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Tag: business of art

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Like the Left Bank, but with snow

Skylarking II, 18×24, oil on linen, $1855, includes shipping in the continental US.

A few weeks ago, Rachel Houlihan mentioned in one of my classes that she and another artist had run into me along the trail. “How many artists live near you?” another student marveled.

“Oh, lots,” she said. “Thousands. Many well-known ones,” and she proceeded list some of them. It’s true that you can’t throw a stick around here without hitting an artist (or attracting a dog).

I was reminded of this when walking nearby with Richard, a retired architect. “That’s the home of the actor Gabriel Byrne,” he said. (A few years ago, several people sent me this piece about him in the New York Times; I knew the locale intimately, but I still don’t know who Mr. Byrne is. His secret is safe with me.) It’s an arty place, and painting is only one aspect of it.

Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36 $3188 includes shipping in continental US.

The best business decision I ever made

“What was the best business decision you ever made?” I was asked at the Sedona Entrepreneurial Artist Development Program. That was a no-brainer: it was to relocate to an artist community. In my case, that is coastal Maine, but in yours, it might be Santa Fe, NM; Sedona, AZ; Fredericksburg, Texas; Des Moines, IA; or another community I’ve never heard of.

People are often drawn to an artist community—as I was—by the light, beauty, galleries, and the art scene, but there is always more to it. The more concentrated the art scene is, the more likely the work is to be directed towards a stylistic or thematic ideal. That’s how ‘schools’ of art develop. Iron sharpens iron, which means our own work gets stronger when we spark ideas off others.

Of course, you can seek community wherever you live, by working with the best artists you can find: at figure groups, plein air groups, ateliers and art associations. And five years of Zoom teaching has shown me how well the internet creates relationships between artists across the globe.

Skylarking, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

My mutual support system

I have three peers I communicate with almost daily (and paint with as much as possible). They’re among the few people to whom I’ll complain about not getting into a show or about the disappointment of a selling price at an auction—or who will congratulate me when things go well.

I can also ask them for constructive feedback because I trust them. And I suppose if I really needed someone to walk my dog, they’d do that for me too; I’d certainly do it for them.

More importantly, there’s a sense of accountability with them. If I’m in a slump, they drag me out of it, and I try to do the same for them. And even in the snowiest of winter months, I don’t feel totally isolated.

Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed.

Networking

I loathe the word networking, but the fact remains that living in an artist community means more opportunities to connect with art collectors, gallery owners, and industry professionals. It means more events, open studios, galleries and shows.

There also tend to be residencies, workshops, and mentorships in places where artists congregate.

This spring’s painting classes

Zoom Class: Advance your painting skills (whoops, the link was wrong in last week’s posts)

Mondays, 6 PM – 9 PM EST
April 28 to June 9

Advance your skills in oils, watercolor, gouache, acrylics and pastels with guided exercises in design, composition and execution.

This Zoom class not only has tailored instruction, it provides a supportive community where students share work and get positive feedback in an encouraging and collaborative space. 

Zoom class: Signature series

Tuesdays, 6 PM – 9 PM EST
April 29-June 10

This is a combination painting/critique class where students will take deep dives into finding their unique voices as artists, in an encouraging and collaborative space. The goal is to develop a nucleus of work as a springboard for further development.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: how can I sell my art?

Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

One of the questions I’m asked most frequently is, how can I sell my art? The answer is different for each person, but it always requires a shift in outlook. We artists create work that’s specifically from our mindset. However, selling art is no different from any other sales. It’s not about us, but about the customer.

Sales is about showing how our product effectively addresses our customer’s needs. It means building a relationship with the customer and addressing his or her concerns. That two-way communication may be transient or evolve over a long period of time. 

Your customer may want to beautify a space, prove something to himself or others, engage with the artwork on an intellectual level, or even just match his wallpaper. All are perfectly valid reasons to buy a painting.

Early Morning at Moon Lake, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Do you have a strong, consistent body of work?

Your work should be constantly evolving; if not, you’re probably just parodying yourself. Still, you should have a strong, consistent line of development. Somewhere online you should have a portfolio showcasing your best work. This presence needn’t be elaborate or expensive; a free blog host might be sufficient if you’re just starting out. It shouldn’t be scattershot—nobody wants to see your poetry, hand-embroidery, pottery and recipes if you’re trying to sell paintings.

Your website should have a reasonably complete bio and you should have a brief artist’s statement available. You will be asked for it.

Pensive 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Selling in bricks and mortar galleries and stores

Are galleries dead? Certainly not, although they’ve drifted sideways in the past few years. I particularly like well-run cooperative galleries.

The day of cold-calling with a portfolio under your arm is (thank goodness) over. Start by thoroughly researching the gallery’s current exhibitions and artists, including visiting if possible. The gallery’s website may have explicit application instructions, which simplify matters. If not, prepare a cover letter, an artist statement, and a portfolio (with links to the work online and to your social media), and send them by email.  If you don’t hear back, follow up by phone after a reasonable time has elapsed.

But coffee shops, restaurants, and offices may actually sell more work, and often charge no commission at all. Besides my own gallery, I have work in a dental office and a realtor’s office; the realtor has used my work to stage property. The more my work is seen, the higher my profile.

Selling online

If I were starting today, I’d use FASO; Eric Jacobsen, Poppy Balser, and many of my other friends are on it. It’s commerce-enabled and will scale up as you grow. I have known artists who’ve auctioned their work on eBay, but I think that needs a high profile to start with.

Spring Allee, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1594.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Social Media

Regardless of how you plan to sell, you’ll need to make a truce with social media. I like LinkedIn and Instagram best right now, followed by Facebook, but I do post on all available social media several times a week.

This is a constantly-shifting landscape, so keep your options open. My student and friend Cheryl Shanahan is fantastic at witty reels, and I want to be more like her. Since we’re apparently keeping TikTok, it’s time to loosen up that part of my brain.

Art fairs

I’ve done art fairs from St. Louis, MO to New York City. They’re a lot of work setting up and tearing down, so I’ve aged out of them. Their great advantage is that once you’ve paid the booth fee (which can be steep) the profits are all yours.

If you do them, diversify your merchandise. For painters, that means offering prints of your work along with originals. Many people attending these events don’t really want to spend $2000 on original art, but they will spring for a nice print.

(I’m thinking about these things because I leave on Friday to present at the Sedona Entrepreneurial Artist Development Program. After that, I’m teaching a workshop, below. There are still some openings, if you’d like to join me.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: how to photograph paintings when you’re comically inept like me

The only photo I took last week that filled me with unalloyed joy was this tiny 4X6 of a baby spruce tree. Color, check. Exposure, check.

I am fairly incompetent when it comes to photographing my own work. It’s not from lack of equipment—I have a Nikon D750 digital SLR camera, photofloods, and a Slik tripod that’s so heavy I ought to be able to break my toe before I set my camera vibrating.

It’s the combination of cameras and the ego involvement of my own work that does me in. I exited the film age by tripping over a tripod while prepping a batch of slides for a show submission. Well, that camera was almost obsolete anyway.

Meanwhile, I watch my peers casually lean paintings against trees and shoot perfect images, while I struggle to remember to do it at all.

At any rate, here’s what I know about how to photograph paintings; I’ll try to practice what I preach.

A good cell phone can take a better photo than a bad DSLR, but more importantly, sometimes a cell phone is all you have at hand.

Exposure is OK, color is off, and it looks blurry to me. I painted this while discussing Proust with BjĂśrn Runquist.

Don’t shoot your photos when you’re exhausted.

I don’t do anything well when I’m hot, tired, up against a deadline and thirsty. My resolution for 2025 is to photograph things calmly and when there’s still gas in my tank.

Oil painters have an additional complication in that impasto doesn’t always look great when it’s wet; it can be overly reflective. If there’s time to let it dry, that’s an advantage. But when something has been painted for an event, that’s a luxury you might not have.

Shoot your work parallel to the camera lens.

If you can hang your work on a wall, that’s perfect. If you can leave it on an easel pointing straight up and down, that’s about the same, and more practical. Failing that, you want the picture plane to be parallel to the camera lens, so that all four corners of the painting are the same distance from the lens. That results in minimal distortion.

Yes, you can ease some of that distortion in photo editing software, but you can’t do it perfectly, and there are times (like on the ocean’s horizon, or in perspective) when it matters. 

By attempting to fix the bad exposure, I messed up the color relationships, and there went what I liked about this painting. Oops.

Light your work evenly

Guidebooks will tell you to use indirect natural light, but where I live that’s usually too blue. Also, it’s cold outside, and no number of windows cast even light indoors. I use two photofloods at 45-degree angles to my work, and they cast very even, natural light across my paintings.

If you don’t have photofloods, you can rig up paper or fabric screens in front of LED bulbs.

I’ve learned two things the hard way: make sure any shades behind your subject are closed and make sure that any brightly-colored objects in the room are not casting reflected color onto your painting.

Don’t zoom in too close

If you do, you’re in danger of getting fish-eye, especially with a cell phone. Phones and cameras are such high resolution now that you don’t need to worry about every pixel.

I’ve decided to make reshooting this painting my life’s work. It’s such a good painting and for some reason so difficult to get a good shot of.

Don’t use autoexposure

If you let your cell phone or camera choose an exposure for you, you are unlikely to love the results. On my cell phone, I take a couple different exposures and hope for the best. (Ask the internet if you don’t know how to do this for your phone.) On my camera, I auto-bracket.

You don’t need any great depth of field to photograph a painting. If you have a DSLR, set it for a larger f-stop (like f3.5, 2.8, or 1.4). That will give you a faster shutter. That’s the mistake I made on Friday that gave me blurry photos and why I’ll be reshooting all these pictures today. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Once you’ve got an accurate exposure, don’t go into your editing software and autocorrect the levels. Paintings do not generally have 100% blacks and 0% whites, but autocorrection puts those in, as well as averaging out all the values to look like everything else. Who needs that?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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How to negotiate when you sell paintings

All Flesh is as Grass, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

The Maine coast gets its share of mega-yachts and the people who inhabit them. A former gallerist of mine once had a visitor who made sure to mention the fabled locations in which his second or third homes were located. He seemed very interested, but didn’t bite on any paintings. The next day, he came by and said, “Let’s see how hungry your artists are this morning.” That man needed a stake driven through his heart.

With the notable exception of Frederic Church, most artists are not noted for business acumen. (If they were primarily motivated by money, they’d do something other than sell paintings.) In 2023, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the 2023 median wage for a fine artist in the US was $52,910 per year. Those of us who are self-employed (almost all of us) provide our own insurance and retirement savings.

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

That makes it easy to pressure an artist for a discount, but the question is whether you should. That’s doubly true if you’re negotiating through a non-profit. You’re also trimming proceeds for the organization.

Negotiation is the key to a happy life

I once did a show with a painter who asked, “Would you ask the telephone company to take 10% off your bill? Your dentist? Your plumber?” Well, actually, we do ask for discounts, all the time. It’s really no different when we sell paintings.

Art buyers, like everyone else, want to think they’re getting their money’s worth. Appearances can be deceiving. They may be driving a nice car but not have much loose cash. Asking for a discount is perfectly reasonable, but so is saying no.

On either side of this discussion, you can’t invest the process with something it’s not. It’s not a hunt to beat down the price; nor is it any kind of validation of the artist’s work.

Winter lambing, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Listen more than you talk

Some days I wish I’d just shut up. A good life lesson in any situation is to remember that communication is a two-way street. It’s not necessary to answer every objection or comment. If you give people enough time, they’ll probably understand your position on their own.

Is it really worth it to stand your ground?

The last time I was asked to cut a price, I did it but wasn’t thrilled. Then I sat down with my pencil and realized that my net out-of-pocket was $45 (it was a gallery sale). It would have been absurd to walk away from a sale for pin money, but my first response was emotional, not intellectual.

On the other hand, it’s also OK to say no

Some offers are so absurd that you don’t even need to think about them. Some are more difficult to parse, and it helps to do a little seat-of-the-pants math. If nothing else, it buys you time to think. If a person is set on not spending more than X, I may steer them towards something they can afford. But if it becomes clear that there’s no middle ground, I just smile and wish them well.

The Harvest is Plenty, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

A word about payment

I accept Square and Paypal when I sell paintings because we live in a cashless society. Part of the reason for their high fees is that they offer some protection against the many scams targeted at artists. I only accept checks in person or from people I know well. And, yes, I will let people buy paintings on layaway; it is a great option for the sincere collector who has limited resources.

Do you believe in the quality of your work?

Thomas Kinkade once bet a million dollars that his work would be featured in a major museum. That’s not confident; that’s delusional. However, most artists I know—including some absolutely brilliant painters—tend to be hypercritical of their own work. That’s not fair, either.

Yes, we all have bad days, but if you don’t recognize the quality of your work, who will? I don’t think “fake it ‘til you make it” works with self-confidence. If deep down you really think you don’t deserve to sell paintings, you won’t sell paintings.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Sell your work like the luxury good it is

Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

On Wednesday, I asked, “If an idea is so easily interchangeable that anyone can do it, what is the value of the brand itself?” In response, my friend and student Sandy Sibley sent me this article, in which fashion editor Katharine K. Zarrella calls out luxury fashion for its decline in quality and exclusivity.

She criticizes luxury brands for shifting focus from craftsmanship to profit, fueled by social media-driven consumerism, celebrity endorsements, and ‘buy now, pay later’ schemes. These have made luxury items ubiquitous, less exclusive, and often shoddy.

Zarrella argues that luxury is in a death spiral, with some companies reducing prices, selling through outlets, or racking up losses. She encourages consumers to reject overpriced, low-quality goods in favor of more meaningful purchases.

This may be luxury fashion’s loss, but it’s the artisan’s gain.

Winter lambing, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Are paintings luxury goods?

“I’m not sure I would consider fine art as luxury goods,” mused Bobbi Heath, “but that’s probably because I value paintings way, way more than handbags and shoes and perfume.” Well, me too, but that doesn’t mean fine art doesn’t meet the economic definition of a luxury good:

  • Luxury goods see an increase in demand that is proportionally greater than the increase in income. As people’s incomes rise, the demand for luxury goods increases at a faster rate.
  • Luxury goods are not necessities; they are purchased to enhance one’s standard of living, prestige, or personal satisfaction.
  • Luxury goods are expensive compared to their non-luxury equivalents.
  • Luxury goods are seen as a superior product or status symbol.

Oddly, while the best of fine crafts have always been considered luxury goods, fine art isn’t usually called by that name. Until the modern era, painting served practical purposes as well as aesthetic ones. But try thinking of your fine artwork as a luxury good, and see how that affects your marketing.

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Pricing and selling art

My student has made a careful study of what the art market in his rural area will bear. He prices his work accordingly. Prestigious galleries take the opposite approach, choosing swank locations in which to sell extremely expensive paintings. (The current correction in the high-end art market may reflect the same problems that Zarrella pointed out in the fashion industry.) There are, of course, thousands of examples in between these two extremes. Nobody but you can determine exactly where you should fall.

Ralph Waldo Emerson is reputed to have said, “Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door.” That’s never been true. Selling anything, but particularly paintings, is all about brand recognition. Get your name out there by participating in shows, using social media and advertising, and then worry about pricing.

All Flesh is as Grass, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

In every situation, it makes sense to market your work in the slickest way you can, in clean, well-ordered spaces and with on-trend frames.

Luxury goods are not sold by discounting. Instead, focus on creating a compelling brand, providing exceptional customer service, emphasizing exclusivity and quality, targeting the right audience, and offering personalized experiences to cultivate a sense of prestige and value around your work.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Art heist, and this one was personal

The one that got away–Lauren Hammond’s color exercise, 9X12, that walked from our Berkshires workshop.

Last week I taught a delightful workshop in the Berkshires. I had demonstrated optical mixing (or broken color), and Lauren Hammond worked hard to execute the concept. Her finished painting was so lovely that I took a photo of it. She set it on the ground while she started something else. Thinking I knew better, I moved it to a nearby table so she didn’t inadvertently step on it. Our group was spread out over many acres, so most of the time, Lauren was alone at her easel.

“I think someone stole my painting!” she texted me. In decades of teaching, the closest I’ve ever come to that was when Sue Leo’s camera was lifted in Rochester’s Mount Hope Cemetery. But Mount Hope is near a sketchy neighborhood in a crime-ridden city. Lauren was in a place where I wouldn’t think twice about leaving my car unlocked.

“She’s just overlooking it,” I told myself, and I went back to help her find it. Other students helped us look and the venue manager contacted all her employees, all to no avail. It was gone. Lauren was the victim of an art heist.

The end of the evidence trail. I photographed it and then cleaned up the mess.

I’m an inveterate reader of mysteries, so I hunted for clues. Aha, I thought, here’s one—a painting imprint on another nearby table. But that, sadly, was where the trail ended. I’m no Miss Marple.

People have posited various alternative theories to me. Perhaps it was mistaken for garbage and thrown away. Perhaps they thought it was left there for someone else to take (as in the Acts of Kindness movement). Perhaps it blew away. Because I saw the scene of the crime, I can tell you with absolute assurance that none of these things happened.

Art heist losses are hard to estimate but they’re estimated at around $4-6 billion US per year. Money laundering in the art market is an even bigger problem. In comparison, Lauren’s painting is a drop in a very big bucket. But I take it personally.

Let this be a lesson to you.

Even the safest painting sites need just one bad person to cause trouble, and there are many worse outcomes than losing a painting. Be in the zone but be aware of what’s going on around you. If you’re at all in doubt, paint in pairs. I’ve painted all over the world and never had a problem, but then again I’ve never had a student’s painting stolen either.

Why you shouldn’t steal paintings. Really.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you already know this, but humor me. Stealing art is rotten because:

  1. The artist put time, effort, and years of training into creating that work. It’s no different from any other tangible object with value;
  2. Stealing a painting deprives others of the opportunity to experience the work;
  3. Stealing is a crime that usually affects the little guys. We’ve abolished hanging as the punishment for theft, but I sure do understand why stealing riled up our ancestors;
  4. Paintings are personal, so stealing one is personal, too.

But I would never do that!

Photographers are people too, so the next time you’re tempted to use someone else’s online photo as reference for your painting, consider their property rights. Go outside and shoot your own reference picture. If that’s impossible, check Creative Commons for open-access images.

Lauren’s last painting of the workshop. Nice broken color, more challenging design.

All’s well that ends well

My goal on the last day was to encourage Lauren to paint something even stronger than the one that got away. I think she did so. It’s more complex and adventurous in design, but the color is just as well-executed.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: what is a fine art print?

Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US.

This past weekend, I sat down with a pencil and a template and signed and numbered 75 prints of Early Spring on Beech Hill for Coastal Mountains Land Trust. I’m happy to do this little thing; I’m on their properties almost daily. If I’m not up Beech Hill, I’m on Ragged or Bald Mountains. If you look at a list of their preserves, you realize how much they shape everyday life here in midcoast Maine.

Back in the day, I sold a lot of prints. They are a great way for people of modest means to start collecting art, and they can introduce young people to your work.

Signing work with a template. If you think you can’t misspell your own name, try writing it over and over again.

What is a fine art print?

A fine art print is a high-quality reproduction of an original artwork. There’s overlap between fine art prints and the art of printmaking. For example, until the turn of the last century, etching was both an artform and a way to reproduce other artwork for publication.

The gap between fine art prints and what you can get from your ink-jet printer has narrowed. Even the cheapest art book published in this century has better illustrations than an old Janson’s History of Art, which was once the preferred text for art history classes.

The goal being to handle the paper as little as possible, I used a paint stirrer to push the pieces in place inside their acrylic sleeve.

Fine art prints are made with an eye to durability, color accuracy, and aesthetic integrity. They are often produced in limited editions and signed and numbered by the artist. The main printing methods for fine art prints include:

  • GiclĂŠe Printing: This is the most common method of making small-run art prints. GiclĂŠe printers have higher resolution than standard inkjet printers, and use a 12-color printing system instead of the standard 4-color CMYK system. They use high-quality inks that can last a lifetime, and the prints are resistant to damage from smudging, sun, and humidity.
  • Commercial Lithography: That’s the traditional printing process used in bookmaking and periodicals, and is done on an offset press. It’s suitable for mass runs, so if you were to buy a print of, say, Constable’s The Hay Wain from the National Gallery it would be made in this manner.
  • Screen printing, where ink is pushed through a mesh screen onto paper or canvas. This is how you’d reproduce your paintings on textiles, pens, coffee mugs, or huge signs, if you were so inclined.
Seventy-five prints signed and ready to rumble.

Limited edition prints

Collectors often seek out limited edition prints due to their rarity and because they might appreciate in value. There is no difference in quality between the limited edition print and its open-run cousin; the value rests in the artist’s signature. For example, I can never make another limited-edition run of Early Spring on Beech Hill, because I’ve already done a set run of 75 copies.

The quality question

My color laser printer does a fine job of printing, and with the proper paper its output would be highly durable, but I wouldn’t use it for high-end prints; it’s too small and there are visible differences in quality. There are many sources online for archival-quality giclée prints at a reasonable price.

Most of the quality of your print rests in the photography, not the printing. In the past, I’ve had my paintings shot by a service, but I now have a high-end camera. If you go that route, however, you need to understand color correction, compression, and other issues that affect output.

Should you sell prints?

That’s a question only you can answer. Prints can increase your market reach and give you a more consistent revenue stream. If your print becomes popular, it can generate revenue over time.

However, there’s still the initial investment of time and money to consider. And you never get away from marketing. Prints are an already-saturated market, although a much larger one than the market for original paintings.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Why I teach

Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This is one of the places we go during our July workshop.

With some trepidation, I handed Monday’s Words and Pictures class over to my student Rebecca Bense. She led us in an impromptu neurographic art exercise. I know, love and trust Becky, but I’ve had enough therapy to be guarded about diving into my subconscious. By the end of the exercise, I thought it was a good way to dig deeper into the meaning of art. And, since I seemed to have drawn a hag-ridden self-portrait (below) I was startled by the result.

My first essay into neurographic art. I know it’s a self-portrait because of the corkscrew curl. Yikes.

Monday’s class is a very small group, and I’m teaching it because the content is important to me. If I used the customary pedagogical method and chased around questioning and critiquing, nobody would have a moment’s peace. Instead, I’m developing ideas with, rather than for, the class. It’s fantastic fun for me, and I think I’ll probably learn something new about teaching.

A teacher is first a learner

I didn’t really have mastery of my craft until I learned to break it down in discrete steps and describe it to others. After all, that is what school is all about: repeating what one has learned. Not every artist is a good teacher; I know some very fine painters who are inarticulate. But when teaching is going well, it’s a two-way street. I’m constantly surprised and amazed by what I learn from my students, as Monday’s class demonstrated.

Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US. This is a favorite place to teach and paint.

 Why does anyone teach?

The obvious answer is that teaching provides a steadier income than just selling paintings, which can be a ‘canary in a coalmine’ career—great when the market is up, dismal when it’s down. But nobody survives teaching if their motivations don’t run deeper. “Because you like telling people what to do,” my smart-aleck daughter suggested. That’s probably partly true.

Good teaching is akin to preaching. They both require a belief in and passion for the subject. Building on that, you harness communication skills, technical ability, and human connection, but they’re all secondary to that passion.

Blueberry barrens, Clary Hill, oil on canvas, 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

True relationships

After a few decades of teaching and writing about painting, I’ve shared a lot about my life. My students have done the same. If a painter takes one of my online classes, they’re signing up for 18 hours of ensemble learning. If they take one of my workshops, it’s a full week. No, we’re not gossiping or chattering idly. We concentrate on painting, but that is a highly personal subject. We can’t help but make connections.

Although I once considered myself a private person, I’m now comfortable with this. For one thing, these days there’s very little anyone can blackmail me with.

Teaching has a long reach

I have students who have gone on to professional art careers. Some now teach, and some, like Cassie Sano, are successful writer-illustrators. Student Mark Gale works in an art program with homeless people in Austin, TX. Some, like architect Kamillah Ramos, will outlive me.

Like most artists, I went into art thinking I would make objects of lasting beauty. What if the actual product turned out to be future artists?

(I realize with a start that we’re within a month of my July workshop here in Rockport. If you’re considering it, you want to register soon, since it’s both close and nearly filled up. My other workshops are listed below.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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What is your network?

Hiking, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping in continental US.

One of the nicest things about being an artist is avoiding the world of business-speak. Still, even artists must network.

Networking is sometimes described in negative terms: cronyism, the old boy network, or nepotism. But we human beings network constantly and naturally; we’re very much pack animals at heart.

The Wreck of the SS Ethie, oil on canvas, 18X24, $2318 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know

Like most people, my network starts with my family. Beyond that, I have three circles of friends: my art-world friends, my church buddies, and my trail buddies. Any overlap evolves naturally. I’ll invite all my friends to openings, for example, but I don’t expect any of them to buy from me. However, some of my best opportunities have come from non-artist friends.

Our networks change over time depending on our interests. I no longer run a community garden or live in a neighborhood, so those circles have quietly faded away.

What is your network? Is there overlap between your circles of friends? How much of your social interactions happen in the real world vs. on social media?

Why is networking important for artists?

From a business standpoint, the value of networking is obvious: it exposes you to opportunities like gallery representation, exhibitions, residencies, grants, and sales.

Networking also exposes you to different ideas about art, including feedback and critique on your own work. In addition to helping you make concrete changes, this can give you insights into how your work is perceived by others. I’m always keen to see how my work looks in natural settings rather than the artificial environment of a studio or gallery.

I took classes and workshops for decades. As a young mother, they were my best route to meeting other artists. As I struggled to create a professional practice for myself, those friends provided support and encouragement. (And of course I learned a lot.)

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

It can go wrong… or right

I once belonged to a women’s art critique group. In theory it was a safe space where we could discuss ways to overcome the art-world bias against women. In practice, it devolved into a bitch session. Groups like that poison your attitude, so they’re worse than useless.

My most helpful critics are my family. Most of them have some art background, but more importantly, they have no ego in the art world. If they tell me, “That doesn’t look right,” I listen.

Visibility

I’m always enthusiastic about attending openings (or any other public events) until the time comes to put my pants on. Then I feel a sudden, pressing need to stay home. Like many artists, I’m a recluse at heart. But supporting your peers is important. It’s also one of the best ways you can increase your own visibility within the art community.

The Late Bus, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Then there’s social media

There are people I first met through social media who’ve morphed into real world friends. There are other friends with whom I can only stay connected through my computer or phone. Quit kvetching about social media and use it to grow your following, showcase your work, connect with other artists, and engage with the public.

Show your work

Iron sharpens iron. I loathe rejection as much as the next guy, but the process of submitting work to juried shows and events expands our reach and connections… and makes us better painters.

Reach out

Remember when we used to contact each other IRL? It’s so alien to me now that I sometimes forget that walking in to a gallery or studio and engaging with the human being I find there is the first and best way to forge genuine relationships.

I’m in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. I’ve turned my phone off and while I’m gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Monday Morning Art School: How do I get more out of social media?

Maynard Dixon Clouds, 11X14, oil on archival canvas board, $869 includes shipping in continental US.

“I’m a 73-year-old artist and I’m having trouble expanding my social media reach. Can you give me any ideas, not just to drive more traffic to my art website, but to make the process less miserable?”

I don’t think consistent social media posting is fun for anyone, but if we predate the internet, we don’t always appreciate the whole parasocial thing. I’m the person who told my kids not to talk to strangers on the internet, and now I do it all the time-and some of those people have become my besties.

Spring Allee, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1594.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

First, the basics:

Post consistently. Regularly share your artwork on platforms like Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Threads, and Pinterest. Consistency is the number one rule of social media. I blog three times a week for a reason.

Engage Interact with your followers by responding to comments, asking questions, and participating in others’ discussions. Build genuine connections.

Hashtags Relevant, trending hashtags make your posts more discoverable. How do you find them? Ask Google “best hashtags for __”

Share your process People like watching the creative process, so share photos or videos of your studio, work in progress, or what inspires you.

Collaborate Collaboration cross-pollinates lists. A great way to do that is to tag fellow artists at events. Or do something interesting together.

Early Light is 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.

Giveaways Your freebee doesn’t need to be expensive; it could be as simple as a ‘top ten color pathways for 2024’ handout. (Do I do this? Um, no.) The ‘price’? Their email address.

Guest blogs or interviews There is no such thing as bad publicity, so when someone asks you a question for their own blog or article, be sure to answer in an articulate manner. Or write for others. Just make sure the publisher links back to you; that strong network of links makes you attractive to Google.

SEO Ensure that your website is optimized for search engines by using relevant keywords in your content, image descriptions, and meta tags. If this means nothing to you, start here.

Give readers something meaningful. That’s why I write this blog; it’s my version of ‘exclusive content’ and it brings people to my website.

Cross-promote. Promote your social media profiles on your website and vice versa.

Don’t let AI generate your content If you really don’t have anything to say, say nothing at all. Google has tools to weed out the nonsensical fluff, so it’s a waste of time.

That sounds time-consuming, doesn’t it?

Path to the Lake, ~24X36, watercolor on Yupo, framed in museum-grade plexiglass, $2985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Let’s make it more fun:

Spill Don’t limit your social media presence solely to promoting your artwork. Share your hobbies, interests, and experiences. If you’re a regular reader of this blog and don’t know everything about me, I’m doing something wrong. (Or you’re not paying attention.)

Be funny Share anecdotes or witty commentary related to art or your daily life. Humor humanizes your brand and makes you more relatable.

Host live streams This is a lot of work, which is why I don’t do it often, but I’m happy to do online demos for art groups. It’s a great way to build a sense of community and connection.

Interactive content I don’t do this enough either, but interactive content like polls, quizzes, or challenges makes social media feed more dynamic and encourages engagement.

Showcase your students or the buyers of your work You can also feature artwork or photos shared by your social media followers. This acknowledges and appreciates their support and fosters a sense of community and collaboration.

Tell stories (I can’t seem to help doing this.) Storytelling engages your audience. Share the inspiration behind your artwork, memorable experiences from your artistic journey, or anecdotes from your daily life.

Celebrate yourself Yeah, that sounds a lot like bragging, but if you don’t tell them about your achievements, who will?

Be you Above all, be authentic and genuine in your interactions on social media. (If you’re never funny, I’m so sorry.) Openly share your thoughts, feelings, and experiences, no matter how introverted you are. Social media is all about bridging the barrier of the screen.

Of course I don’t do all those things; no one person can. Focus on a few that work for you.

That’s all I can think of. Fellow artists, can you add any tips? What works for you?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: