Marketing Mondays: You’ve Been Asked to do a Commission

Steven Alexander: Meteor Beach, 2008, acrylic on four canvases, 96 x 96 inches; commissioned for the lobby of the Hines Building, Lexington Avenue, New York City

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Several MM readers have asked me to write about the commission process. I'm happy to, but I'll open this post with a caveat: Because I maintain this blog in my "spare" time and on my own dime, I'm not in a position to research every topic. Much of what I write about comes from my own experience. That's the case here.

The commission process varies widely, because there are many different kinds of commissions—everything from major corporate jobs with architect, consultant and dealer involved, to the small private project that takes place between artist and client. As an example, my buddy Steven Alexander's work, a large corporate commission, graces the top of this post. Most of my commissions have been for private collectors, and I don't want to violate their privacy by showing their work here. Not only are the kinds of commissions different, but people work differently.

Preliminary Communication
While the dealer handles the financial logistics of the commission, I like to communicate directly with the client to establish the esthetic parameters. If you are working without a dealer or consultant, you’ll need to handle the finances as well as the communication. (My terms: a 50% non-refundable deposit; the balance on delivery, with client responsible for shipping and installation costs. Other artists work in thirds: at the start, midway, and at the end.)
. I acknowledge that the client is interested in having me do the commission because she likes my esthetic, technique and material sensibility.
. I ask her to tell me what she has in mind, requesting that she show me examples of work she likes—mine and that of others.
. Interaction at this point is crucial. If I don’t think I can do the commission—if a client wants a still life, for instance—or if I think the client will be too difficult, I turn the job down. You develop a sixth sense about the personal interaction.
. To offset the "non-refundable" part, I tell her I’m willing to make two paintings so that she can choose the one she likes better. I'll make paintings that are related but different. More than once it has happened that the client (often a couple) decides to purchase the second one, too. If not, you have a painting for your inventory.
. Offering a two-painting choice really puts a client at ease—makes her feel that you're not going to foist something on her that she doesn’t want. Also, the two-painting process relieves you of some pressure in that you don’t have to put every idea into one painting. I wouldn't take this tack with a large commission, however, as the work load would be too specific and too intensive.
. If the work will need special care, let the client know upfront. You don’t want this to become an issue at the end.

Starting the Project
If I can see the space, good. If not, I ask the client to show me pictures. This not only gives me a sense of the space, but how it’s furnished.
. If a client requests that you visit her home, build that cost into your job estimate or price, particularly if it involves airline travel or significant time away from the studio.
. I encourage a client to send me swatches of colors from her home furnishings, visit or not. This is a commission, so if she wants her painting to go with the sofa, OK. But I make clear that once we agree on the palette, she must trust me to put the colors together in a way that makes a good painting, not simply an adjunct to the furniture.
. I provide a swatch palette on watercolor paper so the client can see the colors I’m using, since paint is different from the dye of her fabrics. Color adjustments can be made at this time.
. A commission is different from other artwork in that is being made for a particular client. Some artists get upset when they’re asked to work within parameters, or when the parameters are displeasing to them. If you don’t want to have to factor in the sofa, don’t take on a commission.

Getting Underway
At the beginning of the project, I usually send the client a jpeg to show her the studio setup for the commission. This is primarily to help her understand that the project is a big undertaking for me, and the painting is not something that can be whipped up in a week. It also assuages her fear that I haven’t gone on vacation with her non-refundable deposit.
. I send another Jpeg when the first painting is a little more than halfway completed.
. This is the time for the client to speak up. I ask: What do you like? What don’t you like? Is this what you were expecting? I not only pay attention to her comments about color, proportion, surface, whatever, I take notes. So if she tells me, “I love this palette,” or “I love what you’ve done so far,” if there’s a problem at the end, I can say, “At the midpoint you told me you loved it, and here’s what you said…."
. If I were doing a large project, I would ask the client to sign off on a progress report, essentially putting in writing what we’ve discussed, but because my commissions have been under $20,000, and because I’m working through a dealer, personal interaction and dealer involvement have been enough.

Toward the End
I send another J-peg. This lets the client see essentially what the painting will look like. There’s still a little flexibility here to make small changes—usually accent colors.
. Some clients ask to visit the studio. That’s fine with me. I always ask the involved gallery if they’d like to come to the studio as well

The Finished Painting
If she likes it, great. Sold.
. If she doesn’t like it, I ask her what she would like to see different and then try to incorporate her ideas into the second painting, which I have been working on more or less simultaneously but have not shown her.
. Some clients like the first painting but wish to refrain from committing until the second one is done. That’s OK with me.

The Second Painting
At the midpoint of this painting I send the client a j-peg. If she’s in love with the first one, this is usually the time when she commits to it. This allows me to take my time on the second painting and let it evolve into something that doesn’t hew to the parameters of the commission. If she wants to see the second one, I'll finish it right away.

Payment and Delivery
Because I work with dealers, they handle the contracts and the payment. But the bottom line is the non-refundable 50%. I must have my share in hand before I start the work. That money is for my materials and time--the sketches, material gathering, the back-and-forth communication with the client. Also, when clients have already paid for half a painting, their enthusiasm is likely to remain active.
. I may deliver the painting to the gallery, or the gallery may have it pickjed up, but the gallery delivers it to the client. Some dealers (typically outside New York) will install the painting for the client.
. The balance is paid to the dealer when the painting is delivered. (If you’re working on your own, this is the time to collect.)

A Note About Pricing
If I were doing a large project, particularly a project outside the scope of what I normally do, I would work up a thorough budget—cost of paint, panels, transportation, assistants, installation, and a salary for me. The moment you step outside your familiar work zone, you really need think things through. (Refer to Jackie Battenfield's The Artist's Guide for more on this matter.)
. Once you and a client agree on a price, there is no renegotiating, no discount. If you are unfamiliar with the client and you’re working without a dealer, a contract would be in order.

. If a client wishes to purchase the second painting (it has happened!), I feel a 10% or 15% “courtesy” is acceptable on the second work. The client gets a deal and you make two sales—win/win.
. If a dealer secures the commission for you, a 40% commission is appropriate (maybe 50% if they worked hard to secure the commission, or if they plan to host an unveilng party, or produce a catalog or nice brochure.) If you’re working alone, you retain the full price but you may be asked to deliver the work, to help install it—possibly having to hire help—so you’ll earn every penny. (I have worked in different ways with that non-refundable 50% deposit. One time I kept the entire deposit and dealer got most of the remainder at delivery; that was a mistake, because there was no carrot at the end. Usually the dealer and I divide the deposit up front and at the end.)
. If you are working alone, build the price of administration, delivery and installation into your final proposed price. If the client balks at this price, you can negotiate down. For instance, you could eliminate the post-painting services such as delivery and installation. This is why communication is essential. It’s also why a dealer earns her commission; she’s going to handle all that stuff.

Over to you
Readers, have you you handled commissioned projects? Please weigh in with advice, caveats and anecdotes.
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Marketing Mondays: The Art of the Trade

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The recession has done wonders for my personal art collection. I've been trading a lot lately with my artist friends. When the market was going great guns, it was hard to give up work that I knew would sell; this is how I support myself, after all. But after the market crashed and sales slowed to a crawl, trading has allowed me to make the very best of a bad economy.

Steven Alexander, with whom I recently traded a painting, thoughtfully puts the process in perspective: "Those of us who devote our lives to making art objects place a particularly high value on aesthetic experience -- and it is little bits of that experience that we trade among ourselves. It is distinctly different from buying a work, which very few artists are able to do, or from the notion of "building" a collection in any commercial sense. It is more connected to life experience, personal relationships, and shared affinities. The whole process is based on a deep and fundamental understanding of mutual respect and appreciation."

Based on my personal experience here are some observations about the art of the trade. Feel free to add your own comments to the discourse.
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Trade with your Peers
Some years ago I saw a fabulous show of work on paper by an artist with a more advanced career than mine (I'm being purposely vague). I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I proposed a trade. She looked at me as if I had six heads, all of them empty. I felt like an idiot, as well I should have. My enthusiasm got the better of my good sense.
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Offer Work in an Equal Price Range
Your quid pro quo need not be painting for painting, or sculpture for sculpture, but it needs to have a reasonably equal "street value." Surely there's some leeway with friends--but not too much.

Offer Your Best Work
This is not a yard sale, it's a trade. You want good? Give good.

If You Can't Show the Work in Person, Make a Good CD
Sounds like a no-brainer, but if you or your trading partner want to be satisfied, the J-pegs need to accurately reflect the work. Recently I selected a painting from a CD whose images were not all that great, but I knew the artist's work and palette, so I felt secure in my choice. The artist included a recent catalog of his work, so not only did it clarify any issues I might have had with the less-than-perfect Jpegs, I was delighted to have the catalog for my library.
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Create Your Own Parameters
Maybe you want to trade just work on paper? Maybe there's just one series you’re willing to trade? Maybe you want to keep things small? Then that's what you should do. Trading is fun. If you feel pressured into trading something you're prefer to keep, that's not satisfying and you shouldn’t do it.

It's OK To Say No
I have a friend whom I like, and whose work I like, but there were just a few pieces for which I was willing to give up one of my paintings. When it turned out that the ones I wanted were unavailable, that trade lost its appeal. I kind of weaseled out by not following up. I'm a forthright person, as is my friend. I should have been able to say, " I really liked paintings X, Y and Z, but without them as a choice, I'd like to postone the trade for a while."
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How Will the Work Be Exchanged?
If you're in the same studio building, no problem. If you don't live nearby and cannot arrange for a mutual dropoff, send it via a carrier of your choosing. You pay for sending yours; she pays for sending hers.

Where's the Dealer in All of This?
To be honest, I haven't brought up the subject with the dealers I work with. I'm not hiding anything. No money has changed hands. As Alexander notes, this is a personal connection between two people with shared affinities, not about making money.
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Do You Need Paperwork?
I know everyone I've traded with, so paperwork has seemed unnecessary. If you feel the need for it, bring up the subject with your trading partner. If the two of you agree to provide an invoice of exchange, or whatever, you should probably be the one to initiate any paperwork since it's your idea.
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Bartering for Professional Services
This is a different ballgame. Instead of trading for fun, you’re bartering for need. I bartered for legal help once, and it was a wonderful experience. The attorney had a wall full of good art, and he understood the quid pro quo. I also know artists who have traded for dental work. Regular bartering for professional services will probably plunge you into IRS waters. This may be where paperwork is worth doing. Who has experience and advice here?

Related: Painter Antonio Puri has created an exhibition project called Art 4 Barter. No money changes hands. The exhibiting artists list the items or services they'd like to receive in exchange for their work. Indeed, Puri often trades his artwork for the gallery space in which to hold the exhibition.

Over to You
Have you traded work? Do you have any stories, comments, advice?.
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What I Saw This Summer, Part 4: Studio Visits with Pam Farrell and Steven Alexander

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I'm cheating with this post. I actually visited these studios in the spring. But both artists, Pam Farrell and Steven Alexander, are doing such interesting work and I'm not sure when I'll get back their way again--west of Manhattan in New Jersey and Pennsylvania-- that I decided to include them in this summer series. Besides, spring stretched all the way into July this year. .

Pam Farrell teeters between landscape and abstraction, a ground that's rich with visual expression

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We start in Flemington, New Jersey, at the studio of Pam Farrell. One of the things about studios outside the City is that artists tend to own rather than rent. Farrell recently built a shedlike structure behind her house. It looks small from the outside, but it's surprisingly capacious within. Farrell has been painting nonstop since she moved in--perhaps in response to the freedom this new space offers after having worked in what she referred to as a "nun's cell" in the attic of her home.
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That might account for the glorious palette, too. Normally she works in darker hues (indeed, she's in a group exhibition, The Dark Show, that just opened in Philly). There's a landscape quality to her work--sometimes more, sometimes less--with a tangible surface that comes courtesy of encaustic. You can see more at the Ruth Morpeth Gallery where she is represented, and on her P Farrell Art Blog.
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Another view of Pam's painting wall with a different work
A detail of The painting wall, below

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The worktable with heating devices to keep Farrell's wax paints molten

The studio, below, with the artist in motion on the little deck

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Now we drive about 100 miles north and slightly west of Pam Farrell's studio to visit Steven Alexander in Dalton, Pennsylvania, just outside of Scranton. Alexander lives with his family in the country in a contemporary home that he and his wife, Laura, designed and built. The ground floor, which opens to the back yard, is his studio. It's a large, well-lighted and column-free space that offers plenty of room to work.

Despite the demands of full-time teaching and family responsibilities, Alexander is amazingly prolific. His paintings are geometrically composed and chromatically dramatic. The formal compositions of rectangular shapes allow the color to carry the work. Whether he paints in series (as with the small square paintings shown below) or in a larger format where each painting has its own compositional identity, shifts in hue and in color relationships are the heart of the work. Alexander works in acrylic in a way that looks like encaustic--optically and physically substantial, with a luminosity that comes from the refraction of color through layers of medium (all those gallon containers surrounding his worktable, below).
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And did I mention he blogs, too? His Steven Alexander Journal offers thoughtful and insightful comments about what he sees on his regular visits into New York.
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. We start with the far wall of the studio and pan the wall, below, where we find the artist (well, I asked him to pose with his work)
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The small paintings you begin to see on the right wall are better viewed below:
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Continuing along the wall above, we come to the corner, below. Here, two new works propped against the wall show you the new direction in Alexander's work: a large central field that has pushed the other compositional elements to the edges

 

See that bit of color on the floor? There's a larger area of it just out of view. Alexander works flat for much of his process, and the floor receives all the paint that's squeegee-d and dripped off the canvas
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Next "What I Saw" installment: Art and Life in Washington County, New York

Blogpix, The Show

Marketing Mondays will return to its regularly scheduled slot next week

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Click here for first Blogpix post

Click here for first Armory post, Show Me the Money

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Today and this week, I'll be posting pics from the Blogpix panel and reports from the various New York fairs.
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If you didn't attend the Blogpix opening, below is your first look at the show. I took these installation shots before the artists and their curators arrived for the opening on Thursday evening, March 5, at Denise Bibro's Platform Project Space. Denise, Almitra Stanley and the awesome Olympia Lambert, organizer of the show, installed the show wonderfully.

The opening itself has been posted on Vernissage TV.

It's also been picked by Art Cat and reviewed on NYC Art

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Let's enter the gallery and look left, shall we?
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From left: two by Julie Karabenick; two by Ben La Rocco (more below); and two (and a fraction) by Steven Alexander
Karabenick: Curator, Mattera

La Rocco: Curator, Vartanian

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. Continuing around: Steven Alexander's large painting, The Primrose Path; a bay of small paintings on panel by Sharon Butler (see below) and framed paintings on paper by Christopher Davison
Alexander and Butler: Curator, Mattera
Davison: Curators, Roberta Fallon & Libby Rosof
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. Above: Cosmically inflected geometry by Ben La Rocco in the alcove
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Below: Continuing around clockwise, Steven Alexander and a better view of Sharon Butler's five angular abstractions.

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Continuing around the gallery: Christopher Davison's mysterious dark narratives and his stuffed sculpture; Reese Inman's scintillating mathematical geometry (closer view at bottom)
Inman: Curator, Mattera
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Below: we swing around visually past the gallery entrance and end where we started, with Julie Karabenick's energetic grids


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Reese's paintings open the video on Vernissage TV, so I'll end this post here
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Blogpix at Platform Project Space

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After several months in the planning, blogpix opens tomorrow night, Thursday, March 5, in New York City at Platform Project Space . All the info is on the sidebar at right, and on the Platform website, including information about the artists (Steven Alexander, Sharon Butler, Christopher Davison, Reese Inman, Julie Karabenick and Ben LaRocco) ; the curators (Roberta Fallon and Libby Rosof, Hrag Vartanian, and myself); the organizer, Olympia Lambert, and the gallery, Denise Bibro Fine Art, whose Platform Project Space is hosting the event.
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So here, let me just show you a few artists' images:

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Reese Inman, Remix III, 2009 (curator: Mattera); Christopher Davison, Black and White Sculpture, 2006 (curators: Fallon and Rosof)

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Julie Karabenick, Composition 76, 2008; Steven Alexander, The Primrose Path, 2007 (curator: Mattera)

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Ben La Rocco, Void, 2009 (curator: Vartanian); Sharon Butler, Siding 3, 2008 (curator: Mattera)

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I made my curatorial choices based on the theme of the show, which is the blogosphere, cyberspace, and the whole concept of ones and zeros. Reese Inman creates algorithms that the computer uses to produce the dot matrix of her paintings. Julie Karabenick uses the computer to develop her perfectly calibrated geometric compositions (she's also the founder and editor of Geoform, an online curatorial project focuses on geometric abstraction). Steven Alexander and Sharon Butler have embraced blogging as part of their creative practice. While Steven's online Journal offers his thoughtful observations about painting --his own and others'--Sharon's Two Coats of Paint is a digest of reviews and articles on the topic from all over. I like that together they form a kind of yin and yang coverage.

And did I mention that I's completely in love with the painting of all four of these artists?

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I'm curious to hear what drove the curatorial selections of my colleagues, and I'm eager to see more. I'll find out at the Thursday opening and the Saturday Blogpix panel discussion, and you can, too. If you're in New York City, getcher butt on down.

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If you're not in the neighborhood, I'll be posting installation shots, people pics from the exhibition, and a report on the Saturday panel--so check back over the next few days.

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And did I mention that I have work at the Bridge Fair, which is part of the fair week offerings in New York? I'll be at the opening on Thursday night after Blogpix, around 9:00 pm. Info about and links are also on the sidebar right. I'll have work with DM Contemporary (Booth 28). The fair runs through Sunday.

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Awash in Color: Roy G. Biv and Friends

Philipp Otto Runge's Farbenkugel

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I came across this nice post about color wheels and globes in Steven La Rose's blog. He showed a great image and provided a link to a German-language site about historical color systems which I followed, thinking I'd pull a different image for this post. Well, Steven selected the best one. And I'm not going to settle for second best, so I've pulled the same one. I love how the artist conceived the color wheel as a globe, with the true colors at the equator moving toward tints and tones at the poles.

Here are a few others images:

Two color pyramids: Tobias Mayer's Farbendreieck, above

Johann Henrich Lambert's Farbenpyramide, below, tints you dimensionally toward white as the pyramid reaches its apex

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Wilhelm von Bezold's Farbentafel is more conventional, but still quite lovely

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While we're talking Roy G. Biv, let me show you images of several contemporary artists for whom color is the primary element: Steven Alexander from Pensylvania, Kate Beck from Maine, and Rose Olson from Massachusetts. Consummate colorists all, whatever theory they learned was absorbed long ago, and what emerges now is its pure intuitive application. (See more on their own websites and blogs, accessed by the live link on their names.)

Steven Alexander, Slave To Love, 2007, acrylic on canvas, 72 x 54 inches

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Kate Beck, Canyon. Red, oil on canvas, 46 x 46 inches

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Rose Olson, Falling Sky, 2005, acrylic on bird's eye maple plywood, 35 x 22 inches

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What, and you thought I wouldn't include my own work here? Roy G. Biv is a close buddy of mine, too. These are two new small paintings from "Silk Road," an ongoing series of small grid-based color fields. I wrote about "Silk Road" in my first post for this blog. The work has developed incrementally over time, but my thoughts about it have not. It's always about hue.

Joanne Mattera, Silk Road 106, above, and Silk Road 103, below; both 2008, encaustic on panel, 12 x 12 inches

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