Marketing Mondays: Open Studios

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Back in late May, Nancy Natale suggested I do a post on the topic of Open Studios. I decided to wait until fall, when many of these artist-run events coincide with the new art season. For unrepresented artists, Open Studios are an opportunity to show work and build a collector base. Even for represented artists, they're an opportunity to participate in a community event.

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Logo and map for the TOAST Art Walk (Tribeca Open Artists Studios) in lower Manhattan. Not a current notice; images from the Internet

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I have done exactly one open studio in my life (hated it; too much set up, too many boring questions, too few sales to make the experience financially worthwhile), but I have occasionally attended them and enjoyed the experience. .
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What I Like About Open Studios
Speaking as a visitor, then, I can say that the Open Studios I've found most enjoyable are the ones in which at least one wall is set up to show the work in a gallery-like setting, which means a white wall and good lighting. Mind you, I like seeing the studios--the tools and materials of each artist, how the setups differ from artist to artist, medium to medium, and whether the studio is a work space or a live/work space--but in terms of viewing the work, the experience is best for me when the work is easily viewable. This might mean, for instance, repainting your painting wall, since that's usually the best vertical surface in the studio.

I also appreciate when the artist acknowledges my entry. I don't necessarily want to engage in conversation with every artist in every studio (and from my one Open Studio experience, I know she doesn't necessarily want to chat with me), but when the artist is totally involved with her friends or reading a book and doesn't look up, it feels like a closed studio. I see a ton of art every month in galleries and museums. What makes an Open Studio unique for me is the peek into the inner sanctum and the opportunity to talk with the artist about her work if I am drawn to it. The artist who can speak clearly and succinctly about her work is the one who will make an impression. And it has happened that hearing an artist speak about her work, to me or to others, has sent me back for a second look even if I was not bowled over initially.

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I personally know one New York artist who ended up with a solo show and gallery representation in Berlin as a result of the exposure, and a Boston artist who's now with a Boston gallery, which then resulted in a commission for a major New England museum, so sometimes the dots do connect. And I know or know of many artists who do well enough saleswise to keep doing Open Studios on a regular basis. (Many dealers won't tell you this, but they do pop into the occasional event to see who/what looks new.)

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Business basics

. Provide information: a price list for the work on view, an artist's statement, a resume
. Give your visitors something to take away with them: a postcard, business card or (best of all) a sheet with a few images along with a statement and contact information. They may decide in a couple of weeks that they want to come back to re-view a work, and you want them to be able to contact you easily. In that same vein, have some printed images of specific works to give to someone who shows serious interest in the work during the event--4x6" photo paper is inexpensive yet provides a sufficiently large image for a collector to ponder
. Accept credit cards. Considering how many people pay with plastic, it's to your advantage to set yourself up to take them

. If you're taking cash, a sales slip is a sufficient receipt for the collector, but follow up with a PDF or a hard-copy receipt so that you have data for your mailing list

. Promote the event. Don't depend on the Open Studio promoters do it all. Put the information on your website, your blog. Send an e-mail to your list. Send a postcard. Include all the pertinent information: who, what, where, when (sounds like a no-brainer, but you'd be surprised at what gets left off the announcements). Include a phone number and e-mail address, and directions or a map if you think it would be helpful

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Pricing

. Price the work reasonably. While you don't want to give the work away, one of the draws for collectors--and artists also collect--is that the prices are lower than at a commercial gallery because there is no commission to share

. If your work is large and your prices aren't low, consider special projects at a lower price: works on paper, a print edition

. Factor in the discount. You're going to be asked, so set your prices accordingly

. Have a raffle. Hey, why not? Open Studios are a fun event. Make it fun! Make the raffle part of your advertising strategy

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Follow Up
. Consider a newsletter to stay in touch with your Open Studio visitors. Let them know when you have new work, let them know of a professional success. People who follow an artist like to know that artist's progress

. Definitely consider a wine and cheese event for collectors when you have new work to show

. Or invite your best collectors to a private studio visit when you have that new work. This is harder work for you-- it's the kind of thing a gallery does all the time: inviting collectors to the gallery to see new work--but as long as you are unrepresented, you want to represent yourself in the best possible, most professional way. When you do find representation, you want your collectors to follow you to the gallery

Over to You

. Who has had good results with the Open Studio, whether in terms of sales or attention from dealers or curators?
. Any advice, trade secrets, caveats?
. If you've got an Open Studio coming up, please post it in the Comments section

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Marketing Mondays: Five Queries that Got Dumped (and Why)

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I have a dealer friend who forwards me some of the artists' e-mail inquiries she receives. She does this partly, I think, because she has to share them with someone (you can't make this stuff up), and partly because she knew that eventually they would make their way into a Marketing Mondays post as a cautionary tale.

The dealer deletes all the names, so all I'm seeing is the message. Unfamiliarity with the submission process is painfully evident in these letters, but also it seems that fear (and in one instance, arrogance) got in the way of basic communication. I don't think any dealer is expecting a formal missive, but a short paragraph with a few informative sentences is not an unreasonable expectation. Take a look at five queries that didn't have what it takes:

1) Hello there,
My boyfriend and I are looking to submit artwork (acrylic paintings) and wanted to know if you would be able to provide us with the fees, how long it can be displayed for, insurance, what percent the gallery takes when a piece is sold, rules and regulations ... etc ... of having our art in your gallery, after being reviewed and accepted of course.
Thank you for your time!
Sincerely,
Artist Name and Boyfriend Name w/ URLs
. The dealer was not addressed personally
. The artist included no description of the work and no j-pegs
. The artist did not look at the submission information online
. Says the dealer: "The artist is so clearly inexperienced that I wouldn't consider talking to her because of the work it would take to educate her, or any artist, at this point in their career"

2) Dealer name,
Thanks for the invite, but I'll pass. You actually call this stuff art? You must be desperate to find real talent. By the way, I'm available.
Artist Name
. While the artist did provide a link to his work, no dealer wants to work with a pompous A-hole. Here's what the dealer said: "Who asked for his opinion? The email invite wasn't a request for criticism, it was an invitation. Do I go to his website and say, 'Hey, your art sucks'?"

3) No salutation
I would like to introduce you to my latest work. I paint the colorful souls of dogs! Here's a link to my website. Browse to your hearts content and let me know if you are interested in these joyful spirits captured on canvas. I am currently represented in [artist names five cities]. I am interested in having a gallery in [your city] and this is why I thought of you.
Artist Name
. Not your gallery specifically, just a gallery in your city, any gallery; that makes a dealer feel special. Woof

4) Dear Dealer name,
Attached please find 4 pages of black and white drawings, CV and artist statement. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Artist Name
. This artist was trying to keep it professional in this physical package, but s/he made the query too short. Say something about your work in less formal terms than an artist statement, at least so the dealer knows you have something to say about it, and at best so that you pique the dealer's interest
. Why was s/he contacting that particular gallery? Dealers like to know you’re familiar with the program, ideally that you've visited the gallery.

.5) Greetings.
No, you don’t know me and yes, I’m a painter. Painting is a joy, a real great vocation and, certainly, a tough way to try to make a living. Yes; I live off it, not a great life but a decorous one. I manage to sell my work every now and then and I’ve even been selling some in the internet. Still, just enough. I write this letter on the very simple assumption that as a professional in the world of art you just might be interested in knowing some different way of painting. I don’t want to burden you with my own opinion of my art work or a bunch of resume data so, how about visiting my site? It won’t cost you, hopefully it won’t bore you and, of course, you are free to log off any time you feel like it. Maybe then you can let me know your opinion and, who knows, perhaps establish a working relationship.
Regards,
Artist Name
. Too much non-useful information, the opposite of #4
. Give the dealers something to make them look!
. It really does help when the dealer knows, or is at least familiar with, the artist. This is why it's so important to visit the gallery regularly and to be familiar with the dealer's program

My point in sharing these e-mails is simply to remind artists to do their homework in selecting galleries to target. When you write, keep it short, informative and professional. Remind yourself that you're writing to another human being with a very busy workday and a huge overhead, not some all-powerful being who is the one and only entity in the universe to hold the keys to your successful future. Include basic information--describe the work with a phrase about it or about why you're involved with that particular theme--and, ideally, an embedded picture (along with a couple of Jpegs). Then if you get turned down, it will be because the work didn't resonate for the dealer, not because you sounded like an idiot. I don't mean you personally, of course.

Marketing Mondays: What's In A Name?

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Janet Filomeno, The Sea Has Veins: The Delaware Series, No. 22, 2009, graphite, aluminum paint, mica powder, oil and acrylic on canvas, 36 x 60 inches

I don't subscribe to the idea that the art must speak entirely for itself. While I don't expect the artist to spoonfeed me her meaning and intent, I do like it when she provides me with a path to her work. Then I'll depend on my own eyes and perceptions to find a way in.

As you might guess, then, I'm not a fan of Untitled as a title (though I have "untitled" plenty of work in the past). Since I work in series, I typically have one title that is repeated numerically. I think a lot about what to call a series, because once the first work is named, there's no turning back. It's going to continue for the duration.

Sometimes the title is clearly suggestive of the work, as with my series, Silk Road. I was painting small color fields, engaging grainy bits of pigment to energize the surface. Then I switched from

Joanne Mattera, Silk Road 117, 2009, encaustic on panel, 12 x 12 inches

a soft brush to one with a harder bristle to create a subtle vertical and horizontal grid. By the time I'd completed four of five paintings, each with a slight sheen and an almost textile-like grain, I had my title: Silk Road. I added "Road" because I wanted to convey that the series should take you on a visual journey from one small color field to the next.

Other times, as with Vicolo, I want you to ask, "What does the title mean?" That gives me a way to engage you. I also provide a statement, so that if I'm not available, you still have a path to the work. But enough about me.

By far the most poetic and mysterious title I have come across lately is The Sea Has Veins, a series by the Pennsylvania-based painter Janet Filomeno, who works in an abstract expressionist idiom (images top and below). Janet's process is physical; she wrests every rivulet and drip out of the paint in service to an almost biological composition. She happens to be my friend, so I asked her to talk to me a bit about where this particular title came from and, in general, how she names her work.

"The titles evolve from metaphorical thinking. Water, fluidity, the organic essence of life, its physicality, all of its many associations are so rich," says Janet. "The Sea Has Veins: The Delaware Series came quite naturally to me as I was influenced by the river that I see daily. I jotted it down about a year before the series came into full fruition, knowing that it would become the title for the series."

I love that the work flowing inside her studio and the river flowing outside it ran together in a single current of image and reality. Typically, though, the title is less physically present. "Usually it pops into my mind as I work on the pieces, or when I am in deep thought about the work. It is my response to the work," she says.

"If one [work] gets edited out for whatever reason (usually edification on my part), I do not re-configure the numerical order. It had its purpose and brought me to the next one."
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Janet Filomeno, The Sea Has Veins: The Delaware Series, No. 5, 2007-08, graphite, aluminum paint, mica powder, acrylic on canvas; 80 x 68 inches.

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How do you deal with titles? Are you a fan of the "untitled" or is naming important? Do you feel it's your responsiblity to provide the viewer with a path to your work, or do you feel your work can speak for itself? And, because this post is part of the Marketing Mondays series, do you think the title is an important aspect to presenting your work to the world?

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Marketing Mondays: Enough With the Reference Letters

Fine, but leave me out of it

(Image from the Indianhead Federated Library System, Eay Claire, Wisconsin)

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I just received my third request this month to write a letter of reference. One was for a very talented young artist, another was for a colleague who has a full-time teaching position (and thus more salaried time off via sabbaticals and vacations than I will ever have), and the third was from someone who likes my blog and thinks I'd write "a kick-ass reference letter," never mind that I don’t know this person from Eve.
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With the exception of the young artist, my response was a polite No.
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Am I being a curmudgeon? A bitter artist? A horrible human being? I don’t think so. As a working artist I have very little free time in my day. Those of you who know me understand just how true this is. When I do sit down to write, it’s to work on my blog, which is my gift to the art community. Individual letters of reference or recommendation require time that I simply do not have. I feel so strongly about this subject that I no longer apply for grants requiring these letters (if I apply for a grant at all) because I don't want to add to someone else's time-and-labor load.

Let me be clear: My issue is not with the artists who ask for letters to be written on their behalf; they are simply jumping through the requisite hoops. I want to see the hoops eliminated. This can only happen at the institutional level, because as generous as funding institutions may be to a small number of lucky individuals, they are placing a huge burden on a large part of the art community. So . . .

Dear Grant-funding Institution,

Enough with the reference letters already. Aren't an application, j-pegs, slides, resume, statement, personal narrative, project proposal, budget, and financial records sufficient to help you select a handful of artists from the hundreds, possibly thousands, who will apply to your institution for a grant/scholarship/fellowship/residency each year?

Yes, the artists are expected to put in many hours to create a submission package, I get that, but why require them to drag others into their (typically fruitless) quest? Each application for your largesse requires three to four letters of reference. Let's calculate the time spent on those letters, shall we?
. Each applicant: 4 letters
. Estimated number of applicants: 500 (less for smaller institutions, more for larger)
. That's 2000 letters
. Each letter takes at least an hour to write
. That's 2000 hours
. In other words, that's 50 weeks of unpaid work—a year's job—for each round of applications to your institution alone

Now let's multiply those figures by the hundreds of institutions that are being applied to annually, each with those requisite letters. Let's say for the sake of argument that there are 500 grants to which artists apply each year. If 500 artists apply to each of those grants, we're talking 100,000 letters and thus 100,000 hours of labor to write them. Of course no one person doing is all that writing, but the combined hours add up to 50 years' of unpaid work--a lifetime of work. Each year.

Who's writing these letters? Teaching faculty, arts administrators, artists, dealers and curators, mostly.
. Many professors are now adjunct, so they’re writing these letters on their own time, not during office hours. These people are typically juggling multiple part-time jobs to pay studio rent and health insurance; they need to be doing work that will pay those bills
. Arts administrators are already up to their eyeballs writing grant proposals for the funds that keep their institutions afloat
. Most artists are themselves working outside the studio 20-40 hours a week; any time they take to write a letter of reference cuts into their studio time
. The average dealer works 10 hours a day five days a week, and then spends her "time off" delivering work to clients and making studio visits
. Maybe institution-affiliated curators can take the time to write letters, but independent curators--i.e.people without a regular income--are very likely seeking grant funds for their own projects

I think the appropriate path for you is clear: Abolish the requirement of reference letters. Judge each applicant on her or his own merits, as some grant-funding institutions already do (bless them!). Grants provide essential support to needy and/or talented artists, but not at the expense of others whose needs and talents are being endlessly tapped to help you make your selections.

Respectfully,
Joanne Mattera

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Readers, have you been asked to write reference letters? How have you responded? Have you asked for reference letters? Has it bothered you to do so? Does anyone feel as strongly as I do? Have I gone too far? Feel free to respond anonymously if you're still in grant-application mode, or if you're uncomfortable with the topic but have something to say..
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Marketing Mondays: How to Reject a Gallery

BUT NO THANKS

Sometimes the shoe is on the other foot, and instead of receiving a turndown, it is you who must do the turning down.

Here's reader C.M.:

I was wondering how to tell a gallery you are not interested in being represented by them or being part of their upcoming programming. Doing it gracefully is proving to be quite difficult. How much info should you give, how much is too little or too much?

First of all, this is a great problem to have, no? But as C.M. suggests, not all artist/gallery fits are good. So I'm going to talk not just about how to decline an invitation, but about why you might want to decline. Generally when responding, less is more.

. Is it about a difference in esthetics?
This is easy: I like you and your program, but I don’t think our sensibilities are a good match.

. Is it about the terms by which a gallery expects to do business?
You want a gallery that has good business practices: advertises, makes sales, has a good online presence, holds the best damn openings in town. If they don't do enough of what you need, let them know: I'm accustomed to a situation in which my work will be promoted online and in print, and in which the gallery handles things like pickup and delivery and framing.
. . . . . OK, so this is a difficult time, and some galleries are cutting back to be able to stay in business, but don’t believe a gallery that says "it is gallery policy" to do/not do this or that. Artists who sell better, who have a higher professional profile, typically get more. If you like the gallery but need more than they’re offering you, ask for more. If they can't give it to you, thank them for their interest in you and suggest that perhaps when the economy picks up we can revisit the possiblity of working together.

. . . . . But I would ask you: Does a situation like this have to be black and white? Can you participate in an occasional exhibition without committing fully? That gives both you and the gallery a chance to try each other out.

. Is it about the reputation of the gallery?
If it's got a bad reputation, your response is a no-brainer: It appears that we don't have the same goals. Thank you for your interest in my work. Do not let yourself be cajoled into going against your research--or your instinct.

. Is it about the personalities involved?
If you don't trust the dealer or you really don’t like her/him, that's not the person you want to be involved with. A relationship with a dealer is not sexual (not usually, anyway) but it is certainly personal. If you don’t like the person, that's going to be a hard relationship to maintain. Don’t let yourself be bullied. How have you turned down dates? That's the approach you need to do here, because it really is about personal preference.

. Is it about the level of the gallery?
If it's showing a step-above-hobbyists, that's another no-brainer: I need to be with a gallery whose roster of artists is more closely aligned with my exhibition history and collector base.
. . . . . If it's a good emerging gallery and you’re a mid-level artist, that's a harder call. Does the gallery get reviewed locally or regionally? Are the sales good? If you feel your career is too advanced for the gallery, that may be exactly why they want you. Dealers are looking to move up, just like artists. They may be looking to you to be the person who helps them do that. Assuming you respond to the the esthetic and the folks involved, ask for more: the Art in America or Art Forum ad, a catalog, inclusion in their next art fair.
. . . . . If they say no and you feel there's nothing in it for you, say no: I like the gallery and I like you, but I'm afraid you're going to have to spend so much time and effort developing the careers of your emerging artists that my needs will be overlooked.

Red Flags
. Is the gallery known for never paying on time? If so, don’t assume you will be the exception
. Is the dealer unwilling to share the names of the collectors who acquire your work?A an artist/dealer relationship is based in large part on trust
. Is the dealer a screamer (watch how he treats the staff); a schemer (do you hear stories of artists being pitted against one another); woefully disorganized (payments are late, work gets "lost" or actually misplaced, inventory records are incomplete); a manic type who needs everything yesterday then oh-never-minds after you have killed yourself to deliver?
. Have you heard rumors of the dealer selling at a "discount" but learn the collectors have actually paid full price?
. Does the gallery ask you for money?
. . . . . You may have to ask around to get some of these answers, but the artist information hotline—i.e. conversation, gossip, e-mail inquiries—may yield answers. I have often asked artists about Gallery A, or even a friendly Gallery B about A. I've also e-mailed artists who I know used to be involved in a gallery; I tell them I'm contemplating getting involved with Gallery A and I wonder if they would be willing to share with me, confidentially of course, any insights that might help me make a good decision. People have done the same with me.

Bottom line: If you feel you must turn down a gallery and you're really stuck for words, thank them for their interest and say simply, I just don’t think we’re a good fit. They'll understand that. That's what they say to artists all the time.

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Marketing Mondays: What Artists Should Know About Running a Gallery

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Recently I reviewed The Artist's Guide by Jackie Battenfield. Now in a lovely bit of publishing symmetry, there's a dealer's guide, How To Start and Run a Commercial Gallery by Edward Winkleman, about to be released by Allworth Press.

Ed has a gallery in Chelsea. He's also a widely read blogger, which you probably know already even if you haven’t been to his gallery. Ed's blog attracts an assortment of artists, dealers, collectors and critics who come in all degrees of intellect, anger, creativity, bitterness and kindness—in other words, an art world in miniature. His online generosity has flowed into his book, which in turn has flowed out of his experience as a respected New York art dealer.

While the book's intended purpose is to help a potential dealer understand how to start and run a commercial gallery, it also provides artists with a clear look at what goes on behind the scenes.
Why is this important?

For one thing, understanding the dealer's concerns and activities will help you present yourself in a way that complements the gallery's program. For another, it underscores the idea that artists and dealers are not so different. Here's Ed: "This is a business in which very little is stable . . . rent in your neighborhood will skyrocket, forcing you to find a new location (and consuming all the money that moving requires); and critics will inexplicably hate your latest exhibition. . . It never really gets easy. Some months you’re flush; others, you’re scrambling." Sound familiar?

Identity and branding; pricing; contracts and legal issues; logistics like crating, shipping, framing; cash flow; and the art fairs are all covered in specific chapters. Independent artists will find the information eminently useful. Though the crashing economy will undoubtedly require second-edition revisions in the Art Fair chapter, it's edifying to see how closely the submission process for dealers to art fairs parallels that of artists to galleries.

I found these chapters of particular interest to artists:

. Chapter 10, Staffing and Management Practices
Ed talks about job titles and responsibilities. Wondering whom to send your materials to? He explains the hierarchy. But more than that, when he tells you what it takes to run a gallery, you can see it's almost the same as what it takes to run a studio. We make, the gallery sells. But we all share the same tasks: photographing work and archiving images, tracking inventory, maintaining records, PR, packing and shipping, bookkeeping. I particularly liked reading about how several New York galleries divide the workload with staffers. The smaller galleries take on multiple tasks, just like artists.

. Chapter 11, Promotional Efforts: Publicity and Advertising
The information here will help an unaffiliated artist create her own promotional strategy. Better still, extrapolating that information, once you follow a gallery and understand the way it presents itself to the art world, gives you a way to approach that gallery.

. Chapter 14: Artists: Where to Find Them; How to Keep Them
Make a beeline for these 24 pages. Nothing takes the mystery out of the submission process better than learning how a dealer puts a roster together. Here's how Ed found/finds his artists, in order of frequency: "recommendations (including from other dealers), institutional exhibitions, open studios, cold call submissions."

. . . . . In other words: show, show, show, show and network, network, network. This goes along with what I know of dealers. Their websites may say "No submissions accepted at this time," but they are always looking. As for cold-call submissions, they are, confirms Ed, "the least productive means of finding suitable artists." If you must go this route, do your homework. "Every now and then an unsolicited submission will make your day. Either the artist has done his research and knows his work is a good match for your mission, or fate smiles on you."

Will reading this book automatically get you into a gallery? No. But it will give you insight into the gallery process. An artist who understands the system and is willing to do her homework to find the right matches and submit to the rigors of the process has a much greater chance of getting into a gallery she has targeted.--and equally, important, flourishing there.

And here's the corollary to that: When the economy finally starts moving in the other direction, a new crop of passionate entrepreneurs will be poised to open their doors. Galleries need artists.

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Marketing Mondays: Career Q&A with Jackie Battenfield

As promised, I'm back with a short interview with Jackie Battenfield, whose new book The Artist's Guide, was the subject of a Marketing Mondays post two weeks ago. If you've leafed through the book, or even simply read my report, you know that Jackie is a strong advocate for artists taking control of their careers. Since Jackie interviewed me for her book, I thought I would turn the tables and interview her for my blog.

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Jackie signing copies at her book launch at the Cue Art Foundation in New York City on June 18. Pics below are from the same event

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JM: Jackie, what has changed most since you started helping artists take control of their careers?
JB: When I first started lecturing there was no Internet. I think that [change] is huge. More than ever before in history, artists can connect with potential audiences. Also, the art world has expanded in that artists are engaged in more media work, video installations, combining media, erasing the boundaries between disciplines. It's all melded.

JM: Yes, but recently the art world has shrunk financially
JB: That has affected artists, but artists are pretty accustomed to living on margins. Not to underestimate how difficult it is to lose part-time job opportunities or a support network, but I'm hoping artists will use this time do the kind of planning they need to do to get through the future ups and downs. My book is about making a living in any economy.

JM: How?
JB: Hopefully every chapter of my book pops one myth after the other. For instance, the idea of supporting yourself only from sales of your work is a myth. Even very successful artists diversify their income, turning it into real estate or investments. Artists with successful gallery careers are teaching or doing freelance work.

JM: You talk a lot about 'multiple income streams.' There's a great little drawing in your book showing a woman on a platform supported by many poles: art sales, teaching, investments, residencies, grants, bartering, freelance.
JB: Multiple income streams ease out the big ups and downs. Very few artists are comfortable with a 24/7 studio practice. It’s very isolating. They have other talents and needs. Turn those into a source of income.

JM: For example?
JB: For example, I love working with other artists, so lecturing on career issues satisfies part of my personality, fulfills part of my income stream and it gives back. My tax preparator is an artist who loves numbers, my yoga teacher is an artist, and many of my friends have turned different skill sets into part-time work.
 

An animated Jackie and her rapt audience at Cue

JM: You also talk about generosity.
JB: You can give advice and time, and it may not come directly back from that person, but the generosity of spirit comes back. If you know of an opportunity and you don't share the information with others, don't think you'll be the only person who applies. If we model ourselves on generosity, others are more likely to be generous too.

JM: What was your biggest surprise researching the book?
JB: How difficult it was to turn the information I had been teaching for so many years into a readable text. It's one thing to give a talk and make up a one-page handout, quite another to turn it into a whole chapter in a book.

JM: What advice would you offer to artists?
JB: Artists often see No where there is no No. I noticed this when I was running the Rotunda Gallery [in Brooklyn]. An artist would approach me during an opening or on the street and ask me to come up and see their work. I'd say, 'Call me next week and we'll try to set something up,' and nine times out of ten they never followed up. I was pretty shocked at how often artists didn't follow up.

JM: Speaking of No, you've got a great line in the book: "If I'm not being regularly rejected, it means I'm not pursuing opportunities." Would you talk a bit more about rejection?
JB: Rejection isn’t personal. It’s not an indictment of your work. Just because someone likes and respects your work doesn’t mean they want to represent it or curate it into a show. There are a lot of other reasons why the work might not be selected. I don’t mean to say that rejection is not painful, but you have to keep at it. One Yes wipes out a hundred Nos.

Want to read more one on one? Amber Hawk Swanson interviews Jackie for the latest issue of the NYFA Current.

Marketing Mondays: The Follow Up

(The discussion is still going strong at The Vanity Galleries post.)

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In the Comments section of the Marketing Mondays on Defining Success (two weeks ago), artist Henry Bateman offered this anecdote: "Being introduced to the director/curator of a class 'A' gallery and have her say 'So you're Henry Bateman!' Is that success? The question is being asked by my bank balance."

I responded: Tell your bank account to shut up for a spell and enjoy the moment. Then follow up.

Today we talk about the follow up. I don’t know Henry, so I hope he doesn’t mind that I use our exchange as a jumping off point. His situation is a good one, because he has an opportunity to pursue the interest shown him.

If I were Henry, here's what I might do:

. Send a postcard to the director/curator saying that I enjoyed meeting her, and that as an artist it's always gratifying to have someone in her position be aware of my work. I'd invite her for a studio visit. Need I mention that the postcard would have an image of my work on the front and the URL to my website?
. Alternatively, an e-mail saying the same thing, with a live link to my website.
. . . What I wouldn’t do: Tell her I think I'm perfect for her gallery and that she should give me a show. Or ask her to give me a show. I would not call her.
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. I'd invite her to my next solo show if it's local. A note on the invitation, or a note with the invitation is sufficient. If I had a catalog for the show I'd definitely send it, along with the invitation. I might acknowledge a shared esthetic sensibility, if that were the case.
. If the show is going to a distant gallery, I’d invite her for a studio preview before I send it off. (In fact, if you have a good local following, why not have a "send off" party before the work leaves your studio? Sure, you’re exhausted from the effort of getting the show finished, but since you’re already running on fumes at that point, why not go the extra mile.)
. . . What I wouldn’t do: Overwhelm her with a package with all the images, the resume, the statement. Since she's already aware of me and my work, an update with links is sufficient
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. If she responds positively, I'd prepare a small packet of materials for her, something she can hold onto (ideally) and dip into when she's conceptualizing a show. Dealers and curators may not tell you this, but they often watch an artist from a distance to see where that person is showing, what kind of critical response the work gets, what the buzz in the art community is about the artist. Curators, especially, hold onto catalogs and postcards
. If there's absolutely no response to any of this from the director/curator, I'd probably keep her on my mailing list and leave it at that
. . . What I wouldn't do: Interest or no, I would not hound her. She's busy, I'm busy. She's now more aware of me than ever because of the recent exchange and my followup. Mailing list followup is all I would do from here on out until I receive a followup from her.
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. And of course I'd visit the gallery regularly. You want a relationship with a gallery? Show up. Relate! Dealers don't operate in a vacuum. They appreciate knowing their creative efforts are appreciated. If you like the show, say so. Say why. Don't offer a dissertation, just a few smart and kind words.
. . . What I wouldn’t do: I would not interrupt a dealer is s/he's busy. And I definitely would not go into the dealer's office to initiate a conversation.
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Artists: How do you follow up?
Dealers and Curators: What kind of follow up do you prefer? Or not prefer?
Everyone: Just to put this whole discussion into perspective, read This Summer, Some Galleries Are Sweating, by Dorothy Spears in the June 19 issue of The New York Times.
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(And speaking of following up, next week I'll have a short interview with Jackie Battenfield, author The Artist's Guide, the book I reviewed last week, along with some pics from the book party at Cue.) .

Marketing Mondays: "The Artist's Guide" and Other Books

Click here for Don Voisine at McKenzie Fine Art
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Talk about timely. Just as the art world is shaken to its foundations by the economic downturn, along comes The Artist's Guide: How To Make A Living Doing What You Love by Jackie Battenfield. I'm not being flip. Even though galleries are downsizing or shutting their doors, artists are still making art and still need to find a place for themselves. This book explains the art world (to the extent that something as multifaceted, international, freeform and unencumbered by "rules" can be explained) and offers clear and useful steps to setting goals and achieving them--information that until recently most artists never learned in art school.

Let me say up front that Jackie and I have seen our professional paths cross and weave into a fabric of mutual respect and friendship. We have taught together. We have shown together. She even interviewed me for this book. We both teach the business of art (she at Columbia University; I at Massachusetts College of Art in Boston. )

But I can be totally objective when I say that this is one well-timed and well-written book. For mid-career artists especially, it's important to know that things have changed from when you were in art school. If you’re operating on the ideas and assumptions you formed 20 (or 30) years ago, you may be trying to navigate the contemporary art world in a Datsun—or an Edsel. Jackie gives you a capacious new Mercedes loaded with business information, marketing advice and encouragement for a 21st century approach to your career. If you’re a recent graduate, she expands on the information you received—or should have received—in your last semester.

Jackie is writing from her experience as a successful exhibiting artist, lecturer and teacher, and gallery director (she founded the Rotunda Gallery, a non-profit Brooklyn institution). Her information is therefore not theoretical but steeped in firsthand knowledge. Sidebar quotes--she calls them "Reality Checks"-- from artists, dealers, critics and curators underscore the relevance of the material. One of my favorites comes from Camilo Alvarez, principal of Samson Projects in Boston, who makes an art world distinction: "A gallerist will send a collector the artist's bio, whereas a dealer sends them the invoice.")

There are exercises and lists to get you revved up, or to shift you into the next-higher gear, but I have to say that it's the guidance and observations I like best. "Much of my advice is not secret information," writes Jackie. But it's rare to find it compiled so well. Here's some of what I like:

. "What you reveal reflects a delicate balance between expressing your ideas and providing just enough information for viewers so they can start their own process of engagement. Your artist statement is specific and poetic at the same time. . . It takes a lot of messy writing . . . to get less than one page or even a paragraph of a finished statement." (pps. 49-50)

. "Promoting your work requires that you be assertive. It does not mean you are impolite, disrespectful or inappropriately aggressive. At an opening, it's the difference between saying a few words about the show to the curator and imploring them to visit your studio. . . You need to untangle promotion from your feelings of self worth and proceed as if it is another part of your artistic practice."(p. 99)

. "Money is the ten-ton elephant in the studio that most of us would like to ignore. . . While you’re in school, the connection between art and money is suspended. . .Eventually reality intervenes. "(pps. 159-160)

. "Constantly asking for money is called 'begging"; purposefully asking for support is an 'empowered request.'" (p. 197).
. . . While you're in this section, be sure to read artist Jody Lee 's story of how she funded her studio by lining up patrons to support her studio.

. "In every project you need to consider how to pay yourself. This is an artist's fee. . . . A funder expects to see this expense on your budget, so don’t eliminate it thinking they will reward your selfless commitment. Instead, they will see it as a sign that you do not think of yourself as professional." (p. 227)

. "A cardinal rule to follow is that whenever a work of art leaves your hands, it must have a paper trail. (p. 262)

. "You may make the art by yourself, but you'll need a community for advice and support." (p. 311)

. "If I'm not being regularly rejected, it means I'm not pursuing opportunities." (p. 327)

. "Every day you have the opportunity to make the art world a more generous place." (p. 340)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Two more current or recent volumes to round out your bookshelf:

. Art/Work: Everything You Need to Know (and Do) As You Pursue Your Art Career by Heather Darcy Bhandari and Jonathan Melber, published this year. One author is a gallery director, the other is a lawyer. A peek into the pages of the book via the Amazon website shows a layout similar to Jackie's that features the authors' text bookended by related and supporting quotes from artists, dealers, curators. It appears to cover all the current issues, from Art Fairs to Courtesy Discounts to the nuts and bolts of preparing, pricing and promoting yourself and your work.

. I'd Rather be in the Studio: The Artist's No-Excuse Guide to Self-Promotion by Alyson B. Stanfield, published in 2007, offers solid, well-organized advice from a Midwest-based professional who has been a museum curator and business coach. The focus here is squarely on promoting your career, not on the larger topic of the career itself.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now over to you:

. What career books are on your bookshelf?

. What career books would you recommend?

. Is there any career advice you've read that has been extremely helpful--or egregiously unhelpful?

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Marketing Mondays: Defining "Success"

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I had lunch at the Empire Diner in Chelsea recently with Stephanie Sachs, a New York-born artist now living in Hawaii. She was in town to visit the galleries and museums.

There are not a lot of gallery opportunities on Maui, says Stephanie—save for the tourist venues with the whale paintings—so she has found an alternative way to show and sell her work. Once a week she sets up her paintings in a designated exhibition area of the lobby of a five-star hotel on the toniest part of the island. She shares this space with several other artists. "We are are responsible for carting our displays, for sales, for shipping and for customer service. The hotel takes a percentage that is less than a gallery."

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Stephanie Sachs, Yes It's Plaid, oil on wood, 20 x 16 inches

Stephanie's clients are sophisticated travelers, not unfamiliar with galleries and museums. She doesn't hear the dreaded "How long did it take to make this?" but a range of questions about the work itself. Sales are brisk.

Annual gross: "The high five figures."

The art world paradigm makes no room for this kind of success. The classic route is to make art, find a gallery to represent you, get into the Whitney Biennial, onto the cover of Art in America, have a sellout show every couple of years in New York, have your dealer take you to the art fairs and get you into museum shows and collections, see your work go for big buckaroos at auction, which allows your primary dealer to ramp up your prices, and enjoy life at the top. (The reality for the other 99.999% is, of course, a soul-sucking job that leaves little time for artmaking in a studio that costs 10 times more than you can really afford. And in this economic climate even life at the top has sunk like a soufflé.)

So Stephanie's entrepreneurial model is looking pretty good. And did I mention she lives in Maui?

Here's another example: A few years ago the Boston Globe Sunday magazine did a lifestyle feature on two artists, a wife and husband, both painters, who live in a farmhouse close to the tip of Cape Cod. They integrate artmaking with raising two kids in a back-to-the-land lifestyle that includes growing their own vegetables, preserving their harvest, and cooking gourmet meals from their own produce. They paint in a barn-turned studio—she downstairs, he upstairs in the loft— and in the summer they open the studio every morning to visitors, many of whom are return collectors. (I visited; it's idyllic.)

These folks are not likely to make it onto the cover of Art in America or into a major show at MoMA. But then, how many of us will? (AiA publishes 10 issues a year. That's 10 artists who might be so recognized. In a decade, 100. In a century, 1000 artists. Hell, that many artists get churned out each year from, say, three or four art schools. As for the MoMA solo, you do the math--and if you're a woman, you can probably count on the fingers of one hand.)

So the post today is to get us all to think about the definition of "success."

Is the art-world paragidm the only viable option?
. If you're making art you love in your studio and selling it in your summer gallery on Cape Cod or Ogunquit or Santa Fe—and enjoying it— isn’t that success?
. If you’re selling to relatively well-off collectors on vacation in Maui, who happily call to commission more work, isn’t that success?
. If you teach all year and show every couple of years in a co-op gallery, get reviewed by the local press occasionally, and have a rich full art life and a personal life, isn’t that success?

I admit that these are not the opportunities I've spent my career in pursuit of. But sometimes I do wonder, when I'm closing in on the 15th or 16th hour of another long work day, if I've been missing something.

Consider this an open forum.
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Marketing Mondays: How Long Do You Leave Your Work With a Gallery?

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Lisa P. writes in with these questions: How long should you leave the work in a gallery if it is not selling? Six months? A year? Can you ask for it to be shipped somewhere besides your studio?

This is a timely question because sales these days are slow. On the one hand, a dealer may want to hold onto the work in the hopes of selling it (collectors in this economy may be taking longer than usual to commit to a purchase). On the other, the dealer may not want to retain inventory that has no likelihood of selling any time soon.

.Your work: Should it stay or go?
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I think a year is reasonable. It gives dealers ample time, and a fair window, to sell through a show. After that, I find that an artist's work (OK, my work) tends to disappear into the back of the stacks as newer work comes in. I'd prefer to retrieve the older work and send something new. Or, something I've been doing recently: Moving the work around so that each dealer gets a few new pieces along with work that's "new" to them but not necessarily new in the world. (My feeling: Solo shows get new work; general inventory doesn’t have to be hot off the griddle.)

Check the terms of your consignment form. You don't need a contract, but you and the dealer should each have a signed sheet that lists what work you have consigned to the gallery and when. It's useful in so many ways: so that the gallery knows what's on hand, so that you know, so that sales can be tracked by both of you. And in case of the unthinkable (fire, flood, theft), there's a paper trail for insurance. This form typically lists the duration a gallery expects to retain the work.

. If the consignment doesn’t specify length of consignment, open a discussion: Ask what terms the gallery prefers, and let your preference be known. Then you can add that to the consignment, or agree verbally, after which you would send a letter (not an e-mail) stating the agreed-upon terms. Keep a copy for yourself. This is not a legal document so much as it is a clarification of the terms you have agreed upon, so that when the time comes to pick up the work or have it sent back, everyone is literally on the same page.

. If you don’t have a consignment form, generate one yourself and ask the dealer to sign it. (Some dealers just aren't good with paperwork. Rather then being offended that you have generated a form, they should welcome it. That's been my experience, anyway.) Include the terms of retention that you and the dealer have discussed. This might be a legal document; but I'm not a lawyer so don’t take my word for it. At the very least it spells out what work of yours the gallery holds and the length the gallery will hold it. I prefer a list that includes thumbnail images; it's much easier to identify the work.

In this economy, some dealers are holding onto work just not to have to spend the money to send it back. That's a bad idea; not only is the work going nowhere saleswise, it's literally going nowhere. If the dealer really can't afford to send the work back, I'd prefer s/he send it back on my Fed Ex account with the idea that when times get better, the gallery will pay for both-way shipping, or reimburse. The economy may not be great, but sales are still being made. I'd rather pay to move my work to where the sales are. It's not unreasonable to ask Dealer A to send work directly to Dealer B. And if Gallery B is keen to get some "new" work, see if you can have the shipment put on their account. As for commissions, while I feel for the galleries that are struggling, I don't believe Gallery A should expect a commission on work sent to Gallery B unless the two galleries have been in discussion about the sale of particular piece.

Those of you who have been at this for a while: What do you think is a reasonable retention time? And, dealers, please weigh in here (anonymously if you prefer), noting especially how the situation has changed as a result of this economy.

Marketing Mondays: Gallery Business

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Blame it on the economy. Many galleries are turning over a new leaf--changing how they do business, typically because of diminished staff

or funds. It's a good idea to check in with your gallery to see how things are going, to learn of any changes in the way they're operating and--since we're in this together--to see if there's anything you might do to help in the promotion of your work and, by extension, of the gallery itself.

What follows are some examples of the ways those leaves are turning.

1. A small New York gallery has dropped its insurance. "Like most of you, I have had to cut back in many areas to keep my doors open. I can no longer take responsibility for insuring the full retail value of the work I have here on consignment," says this dealer. She gave her artists the option of removing the work or keeping it there. Most wish to remain with the gallery and will take the chance for now. Some may retrieve the larger work and allow the gallery to hold onto a few smaller pieces. (The gallery website can show larger works, which the artist and dealer can arrange to have delivered to the gallery if need be.)

2. A New York-area gallery no longer calls the artists to say a work has been sold. Delivering good news is one of the most pleasurable aspects of a dealer's job, but with staff cutbacks those individual conversations with artists may no longer be possible. While no artist is unhappy with the arrival of a check for artwork sold, one artist posed this question: "If I'm not notified when the work sells, isn't it possible that the money from the sale could be used by the gallery to pay its bills? I could be getting that check months after the fact." Well, yes it's possible. But why assume the worst if your relationship with the gallery has always been good? Communicate! Press for an e-mail notification. (If you can't get at least that, then consider a red flag raised.)

3. Smaller staffs mean more chance for inventory snafus. I keep a visual inventory--a digital contact sheet for each gallery, so that I can see at a glance what the gallery has. At the end of the year, I confirm that the gallery and I have the same information. It happened recently that a painting had been sold during the year but I was never notified or paid. I know the gallery; I've worked with it for years. The dealer paid me as soon as s/he realized that the painting I was asking about had in fact sold. There was no deception intended, but I see more of this kind of thing happening as there are fewer folks to do the administrative work.

4. An out of town gallery is no longer paying to have artists' work shipped to or from the gallery. This is a temporary measure until the economy picks up, I'm told, but what concerns me is the cumulative result all of these changes have on artists. Collectively we're having to assume a greater insurance load or risk, having to pay to ship or deliver, assuming ever greater administrative responsibilities, and operating without knowing if work has sold and thus when we might expect a check. With sales down and foot traffic in the galleries almost non existent, I'm wondering how feasible it is even to show right now.

5. A gallery out west is closing its bricks-and-mortar space and going cyber instead. In a letter to her artists, the director wrote: "The internet will allow us to access a more diverse, global client base throughout the year while dramatically reducing our carbon footprint. Flexibility within our site will permit us to easily introduce new work, present more exhibitions, respond more quickly to the needs of our artists and our clients."

I have no affiliation with this gallery so I feel free to say that while the spin is upbeat, I'm not buying. Carbon footprint or no, this trend makes me nervous. If the gallery does art fairs, OK; the artists' work will continue to be shown in a tangible way. But the Internet is no substitute for the experience of viewing art. The gallery also mentioned running profiles of its artists, and linking to other cultural institutions. Hey, I can do that, and I'm no dealer! What would make this cyber gallery any different from, say, a consultant? And will the dealer continue to take 50% on sales? In interesting turn, for sure.

On a more positive note . . .

6. Curate a gallery show. If you have a collegial relationship with your dealer, propose curating a show. You may not--probably won't--get paid much (or at all) to do it, but the curatorial experience is great. You'll think about art and exhibitions in a more encompassing way. You'll have a good reason to give yourself time to make studio visits. The art karma is great. And with you working on the project, the dealer should find a few extra hours to cultivate collectors, research art fairs or other projects that may ultimately benefit you. You'll have a new category for your resume, too.

7. Curate your own "blogallery." It doesn't have to be about sales so much as keeping your work, and that of artists you respect, in the public eye while your dealer and the economy in general catch their breath. I mean if a former b-and-m gallery can go cyber, so can you. (An interesting related project is Minus Space's Viewlist. I did something similar myself with, Cold? Come Stand Next to These in January, and Armory Fair: Salvage Operation in March.)

Not yet with a gallery? If your e-mails and presentation materials are getting no response, and even your visits to the gallery to see the exhibitions result in no personal interaction, it's entirely possible that in this economy the dealer you're interested in isn't thinking beyond the current lease period. Be patient but active. (See the "blogallery" item, above. )

Consider this an open forum for discussion. How is your gallery changing and how are you adapting to your gallery's changes? Don't tell me gallery names; just discuss the situation. And if you feel more comfortable responding anonymously, that's fine.

Image from the website Delight.com

Marketing Mondays: The Vanity Gallery

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[Update 3.17.10:
After consulting with an attorney, I have decided to reinstate the name of the venue, Ico Gallery, now located in Chelsea.]

I recently got a cease-and-desist e-letter from a pay-to-show venue in Tribeca threatening me with a lawsuit for slander. It reads in part:

You know nothing of the gallery business. What you teach your students and have posted online is fantasy. It is slander, and if you do not remove our information immediately, we will contact the university and the server of your blog and initiate a lawsuit.

It is unfortunate that so many people are subject to the delusions and propaganda concerning the gallery business, vilifying the very people who are making a difference in the art world today. Do your homework rather than spewing lies. Do you claim to know how prominent gallery's are doing business? You are guessing; shame on you!


Why the letter? Because I posted, on a blog I created for my students, a caveat about vanity galleries, including their letter soliciting business.

Here's how I responded to the gallery: It's not slander if it's true.

In the interest of journalism, let me share with you some of my teaching-blog post along with the essence of their offer. I have removed their name from the letter, which means they cannot actually claim it as their own, which means I have violated no "confidentiality." I have posted a short list of vanity galleries at the end of this post without commentary.

Me:
As we discussed in class, a "vanity gallery"— so called because you pay to show—typically solicits the artist. There is always a financial charge to the artist, typically to be paid up front to the gallery. This financial arrangement distinguishes the vanity gallery from a commercial gallery, which does not charge the artist to show. Below is an example of a vanity gallery's offering to an artist. It was sent unsolicited to a friend of mine.

I have never heard of this gallery, nor ever received an e-mail from them (and as an art blogger I get A LOT of e-mails from galleries). Their "press" page consists of images of the gallery's advertising in various publications. Normally "press" constitutes reviews of the exhibitions. Note particularly the items in red.

Them:
Dear ______,

We recently reviewed your work online and would like to consider you for an upcoming group exhibition at X Gallery. In exchange for your assistance in paying some of your promotional costs, we will feature you in a show here at X Gallery as well as promote your work in print and online for up to 1 year. If you are interested in discussing this opportunity further, I can put you in touch with the gallery Director or the head curator. Details regarding specific exhibitions and marketing plans should be discussed directly with them. Also, we are not negotiable regarding marketing expense or our commission.

Opportunities for solo or small group shows can also be discussed with the director on an individual basis. This letter is not an opportunity to exhibit; it is to express our general interest in working with you.

Gallery Compensation: 50% commission on all sales
Gallery Advertising cost due up front: $2,500

There's more, but you get the picture. No wonder they were concerned that I was commenting on their practices. I'm guessing they don't want to lose their clientele. And they're not alone; there are other galleries with similar arrangements. New York artists know that pay-to-show galleries have no credibility here. Get, say, 20 artists in for a group each month, and there's 50 large to pay the bills, the staff, the gallery expenses. Why bother to sell anything? The money's been made. The galleries are then free to spend their time and effort soliciting the next batch of artists for group--or "solo"--shows.

Legitimate commercial galleries assume the cost of showing an artist's work. They do not solicit for artists; they receive plenty of submission packages.

There are situations in which artists may legitimately pay to show their work—such as the entry fee for a juried show, or membership dues to a co-op gallery—and these options come with some benefits.

. A good juried show (I'm thinking of the annual NYU Small Works show, for instance) attracts a good juror, tpically a New York dealer, critic or curator, and the possibility for networking at the opening. Some artists have found representation, or inclusion in gallery exhibitions, as a result of the exposure.

. The co-op gallery, which typically requires a membership fee, dues, and time requirements, is as the name implies, cooperatively owned and run. You don't give your money to an owner; you are a part owner. Co-op membership comes with a built-in community of artists and an opportunity to present work that doesn't have to be commercially viable. Both can be good opportunities for an emerging artist. Many artists have moved from co-ops to commercial galleries (this is true of gallery directors as well).

Another gallery I know of that solicits artists in a pay-to-show arrangement: Agora Gallery.

Others advertise regularly in the classifieds of the monthly art magazines. The websites of these galleries may not post the financial arrangements, but you you can confirm for yourself the financial nature of the arrangement by letting them know you are "interested" in showing with them. They will lay out their terms.

And check out my blog post, An Offer I CAN Refuse, about a solicitation I received from Gallery Gora in Montreal.

While we're on the topic, who else has received the "invitation to exhibit" at the Bienniale Internationals Dell'Arte Contemporanea in Florence, Italy? Gilbert & George, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, David Hockney and Richard Anuskiewicz have received honors in previous editions of the fair, and Marina Abramovic will be honored this year. The hoi polloi, the not-so-famous artists may participate for the fee of E2700, or something over $3000. Hundreds, I mean hundreds--of artists participated in 2007. An average of 500 artists at 2700 euros is, let me see: one million three-hundred-fifty thousand euros. Nice take. Image from www.florencebiennale.org

Am I being cynical and suspicious? Has anyone participated in this? Please share your experience. Any encouragement or caveats for this blog's readers?

And in general, I encourage you to share what you know for this post. Has anyone ever found themselves in a pay-to-show situation? What was it like? Who has been solicited by a pay-to-show gallery? Do you know of other pay-to-show galleries here or in other cities? Feel free to post anonymously if you're uncomfortable with the topic but have something to say.

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