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Are you intimidated by art galleries?

Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on canvasboard, is available through the Red Barn Gallery.

The first person in the door of Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde yesterday was a lovely lady from Industry, ME. She told me she often feels uncomfortable entering an art gallery, especially since she doesn’t intend to buy. Why is that, I asked her. She couldn’t give me a clear answer but said, “this place doesn’t make me feel that way.”

I think I’m typical as a gallerist in that I like people stopping by to talk art, both at the Red Barn Gallery and my own space at 394 Commercial Street in Rockport.

Even though my job at the gallery was dusting, I skirted around Shelley Nolan’s exquisite glass. Yes, I was intimidated.

Susan Lewis Baines (who’s both a gallerist and artist) put it this way:

  • Come on in and say hi;
  • Look at and admire the work;
  • Ask about the artists;
  • Bring your coffee from Squid Ink across the road;
  • Bring me one [you can skip that step with me];
  • Come to our openings and meet our members and guest artists;
  • If you see a piece of art you really like, buy it. I have never known anyone who regretted buying a piece of art that spoke to them;
  • And lastly, don’t ever, ever, feel obligated to buy. And don’t let that keep you away from us.

There’s nothing pompous or intimidating about the Red Barn Gallery-it’s in a converted barn, above a bar. That probably helped my visitor relax, and it’s a heads-up to anyone designing a gallery space to not be too obsessed with design and fashion. It’s a pity when anyone who loves art feels daunted by galleries. I turned our conversation over, trying to think of reasons why it might happen.

Intimidation: Galleries sometimes have an air of exclusivity and luxury, which can be intimidating to those of us from more practical backgrounds. When they’re overly opulent, they can make us feel ill-at-ease.

Price perception: We read all the time about high-end art that sells for absurd prices. Art fanciers may assume they can’t afford art at all, or fear they’ll be judged if they don’t buy anything. The reality is that most art is made by middle-class artists for a middle-class audience. Yes, it’s more than you’d pay at TJMaxx, but it’s not stratospherically expensive, either. You could spend more on a handbag than most of the pieces at the Red Barn Gallery, and they’ll have far more lasting power.

My wall at Red Barn Gallery. It’s neat, well-lighted, easy to look at, and definitely not intimidating.

Self-consciousness: Some people may worry about being judged by the staff or other customers if they don’t look affluent. I have felt that myself in some Manhattan galleries, but it’s not much of an issue here in Maine, where we choose between flannel shirts and Sunday-go-to-meetin’ flannel shirts.

Sales pressure: You’re very likely to get attentive customer service in a gallery, but don’t assume that means we’re pushing you into a purchase. It’s just that (see above) we like talking about art.

If I ever get bored while working, there are fabulous views out the front and back windows. Port Clyde is lovely!

My personal bête noire is disinterested or supercilious gatekeepers. And therein lies the paradox of galleries. What’s right for a $300 or $3000 painting is probably not right for a $300,000 painting or a $3 million painting. The same thing that turns me off might make a person interested in a six-figure painting feel more pampered and exclusive.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Gallery representation

Inception, Casey Cheuvront, 24X48, courtesy of the artist.

Arizona artist Casey Cheuvront has no flies on her when it comes to selling her work. She kindly agreed to answer some questions:

How long have you had gallery representation?

If you are counting co-ops or vanity galleries, about 6 years. This has been a game of musical chairs for me, with some being seasonal and some going out of business. Others I left because I did not like the fit. Currently I am in the Sedona Arts Center Fine Art Gallery and Legends of the West, Santa Fe. I hope to be in both for some time to come. I was in a local co-op but the service commitment, the gallery rules, the lack of traffic and other factors made me feel it was not a good fit for me.

Desert Skies, Casey Cheuvront, 18 x 12, courtesy of the artist.

How have you sought gallery representation? Have they approached you? Cold calling on your part? Through an event?

Yes, yes, and yes. One gallery responded to a congratulations I sent by inviting me to submit. Another invited me after a couple of plein air events; they’ve been a strong seller for me since. A third solicited me. I cold-called a fourth on the recommendation of another artist friend showing there; so far, no dice.

What do you think makes for a good gallerist?

A combination of open-mindedness, discretion, strong curation skills, sales skills, marketing skills, professionalism (that is crucial) and knowing her market.

What do you look for in your own paintings when you pitch them?

First, is it a good painting? Would I hang it in my home? Is it my best effort? Could it be better? Is it nicely presented (framing etc.)? Is it priced reasonably? (I don’t mean cheap; I mean, is the pricing in keeping with my other works and what’s currently showing there.) Is it in keeping with the overall style already in the gallery? Does it ‘fit’? e.g. I would not offer seascapes in Sedona or Santa Fe; and I probably wouldn’t try to sell cactus landscapes in Maine!

The Great Escape, Casey Cheuvront, 10X10, courtesy of the artist.

What does your presentation packet look like?

Everything I have is digital. I used to have a folder full of expensively-photographed, 4×6 or 5×7 prints, but that ship has sailed. I have a website which I work hard to keep current, a decent bio, a list of accomplishments (shows, awards, judging, workshops, demos, etc.) and of course I keep a file of recent available works which I can send out or put on a thumb drive quickly. “Go digital or go home” is the thing these days. I also always keep business cards with me (you never know) even when painting in the field.

How do you massage your social-media presence to support your galleries?

I have a strong following on Facebook, a lesser one on Instagram. If I have, say, a featured-artist showing or something I of course promote that through social media. When I send a piece to a gallery, I’ll share that. I keep my gallery list current on the website and send newsletter announcements periodically.

Almost Home, Casey Cheuvront, 6X12, courtesy of the artist.

Do you ever pull the plug on galleries? If so, why?

I have done that four times. In one case it was bad communication on the owners’ part, and being treated as a second-class citizen by her store personnel. In another case a co-op owner simply could not deliver the goods; the gallery was mismanaged from day one, promises were not kept, and though I admired her presentation I found the execution sorely lacking. A local art league had a gallery and while I sold OK there, one artist treated the establishment as her personal gallery. No one else was allowed to work or demo while she was there, which made the mandatory work days a real drag. The last co-op I left because I felt it was just not a good fit; while a couple of artists had pricing like mine, I noticed big, inexpensive, bright/splashy pieces selling (including one I pulled when I left) and thought they would do better with another artist in that space. I’m happy to report they are doing ok, have expanded their space, and have a huge roster of artists there.

Co-op/vanity galleries make rent on selling wall space, so they tend to be really crowded, and often there’s no real oversight on who’s in and who’s not as long as they have a checkbook. Certainly, that’s not true everywhere, and there are some great co-ops around. I have a friend who’s been in one in Northern California for many years and sells a bundle; she’s shared some of the work there and it’s all top notch.

I’d rather be the new kid in a great gallery and hang with people who are really good, than the best in town in a gallery showing moderate-to-mediocre work.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: