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Finding your audience

Marketing art is about being as visible and transparent as you can tolerate.
Electric Glide, by Carol L. Douglas

ā€œAny thoughts you ever have on who might be interested in what I do, either gallery-wise, or direct buyer-wise, I’m all ears,ā€ a reader commented on a recent post about finding your audience. I know this painter, but she lives in Colorado and I donā€™t know her market. I do know sheā€™s already taking the first step Iā€™d recommend: applying to plein airevents to get herself noticed.

What does ā€˜marketingā€™ mean?
  • Getting your paintings seen by an audience;
  • Keeping that audience engaged with your process via regular communication;
  • Inviting them to your events.

Put that way, itā€™s not so daunting, is it? But expect to work half your workday at this marketing gigā€”first by studying how it works, and then by implementing what youā€™ve learned.
Dry Wash, by Carol L. Douglas
For example, although Iā€™ve had an Instagram account for several years, I only recently figured out how it actually works. I learned that by listening to webinars and my friend Bobbi Heath.
An artist canā€™t have too many friends. Often, the sale is less about what you know than who you know.
Still, can you talk comfortably about specific pieces of your work? Your inspiration and process? This self-knowledge is critical to selling your own work. Hereā€™s a test: ask your best friend about what it is that you do all day. If he or she canā€™t answer, then maybe you need to start talking about your process more.
Cape Elizabeth Cliffs, by Carol L. Douglas
Everyone has an audience, and it started with your family. Just as your social circle grew in concentric circles from them, so too does your audience start with close friends and family. Your friends on Facebook and your followers on Instagram are your first audience. You need to connect with them regularly about your art. From that, your audience will grow as naturally as your circle of friends did when you were a child.
Your posts in all media should be designed to show a ā€˜wholeā€™ youā€”not just your finished paintings. Your studio, your town, your brushes, your gaffes all combine for a total picture of you as an artist. Be as transparent as you have the nerve to be.
Tricky Mary in a Pea Soup Fog, by Carol L. Douglas
And update your website, or make one if you donā€™t already have one. Thatā€™s your business-card to the Web, and it must be as beautiful and inviting as you can make it. It doesnā€™t have to be exhaustive. It should include a bio/CV, artist statement, images of your work, and contact information.
Only then are you ready to approach a bricks-and-mortar gallery, because the first thing theyā€™re going to do is look up who you are on the Internet.
As for what galleries you should approach, that requires legwork. Make a habit of visiting galleries in your area to check out the work they sell. Get to know the gallerists. Approach only those that seem like a good fit. And donā€™t be afraid of rejection; there are many reasons galleries wonā€™t take you that have nothing to do with your work.
Tom Sawyer’s Fence, by Carol L. Douglas
At the beginning, I said that my reader is already applying for plein air shows. Theyā€™re a great way to be seen by a wider audience. So too are art festivals and juried shows. Apply to as many as you can tolerate.
Hereā€™s a final bit of advice from my pal Bruce McMillan: ā€œI tell my students in my children’s book class that the way to deal with rejection when submitting a manuscript is to assume it’s going to be rejected. That way you’re never disappointed. And while it’s away, get the next place lined up that will reject it.ā€

Check out my new website

Go ahead, look at it. It will be fun.
I have needed to update my website for several years. The minion who built my last one grew up and got married. Finding a capable, willing replacement has been tough.
But here it is, and Iā€™d appreciate your finding lots of little things for me to fix. That way, Iā€™ll be so facile at updating it that I will never let it get out-of-date again.
After this year’s auction, I’ll add a page of painted buoys. Just because.
The problem with living in a household of programmers is that itā€™s generally easier for them to do it themselves rather than teach you. They spurn graphics-based software, and they frequently lapse  into acronyms.
Iā€™m a retired graphic designer, and Iā€™ve always been good with computers. But I was routinely pipped at the post, mostly by the size and complexity of the project.
If I’d had more time, I’d have included more images of painting with friends.
I can write, I can paint, and I can design, but I can’t do them all simultaneously. Forget multitasking; I get hopelessly confused. Add to that years of incremental changes, and itā€™s more than I can handle.
For example, I have more than 3,000 painting and blog images online. They started in another blog platformed, jumped to Picasa, and have been rolled into Google+. Itā€™s no longer simple to sort them. My links are a swaying footbridge that I barely trust.
My programmer family believes this is all the information anyone needs to design a website. Turns out they’re right.
There are a few other things I need to fix. Not all the pages on this new site are scalable to all devices. And I still havenā€™t figured out how to make my blog feed on the home page stay neatly in a little box. But overall, it’s a lot better. I hope you enjoy it.
Let me know if youā€™re interested in painting with me on the Schoodic Peninsula in beautiful Acadia National Park in August 2015. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops! Download a brochure here.

Iā€™ve been looking forward to this!

My website is online as of today. Itā€™s not a finished piece of work, and has been beset with difficulties, including a hijacked URL, but here it is:
The website has an RSS feed from this blog, so I went back and captured an image of it with this post repeating itself. Call this an inspiration from childhood, from visiting Lucas Samarasā€™ ā€œRoom No.2ā€ (popularly known as the mirrored room) at the Albright-Knox and studying my endless reflections.

One of Lucas Samaras’ reflecting rooms, sans me.
The web designer isnā€™t totally finished, so she doesn’t want herself tagged, but sheā€™s doing an awesome job!