, she was right.  Hmmmm.  This advice rocks the sensibilities of most artists and yet it is valuable because it takes us out of our artist heads and into the minds of our clients. The following are some other things I learned.

Lesson 1:  Be a professional

Yes, you’ve heard it, and I will say it again.  Pay a photographer to shoot your work. You won’t get into shows with shabby images. The most important shot is your booth shot, or group shot, because it demonstrates your body of work and your professionalism.

In addition, make sure your work is really finished.  By this, I mean take the time to respect your potential clients. Hanging mechanisms, appropriate pedestals, quality frames, etc. make the difference between a sale and missing the mortgage payment. If you don’t invest in your work, why would anyone else?

Lesson 2: Be yourself and tell your story

The first outdoor show I attended scared me to death. I dressed to the nines and made satin curtains for my booth that billowed gently in a breeze. When the show opened, I sat inside and politely greeted passers-by.  ”Good morning, nice day isn’t?” Or, “Enjoying the weather?” The customers smiled at me and kept walking.

At this point in time, I was broke, the sole support of my three children, and heavily invested.  If I didn’t sell my work, I was bankrupt. As luck would have it, an art shark waited until 7 am the day after the show ended to call me. I agreed to sell two small bronzes and a life sized, abstract steel piece for $2,000 (far less than the actual cost of making them) but it was enough to get me to the next show.

A few months later, humbled and still mostly broke, I did a show in Breckenridge, CO. It was supposed to be cold that weekend and I had only brought cold weather clothes. There was a surprise heatwave and the only clothes I had with me were cutoff, denim shorts and a tattered tee-shirt — work clothes.  I couldn’t afford to shop the pricey boutiques, nor did I have the time. So I wore what I had.

I sold more work at that show than any prior and it blew my mind. In retrospect, I was comfortable, in my body, and not picking at unfamiliar straps or tight waistbands. I moved easily and engaged more directly. Fully me, I was present and not trying to impress.  Instead of holding myself back, I engaged and talked about my work, telling the stories that had inspired me to make it.

People loved the stories!  

Often, buyers are drawn to work, but don’t feel comfortable buying it because they don’t trust their own reaction to it. Nobody wants to be laughed at by more knowledgeable people. When I told stories about my life in relation to the work I produced, they identified with the subject matter and the execution. Then, when they bought it, they had a story to tell themselves and a way to justify their own, emotional reaction to the work. Powerful stuff.

As I got better at telling my stories, I sold more work. A lot more work. Ultimately, I realized that art buyers aren’t just collecting objects, they are collecting me. Moral of the story, be yourself, be comfortable, and engage with stories about your life your buyers can relate to and apply to their own lives.

The next post will go into more detail about storytelling, pricing, and finding your market.

How about you?  Do you tell stories about your work?  Let me know in the comments and don’t forget to follow the blog to get future posts.

Is Technology to Blame for Emotional Barriers?

Reblogged from Kristen Lamb's Blog:

We have all been there. In a restaurant where people are texting instead of talking. They tweet and Facebook and seem to be lost in the digital world instead of participating in the real one. Many writers (and people) are skeptical of social media and technology. We've all been with that person who can't stop chatting on the phone long enough to actually engage in the real-life conversation.

Read more… 740 more words

Very much enjoyed this story and the questions raised.