The Artist's Life

Finding Your Personal Style

2010-02-19T13:00:00Z

It’s often said that artists don’t find their personal style—it finds them. Although I agree with this statement, I found in my experience that individual style develops only after a number of other tasks are accomplished.

All professional artists began as novices, and for many the first step to becoming proficient was receiving instruction in basic artistic principles, and learning how to handle their chosen medium. After I learned the basics of watercolor, I began to experiment with a variety of subject matter. At first, my painting efforts were quite clumsy, but I was determined to hang in there for at least five years before giving up on "getting good". After several years of working with watercolor transparently, my confidence with watermedia grew, eventually leading to my experimenting with opaque media (acrylic and gouache) on paper.

A signature style can’t be forced; it develops naturally over time. This development, however, usually begins with knowledge, followed by practice, and finally, experimentation. Some artists seem to find their style after just a few years. It took me more than 10 years, but I'm a slow learner. My own style started to emerge once I focused on one subject matter. At that time, it was still life. Now I’ve added landscape and figurative subjects to my repertoire, and work in acrylic and oil, in addition transparent watercolor. Regardless of the subject, there is a thread of similarity throughout my body of work. This only appeared after I learned the principles of light, shadow, color and edges; then spent several years of employing these principles in my work; and finally after adapting and using techniques I’d learned in new and exciting ways.

Even after reaching a professional level, some artists continue to seek advice from more experienced peers throughout their careers. I have always been a willing art student and plan to continue learning the principles of art from those who are more experienced than I am. The wonderful thing about developing my skills while I paint full-time is that I've not only gained a recognizable style but also continue to learn new painting techniques. Whenever I’m faced with a challenge, I always keep in mind that every artist, no matter how advanced, started out as a beginner.

Lori Woodward earned a bachelor’s degree in art education from University of Arizona. She has studied watercolor and composition extensively with Sondra Freckelton and Jack Beal. Woodword’s work has appeared in several issues of Watercolor, and she is a co-author of the Walter Foster book Watercolor Step by Step. She is a member of The Putney Painters, an invitational group in Vermont. She resides in New Hampshire with her husband, Brian Simons, a software engineer. Visit her website at www.loriwords.com and follow her on Twitter here.

How To Hang Your Show Like A Pro

2010-01-29T14:42:00Z

When I moved to New Hampshire in the mid-1990s, I joined a local art association where the members were a mixture of "newbies" as well as seasoned professionals. In many cases the "old pros" helped us newbies learn, not only how to improve our painting but also how to run our businesses efficiently. One of the most helpful pieces of advice came from artists that regularly worked in the outdoor, art-in-the-park show circuit. As I strolled around the grounds visiting their booths, I noticed that their work was exhibited in a similar fashion. Here's what I learned from them, and it has certainly worked well for me over the years.

Display Your Work as a Cohesive Unit

Whether you're preparing to show in a restaurant, outdoor show, or even a gallery setting, how you frame and display your work can make a huge difference in the final appearance and the way viewers respond. Choose similar frames for your paintings so that when they hang side-by-side they look like a unit rather than a patchwork of disparate pieces. For example, if your body of work looks best in gold frames, select similar gold frames for all of your work. Likewise, if dark or black frames are more fitting, use those for all your paintings. At the very least, this makes buying frames an easier task.

Grab The Viewer's Attention

Now that you've created a sense of cohesion in your body of work, you'll want to grab your viewer's attention by placing your largest painting (which is hopefully your best) in the middle of your display at eye level. No matter what the size, it's important that you hang your best pieces at eye level to draw people into your art booth or to your gallery wall; placing your largest painting in the middle creates a visual pattern that draws in the viewer’s eye. Conversely, if all your paintings are the same size, when they are hung side-by-side it becomes difficult for passersby to focus on any single piece in the group.

Group Paintings of Similar Color

Just as interior decorators use color themes to harmonize a room area, hanging paintings that contain similar colors next to one another creates a harmony in your display area. This garners attention because it implies an overall statement to your collection, one that a viewer would want to learn more about.

Don't Trap Your Viewers

Clear the area around your paintings of chairs, tables and other obstacles that might make your viewers feel trapped. People like to feel like they can get away easily at any time (ironically, this also makes them more likely to stay near your collection). When I've tried to keep viewers in my booth by placing a table right in the middle--so that they'd have to walk beyond the table to see my paintings--the result was that they seemed reluctant to move beyond the table and therefore never got a closer look. After I removed the table, folks eagerly approached the paintings and comfortably spent time with them.

Keep these suggestions in mind the next time you display a number of your works, no matter what the venue. Hang your work like the pros do and you’ll draw in potential collectors like a magnet. And next time you visit a commercial gallery, notice how they display groups of paintings by each artist. It'll be a real eye-opener.

Flexible New Year's Resolutions

2010-01-15T14:48:00Z

I rather enjoy making New Year's resolutions; however, I've come to the conclusion that artists would do better making flexible plans rather than writing goals in stone.

It seems that my business plans are better off being designed around themes rather than specific goals, because when I set up a list of such goals for myself, I rarely meet them. This is not because I'm lazy but because during the year unexpected opportunities or ideas crop up. Some years, new opportunities are so attractive that I end up completely dropping my previous goals and pursuing other paths instead.

This past year provided several examples of such changes. About this time last year I began using social media for business purposes. I had no idea how useful Twitter and Facebook would be to my getting my artwork seen by more people. Additionally, I started writing an e-mail newsletter to collectors—people who have already purchased my artwork or who are interested in doing so. In this newsletter, I post new artwork and add a bit about my painting and thinking process. Newsletter recipients are delighted to be the first to receive new images in their e-mail inboxes, and they often e-mail back with their comments. With all these ways of connecting with my audience, a dialogue has grown, and so have my sales. I have the freedom to offer incentives to my loyal collectors because I'm not bound by a gallery contract.

At this time last year I also had no intentions of accepting portrait commissions, but after having just completed an article on portraiture for Watercolor magazine, I'm now not completely opposed to the idea of taking on a few commissions.

Also at the beginning of last year, I was set on working with a high-profile gallery in New England where I was to be a guest artist for the summers of 2010 and 2011. Today, having sold so well from my website and at a bed-and-breakfast where I am the artist in residence, I am holding off working with galleries. I've come to the conclusion that I can sell my work on my own just as well, or even better, than most galleries can.

It seems that every time I write a long and detailed business plan, I begin to make sales in an unexpected way. So this year, I’ll instead write down themes to follow, rather than specific goals. One of the themes I plan to pursue: doing a series of watercolor paintings of Acadia National Park. A second theme: striving for excellence in my body of work.

How do I make my work better? First, by studying the masters—both deceased and living. I regularly ask myself the following questions: What makes their artwork so compelling? What elements do I see in their work that are missing in mine? When I look at watercolors by William Trost Richards, I ask myself, How does he handle color and value, and how does that compare to how I use color and value? Usually the answer is that I don't even begin to use colors the way he does—repeating them throughout the composition. But now that I’m examining his way of repeating color, I intend to add that element to my repertoire of painting skills.

This year and every year, I hope to take the quality of my work to the next level of professionalism. The better my work is, the easier it will be to market. I expect to sell primarily from my website, but who knows? If a gallery owner from a well-known arts district phoned me out of the blue, I just might change my mind. After all, this plan is not written in stone.

A Simple Formula for Pricing Artwork

2009-12-18T13:57:00Z

Pricing artwork is one of the most complex tasks that emerging artists face, especially when they first begin to work with galleries. It's easy to see by reading articles and books on art marketing that the opinions of the experts vary.

To make it even more complicated, we artists sometimes price with our emotions. Some artists overprice their work in order to impress viewers, hoping to make the artwork look more valuable. Sometimes this works, but usually only when the collector is naive or when the artwork is spectacular and gets the attention of serious collectors. When I price with my emotion, I tend to lower my prices because I feel sorry that the collector has to spend so much. Now, don't get on me for this ... it's the truth. I'm an empathetic type, but I need to be careful to not price my work based on how I feel about it or collectors. In other words, I need to look at pricing objectively.

Putting emotions aside, let me share a simple formula that many of my professional artist friends have used when first starting to sell their work. I still use this formula. Remember that pricing reflects your position and reputation in the art-selling world more than what your art looks like. If you're relatively unknown to collectors and don't have many credentials—such as having placed in competitions, shown with a well-known gallery, or had your work published—you really can't get the same prices as artists who do have those credentials.

When you're first starting out, it's a good idea to make your work as affordable as you can while being able to cover your costs and make a small profit. Don't charge so little that you don't break even. Remember that galleries often take a 50 percent commission from sales, so you'll have to take that into consideration.

Here's the formula that I recommend:

First, multiply the painting's width by its length to arrive at the total size, in square inches. Then multiply that number by a set dollar amount that's appropriate for your reputation. I currently use $6 per square inch for oil paintings. Then calculate your cost of canvas and framing, and then double that number. For example: A 16”-x-20” oil-on-linen landscape painting: 16” x 20” = 320 square inches

I price my oil paintings at $6 per square inch. 320 x 6 = $1,920.00, and I round this down to $1,900. My frame, canvas and materials cost me $150.00 (I buy framing wholesale). I double this cost so that I'll get it all back when the painting sells at the gallery. Otherwise, I'm subsidizing the collector by giving him or her the frame for free. $150 x 2 = $300

Then I put it all together: $1,900 + $300 = $2,200 (the retail price). When the painting sells from a gallery, my cut after the 50 percent commission is paid comes to $950 for the painting and $150 for the framing, for a total of $1,100.

For much larger pieces, I'll bring the price per square inch down a notch ... maybe a dollar or two lower so that I don't price my work beyond what my reputation can sustain. Alternately, for smaller works, I'll increase the dollar per square inch because small works take almost as much effort as larger works, and I need to be compensated for my expertise, even when the work is miniature.

This is not the only way to price artwork, but it's one that keeps my prices consistent. Keep in mind that my prices were much lower 10 years ago when my artwork was relatively unknown to collectors. It's important to note here that when I have a great selling year, I raise my prices by 10 percent. When the economy is poor or my sales are slow, I don't raise prices at all.

I hopes this give you a place to start. If you're just selling at local outdoor shows and are entering the art market, I would suggest that you keep your dollar amount much lower than mine. I've been selling my work for 14 years. There are ways that I could increase the worth and therefore the price of my art, but I'll talk about that in a later blog post.

The Breakfast Club

2009-12-04T13:00:00Z

Back in 1994, after my husband and I relocated to New Hampshire, an artist friend invited me to join a group of painters and photographers who met every Wednesday morning at a quaint café in downtown Nashua. This group of about a dozen artists had been meeting for several years, and when I heard about these casual breakfasts, I couldn't wait to show up. I remember being impressed by the artwork of these then-unknown artists, and I wondered why their art hadn't been seen by anyone outside New England.

I got a chance to spread the word about this group during the summer of 1995, when I attended my first watercolor/composition workshop with Sondra Freckelton and Jack Beal, in upstate New York. I heard there was a possibility that Steve Doherty, the editor-in-chief American Artist magazine, might visit during the last two days of the workshop. A lightbulb went off in my head with an idea to present the work of three of my artist friends to Steve for possible publication in Watercolor magazine. A week before the workshop I asked each of them to give me a small portfolio just in case the opportunity should arise to show their artwork to Steve.

In those days, I was quite shy. I remember being afraid to talk to either Jack or Sondra for the first few days of the workshop, although the ice was broken when one evening I found myself singing "When I'm 64" with Jack at their dinner table. (Not only is Jack a master painter and talented teacher but he makes interesting and downright fun company. I've learned more about composition from him than from any other teacher, and his mentoring has changed my life and resulted in many successful paintings.) Nevertheless, I was afraid I wouldn’t have the guts to approach Steve about the article. I shared my plan with Irene Ingalls, a watercolorist who worked as Jack and Sondra’s workshop administrator. Steve arrived as expected, and Irene encouraged me to approach him. Steve was out painting by a barn, and it wasn't the best time to talk to him; he wanted to paint, not talk to me. However, he was gracious enough to listen and take the slides and portfolios.

The next day, Steve said that he was impressed by these artists' work but that his plate was full with having to write for new American Artist publications—Watercolor magazine has just increased from two issues a year to four. That's when I got a burst of courage, and I suddenly found myself saying, "Well ... I received some awards in high school for my writing, would you mind if I tried writing this article myself? If you don't like it, you can chuck it." Steve said, "Yes, go ahead," and the rest is history.

I decided to write about the three artists in the context of how they met at the café every Wednesday morning. When the article was completed, I had not yet titled it, but the project manager for Watercolor helped out by dubbing the article "The Breakfast Club," and the name has stuck ever since.

Although some of the faces have changed over time, these artists have continued to meet on Wednesday mornings for more than 20 years. There are no dues, no business meetings, no officers, and no pressure to attend. There is lots of laughter and sharing of ideas. Artists have a psychological need to get out of their studios and meet face to face with other people, and these casual gatherings offer the perfect atmosphere for sharing and support. Many times the artists bring in their artwork for critique or for direction from the more experienced members of the group.

The icing on the cake is all the wonderful events and shows that have taken place as a result of this meeting of like-minded individuals. Much of the conversation revolves around business ideas, and these artists arrange group exhibitions, as well as painting excursions to scenic New England locations such as Lubec, Maine. At this time of year, the group often plans a voluntary gift swap—usually small unframed paintings.

Because this club is set up as a nonprofit, it is free of the administrative work that goes along with official organizations. There is no president, treasurer, or secretary. Any work that gets done is voluntary, and since there is no overhead for renting a facility, raising funds is never an issue. When the group decides to hold an exhibition, those who want to participate simply share the cost.

Groups like this can be formed anywhere at any time. It's a place where seasoned professional artists mentor beginners in a lighthearted atmosphere and, most importantly, where lasting friendships form.

Lori Woodward earned a bachelor’s degree in art education from University of Arizona. She has studied watercolor and composition extensively with Sondra Freckelton and Jack Beal. Simons’ work has appeared in several issues of Watercolor, and she is a co-author of the Walter Foster book Watercolor Step by Step. She is a member of The Putney Painters, an invitational group in Vermont. She resides in New Hampshire with her husband, Brian Simons, a software engineer. Visit her website at www.loriwords.com and follow her on Twitter here.

Selling Without Galleries

2009-11-20T14:45:00Z

Over the past decade, I've worked with half a dozen commercial galleries, and although I enjoyed the prestige of being able to say that I am represented by a gallery, the truth is that I've been able to sell my artwork better on my own. Many of my artist friends prefer to just paint and let someone else sell their work, but I'm a highly social person, and I enjoy meeting and talking to clients.

I'll discuss how to get into galleries in future blogs, but for now I'll focus on some of the ways artists can get started selling on their own. It's been my experience, anyway, that gallerists want to see strong sales before they take on an artist, which essentially means we need to build our own client base before approaching galleries.

The good news is that the way art gets to a collector's wall is changing; selling power seems to be shifting from the galleries and dealers to the artists. The use of the internet and artist websites has offered a more convenient and sometimes less expensive way for collectors to buy art. On the other hand, I don't think commercial galleries are going to disappear altogether; those that have managed their finances, worked honestly with their artists, and developed a long list of loyal collectors will continue to do well.

One of the best ways to build a collector base and get started selling is at outdoor shows. It will require some investment up front in order to buy a tent and hanging racks, but once you do that your "storefront" is set up, and you can do as many or as few shows as you like. One of my former students got started a few years ago at a local "Art in the Park" weekend show. During his first exhibition there, he sold $4,000 worth of art. Shortly after, a local gallery began representing him, and his career went on from there.

I personally know a couple of other artists who make a full-time living by doing outdoor shows. One in particular often comes home with $10,000 in her pocket after a two-day exhibition. She does work with several galleries and local fund-raisers as well. This artist has maintained a six-figure income for many years.

Although I haven't personally sold any pieces on eBay or "Painting-a-Day" online venues, I have sold art directly from my website. However, all these sales have either been from former collectors or from folks who've seen my artwork at an exhibition or show. Unless you're already a highly collected artist, it's difficult to initiate sales from your website alone.

It's important to note here that when artists sell both through a gallery and on their own, their retail prices need to be the same across the board. If an artist sells to clients from their website at a lower price than what the gallery is selling his or her artwork for, the artist undercuts the gallery and will most likely lose representation there. Your price for a 9”-x-12” oil painting, for example, should be the same no matter how it’s being sold.

Since I haven't been working with galleries for some time now, I don't have to worry about conflicts of interest involving pricing or selling from my studio or website. What I like about selling on my own is being able to offer former collectors incentives such as price cuts, free shipping, or layaway plans. They can choose to buy the piece unframed, or I can offer them stock frames or custom, hand-gilded frames.

Another way to get your artwork out there is to do local shows that are fund-raisers. The topic of doing fund-raisers is worthy of a blog in itself, but for now, I'll say that if it's an exhibition with an opening where the artists are in attendance, it's a great way to meet people who may be interested in your work. Of course, you'll have business cards with you that will point to your website, blog, or e-mail newsletter.

It takes time to build a collector list, but it doesn't necessarily take a lot of money. It will behoove you to carry a guest book with you at these venues so that you can collect contact information of those who are interested in your artwork. Never force anyone to sign your guest book. Carrying it at gallery shows may not work well, because gallerists are often reluctant to share their list of collectors with artists, but when you're selling your own artwork, it's an excellent way to build a following. (Keep in mind, though, that it's in poor taste to collect names or promote yourself at another artist's opening night.)

One you've begun to build a client list, ask them to sign up for your e-mail newsletter or blog. In this way, you get them to give you permission to show them your new work. Permission marketing is the way many things are sold these days—people are paying less attention to interruptive marketing, such as TV commercials, spam, and phone solicitations. When you get permission from people who are already interested in your art to "bug" them with newsletters and images of your latest paintings, they actually enjoy hearing from you. When this list of interested collectors grows, you really won't need a middle-man to help you sell.

Again, I'm not saying that galleries aren't useful to artists. I've recently seen two young artists triple their income by having an important gallery take them on. But galleries aren't the only way to sell artwork, and for many of us, we are perfectly able to make a full-time living by selling online, at outdoor and community shows, and even by setting up our own exhibitions. There's plenty of evidence out there that these venues are working, and in many cases direct sales can be more lucrative for artists than gallery sales.

Never Stop Learning

2009-11-06T13:00:00Z

Some of my artist friends regret that they never attended an art college or university. It might surprise some of you to know that I majored in art at a large university and have a bachelor's degree in fine-art education.

Being able to share my experiences on blogs allows me to be more frank with my readers, so here it goes. The truth is, I learned very little of what I now know while at college. My professors did not understand or teach the basic academic principles of light, color, drawing, or edges. In one of my figure-drawing classes, I was chastised for actually drawing the model. Apparently, I would have gotten a better grade if I had translated the model's image into an unrecognizable abstract design. In one semester-long class, the only student who walked away with an A on her report card drew two little square boxes on a huge sheet of newsprint—I could understand this if she had drawn boxes that somehow related to the figure, but they were just a couple of poorly drawn squares.

That was in my junior year, and I admit that I lost all interest in continuing my studies at that point. I was on a full scholarship, but my grades took and hit, and I barely kept those grades high enough to continue. After college, I worked for a computer company and hardly touched my art supplies. I guess one could say I was burned-out on art.

Thankfully, in 1990, my desire to pursue art rose to the surface again. I began to study with a local watercolor teacher and took workshops with major instructors. It was at this point that I started getting the education I had always hoped for, and I've continued to study with masterful painters until this day.

This blog's purpose is not to put down the education system but to highlight the fact that we artists have opportunities to get an art education as we have never had before. There's nothing stopping us! Even if you can't afford workshops or classes, there are great videos, books, and magazines to teach you—I can honestly state that one issue of Workshop <$> magazine offers so much more than I learned in four years of college. No, I don't get a kickback if you buy the magazine, but I do wholeheartedly recommend it.

Even today, I seek to improve both my understanding and skill set in the arena of representational art. (I do enjoy looking at good abstract art but don't enjoy making it). I can't thank my mentors and instructors enough for their contributions to the world of artists. I am so thankful that I am an artist at this time in history when opportunities to learn from the best abound.

Why I Must Paint Plein Air Studies

2009-10-23T16:17:00Z

I admit that I am not one who adores painting on location. If the truth be known, when I visit a national park, I'd rather be exploring and walking around—taking photos of everything that strikes my interest. Oh yes, I've paid my dues by lugging my oil painting equipment to remote vistas, but having "been there, done that," I've come to the conclusion that I'm just not crazy about standing in one spot for two hours focusing on one scene. When I am outdoors, I need and want to experience the whole place.

Although many of my painting colleagues absolutely love the experience of painting outdoors, I find it cumbersome. I am a fairly good photographer and can work at home in my studio from pictures alone, but I've learned that when I skip the step of working on location, the resulting paintings lack something. In other words, I've become convinced that working directly from nature is not optional if I want to become a truly great landscape painter.

I'm a soul that likes to explore as much as I like to paint, and I've worked out a system that lets me do both. I do all my plein air studies in graphite and watercolor, so my load is light because I’m able to keep my supplies to a minimum. I use 140-lb hot-pressed watercolor paper—which I can both sketch and paint on—and I also carry 140-lb cold-pressed watercolor paper. I cut my 22″-x-30″ sheets into quarters, leaving me many 11″-x-15″ sheets that fit easily into my backpack. I carry three watercolor brushes—a size 8 fine pointed round, a size 4 round, and a size 2 for details. By taping my paper to foam core and using a lightweight plastic palette, everything fits into a medium-size backpack. Sometimes I carry a folding stool if I don't think I'll find a comfortable rock or log to sit on. When I begin painting, I place the board on my lap and the palette on the ground.

Plein air study at Duck Pond, watercolor on 140-lb cold-pressed paper.

Although I probably could come up with some reasonably good paintings by working from photographs alone, doing plein air studies offers me several things that I wouldn't get if I were to work purely from photos. Here are a few key benefits of painting from life.

1. When I take the time to draw or paint a scene from life, I get to know the scene as I would a good friend. Spending time with a place along with my pencil and paint makes me intimately familiar with the scene's elements.
2. Cameras don't record accurate color. Even though I can adjust color using photo-editing software on my computer, the human eye and brain are capable of translating accurate color far more efficiently than any camera lens or computer can.
3. If we look into shadow areas when painting en plein air, our pupils adjust to the light conditions so that we can see details. A camera, on the other hand, often leaves what's in the shadows a mystery.
4. My intellect and emotion record and memorize what I see. When painting or drawing a place, I make an emotional connection with it. By taking the time to record what's before my eyes on paper, I store the details of what I'm painting in my memory. Briefly recording the same scene with my camera cannot make this kind of connection.

Duck Pond, Acadia
 2009, watercolor, 10 x 15. Collection the artist. 
I painted this finished piece in the studio on 300-lb cold-pressed paper
from my plein air study and from photographs.

Lori Woodward earned a bachelor’s degree in art education from University of Arizona. She has studied watercolor and composition extensively with Sondra Freckelton and Jack Beal. Simons’ work has appeared in several issues of Watercolor, and she is a co-author of the Walter Foster book Watercolor Step by Step. She is a member of The Putney Painters, an invitational group in Vermont. She resides in New Hampshire with her husband, Brian Simons, a software engineer. Visit her website at www.loriwords.com and follow her on Twitter here.

How to Act Like an Art Collector

2009-10-09T12:00:00Z

When artists shop for a gallery to represent them, it's helpful if when they first visit they avoid acting or looking like an artist and instead take on the behavior of a collector. This can help you to learn how attentive a gallery’s staff is, and it allows you to assess how much they know about the artists whose work they carry. If the staff suspects you are an artist, you may be written off or even ignored—a bad sign, as many artists are also avid collectors.

While on a plein air painting trip a few years ago, a fellow artist and I visited a gallery after painting. It was obvious that we were artists—we had painting clothes on. While we were looking at the artwork, the gallery manager came over to us and said, “You're just here to play, right?" I was insulted, not only because this member of the staff was suggesting that artists are not viable collectors but also because I had actually purchased a painting at this gallery a year before through this same fellow.

Over the years, I’ve gotten to know a few passionate art collectors who are not artists, and I’ve observed that they do not look at paintings in the same manner as artists do. When artists enter a gallery (often in groups), each artist tends to begin at one end of the gallery and look at every single painting (and then the price) while practically putting his or her nose to the artwork. Then the artists talk about how the artwork is painted and what they think of the skill level of the painters. This type of behavior will certainly identify you as an artist.

The typical nonartist collector walks into the gallery, smiles at the gallery personnel, and then surveys the entire gallery at once, glancing in every direction. When something catches his or her attention, the collector will proceed toward that one piece for a closer look, but mind you not a close look—I mean about five feet back from the painting. If the painting is large, collectors stand 10 feet away. They're trying to get a feel for how it would be to live with the painting. They usually don't care about how it was painted. Collectors typically are not interested in every piece of artwork in a gallery. If a painting strikes a chord, they’ll look at the price tag.

When I'm shopping for a potential gallery to show my work, I avoid looking like an artist by visiting with my husband (we are collectors) or a nonartist friend who doesn’t know diddly about how to paint. It helps if my friend is also a collector. When scoping out a gallery, if you see a piece that interests you, ask about that artist. See if the gallery's staff is doing a good job of selling. Personnel should know quite a lot about each artist the gallery represents.

I visited a New England gallery a few years ago and did not let the owner know I was an artist. A couple of the artists represented by that gallery are personal friends of mine. A painting by one of my friends was leaning sideways against a stair rail. Another friend’s artwork was sitting on the floor. Although this gallery was in a good New England arts district, I certainly wouldn't recommend it to any of my artist friends or even collectors.

So make a day of it, gather a nonartist friend or two, and go gallery shopping. Practice looking at paintings like a collector rather than like an artist. Eventually, when you're looking for a gallery to represent you, you'll know which ones do a good job of showing and selling.

Finding a Successful Gallery

2009-09-25T12:00:00Z

So you want to start making some money with your art? There are many ways to reach collectors in today's art market, such as outdoor shows, eBay, and individual blogs. Although all these venues can produce a lively income, many of my artist friends consider working with commercial galleries to be their highest goal. Although galleries take a 40 percent to 50 percent sales commission, artists seem to enjoy the affirmation that goes along with having someone else sell and market their work.

Not all galleries are created equal, however. Ideally, a gallery should have certain assets. First, the best selling galleries have ample foot traffic. Don't fall for a gallery that boasts about how many cars drive by, because that's exactly what cars do—drive by. Art buyers generally need an alternate reason to be out of their cars. In other words, art galleries are rarely their final destination. Successful galleries are situated in arts districts with boutiques, antique shops, and fancy restaurants. Many art galleries are located in resort towns. Some are not situated in areas with heavy foot traffic, and those galleries often invest heavily in advertising in art-collector magazines in order to interest and attract collectors.

The ideal gallery should also have professional lighting fixtures, a glass front with paintings attractively displayed, and it should almost always be on the first floor (street level). If it is next to or near other galleries, so much the better.

Selling art is an expensive venture. The rent for gallery space in an art district is often in the range of $30,000 to $50,000 per month. Advertising in major art-collector magazines can cost upward of $10,000 for a full-page ad. However, gallery owners willingly pay these high fees in order to situate themselves where well-to-do people go for fun and relaxation.

Art collectors enjoy visiting as many galleries as they can in a single day or evening. Art walks are a great way to bring in collectors on a regular basis. Scottsdale, Arizona, for example, has a weekly art walk on Thursday nights. In New England, where I live, some smaller resort towns hold “First Friday” evenings when all shops stay open late the first Friday of every month.

I've noticed that the most successful galleries I've worked with do not leave unsold artwork on their walls for more than a few months. What this means for the artist is that when work does not sell, he or she will be asked to exchange unsold paintings with new pieces every few months. More than once, I've been asked to leave a gallery because my work didn't sell fast enough. They just can't afford to keep an artist who isn't making them money. When this happens, I don't take it personally. Good galleries don't let your work hang forever, and I don't work with galleries that keep the same artwork year after year, because unsold work is a sure sign that they're not doing very well.

When you begin looking for galleries to carry your artwork, go to an arts district or town with other shops and restaurants where people are out of cars and walking. At first, do not let the gallery staff know that you're an artist. You'll want to get an idea of how they treat their prospective customers and how well they know the artists they represent. In a future post, I'll explain how to look at art the way a collector does. We artists tend to use body language that collectors hardly ever use.

Lori Woodward Simons earned a bachelor’s degree in art education from University of Arizona. She has studied watercolor and composition extensively with Sondra Freckelton and Jack Beal. Simons’ work has appeared in several issues of Watercolor, and she is a co-author of the Walter Foster book Watercolor Step by Step. She is a member of The Putney Painters, an invitational group in Vermont. She resides in New Hampshire with her husband, Brian Simons, a software engineer. Visit her website at www.loriwords.com and follow her on Twitter here.

Priming Your Mind for Painting

2009-09-11T12:05:00Z

by Lori Woodward Simons

As I've mentioned in past blogs, artists are motivated visually—at least I am. It seems our minds follow and are motivated by what we see. So in order to get busy on a painting, I need to remove myself from distractions and put myself in an environment that suits my artistic dreams. When I'm out of the studio and looking at other things that need to get done, it's difficult to become motivated to paint. One of the ways that I whet my appetite for painting is to just sit in my studio. I see my studio as a kind of painting sanctuary—a place set aside for the sole purpose of creating art. If I can get my body there and my eyes fixed on my work, before I know it my mind gets saturated with visions and imaginations of paintings that I want to make. American Artist just released their special issue on studios. I am looking forward to getting my copy, and although I don't have the space or finances to build a workplace like some of the studios I'll see in the issue, I will certainly gain ideas about how to make my painting space more efficient.

So, how do I motivate myself to paint? First, I move my body (and therefore my mind) to my working space. This space, my studio, needs to be separated from the rest of my home. Once there, If I'm not already working on a painting, I look through my references and magazine tear sheets (yes, I tear out the articles I love and put them in files). My art-library bookshelf is nearby, so I often look through my books until I begin to get the urge to paint. Some artists prefer to plan ahead, but I'm the type that wants to be "led" to paint something that excites me.

It goes without saying that if I'm painting en plein air, I'll find a scene or subject that touches my heart. I'm reminded of something Donald Demers said at a recent workshop I attended: "I never paint anything unless it resonates emotionally with me."The studio, however, is where I enjoy working the most, and the hardest part about getting psyched to paint is getting away from life's worries and distractions and into the solace of my studio. This works best if I designate a time to arrive there. In essence, I'm making a personal appointment with my workspace. Since my mind is sharpest in the morning hours, I usually plan to get myself into that creative space around 10:00 a.m. Once I'm there, the muse automatically follows. The trick is to not allow myself to leave for at least an hour. Even if I just look at books, before I know it, the ideas for paintings will begin to flow, and I'll find myself putting my brush to paper or canvas.

How do you get motivated to paint on a regular basis? Do you have a routine? Perhaps you're working on commissions that must get done whether you feel excited about painting or not. No doubt, some of you have a system in place in which you work with such regularity that you have no need to whet your painting appetite.

When Circumstances Control Emotions

2009-08-28T12:00:00Z

Whenever I sell one of my paintings, my energy is renewed, and I feel as if I can conquer the world. My self-esteem soars as I begin to envision all kinds of new ideas for paintings. The same types of feelings emerge when I get a painting accepted into a competition or win an award. These “cloud nine” experiences often send me right back to the easel.

On the other hand, when sales are slow and my painting inventory stacks up, my self-confidence takes a hit. I begin to doubt my abilities, and I wonder if painting is worth all the frustration and hard work. It's at times like these that I am inclined to avoid the studio altogether.

Some of you who are naturally more secure and emotionally stable than I may not identify with these ups and downs created by positive and negative circumstances, but I thought I'd bring up the topic here on the American Artist forums just in case some of you deal with similar mood swings that come about as a result of everyday experiences.

In times of economic turmoil, such as we're dealing with at the present, it's important that I not let circumstances (either positive or negative) determine how I feel about making my artwork. In fact, I need to learn to base my feelings on reality and know what my strengths and weaknesses are no matter what the art market is doing.

Recently, my art sales have seemed as if they're on a roller coaster—way up and then way down. Rather than let my feelings ride along, I need a new approach to evaluating my situation and my artwork in general. Here is how I'm dealing with a recent slowdown in my sales:

I'm taking time to focus on improving my artwork by copying Old Master paintings, practicing techniques that I find difficult, and trying out new approaches just for fun.
I don't adhere to extreme positive thinking—because sometimes making a situation falsely positive doesn't make my work any better. Similarly, negative thinking can be just as misleading.

So what is true for me as an artist? The fact of the matter is that although I'm a fairly good painter, I'm certainly not the best. To imagine that I'm the best would be buying into a fantasy. On the other hand, my ability has come a long way since my beginning years, and it would be untrue to say that I'm an amateur. The truth: I'm a professional painter who has experienced success and sales. My work has been published, and I've had the honor of learning academically from the very best. This is not bragging; it's the facts, and these facts make me feel good about all the money I've spent on workshops and the effort I've put into becoming a better painter.

That's not to say there isn't room for improvement. You've probably heard it said that artists never stop learning. I fully agree with that statement. For now, the best remedy I can think of—especially when nothing seems to be happening with my art career—is to hone my skills, strive for the next level of expertise, and seek out further education. That way, when the economy does pick up again, I'll be ready with an amazing new body of work. I imagine that some of you are not feeling the recession, and that's a good thing. For the rest of us, it's wise to be thankful for the skills we already have and to "keep on keeping on" by faithfully befriending our studio.

Please feel free to share your remedies for dealing with disappointing events.

Lori Woodward Simons earned a bachelor’s degree in art education from University of Arizona. She has studied watercolor and composition extensively with Sondra Freckelton and Jack Beal. Simons’ work has appeared in several issues of Watercolor, and she is a co-author of the Walter Foster book Watercolor Step by Step. She is a member of The Putney Painters, an invitational group in Vermont. She resides in New Hampshire with her husband, Brian Simons, a software engineer. Visit her website at www.woodwardsimons.com and follow her on Twitter here.

Clutter Causes Confusion

2009-08-17T15:00:00Z

When I meet artists at a workshop or at a convention, they often comment that I must be a highly organized person. Upon hearing this, I laugh inwardly and reply, “I'm organized in my thoughts but not with my stuff.”

Although to-do lists help me get things done, I often either lose the list or get sidetracked and forget to refer back to it. For years, I've been following the advice of organization gurus through their books and online articles, but during the last six months, I've made a discovery: I've been following the advice of left-brained organization experts who are most likely well-organized to begin with. I employ a right-brained approach for nearly everything I do. In other words, I'm visually oriented.

Since my mind tends to organize itself by what my eyes see, it makes sense that if I enter a studio that's filled with clutter, I'm less likely to begin working anytime soon. If my references and tools were set up and in order, I'd clearly see what the next step is, and I'd walk over to my easel and get to work. On the other hand, if I've got piles of papers and dirty brushes scattered, my sight can't visually land on what to work on. When this is the case, it requires me to spend my first hour in the studio organizing my stuff while ignoring my muse. Often, I run out of energy before I even get started on my painting.

Clutter causes confusion, confusion leads to stress, stress can develop into avoidance, and avoidance often results in procrastination. Yes, I have seen artists who work in a mire of clutter yet work productively, but I suspect that either their clutter is highly organized or else they can block out everything but the painting they're working on. I'm not that efficient at blocking out my surroundings.

I work most efficiently when my studio is neat and my supplies are clean and set out where I can see them. When I set up my references and supplies the night before, I can enter the studio and know exactly what the next step of my work process is. I feel relaxed, inspired, and ready for work.

Welcome To "The Artist's Life"

2009-07-31T11:00:00Z

Before getting started, I'd like to express my gratitude to the American Artist editors for providing me this space to share my experiences as a professional, but sometimes struggling, artist with their readers. It is a pleasure to be able to give back to the artist community because I have gained much through both online and off-line friends and acquaintances.

My plan is to post here twice a month on a variety of aspects that relate to "Living The Artist's Life." In the future, I plan on touching on such topics as right-brained organization techniques, art marketing advice, thoughts about professional artist ethics and etiquette, building a cohesive body of work, how to converse with collectors, and things I've learned from the Masters.

Revisiting the 20-Hour Challenge

A few months ago, I made the following statement on Twitter: “I'm challenging myself to put in 20 hours a week of pure studio work, anyone want to join me?” In the hours that followed, several artists who have huge followings on Twitter “retweeted” my original statement, and to my surprise my idea became a movement.

My guess is that artists responded to this idea of a 20-hour challenge, because most of us know, deep inside, that we need to challenge ourselves to stay on track with our time in the studio. When our studios are set up at home, we're pulled away by daily responsibilities and distractions. For some of us, convincing ourselves to get to the studio is a daily struggle. That's why I have challenged myself to get 20 hours of work completed each week. Sure, there are weeks when I can't be in the studio, but if I make the effort to get there on a regular basis, sooner or later, being there will become a habit.

The Artist Life Is Complex

During the 1980s, I worked for a computer company, and when my husband and I moved to Albuquerque, I decided to quit my job and get back into art. I enrolled in watercolor classes given by a local teacher, and within a few years, decided to “go professional” as a full time painter. While in theory, taking on an art career seemed comparatively simple to working full time at a computer company, it quickly became apparent that running a business as a full time artist is a complex undertaking. Working at home and juggling studio time with life's other responsibilities can be daunting.

My days are complex and fractured. I often feel like there’s no way on earth that I’ll get everything that I have and want to do done. My tasks are like spinning plates, and occasionally I let some fall and crash, but if I choose to ignore my studio time too often, I can hardly call myself an artist by occupation. The fact remains that if I don't practice good work habits, my art career will go nowhere That's why I've given myself this challenge—to stay accountable and pursue my art career seriously. I've been in a state of denial about this for some time, but now I'm now facing reality so that I can make my career dreams come true.

Some artists who've joined the challenge work full time jobs and are only able to pledge five hours of studio time. Others have pledged 10 hours. Many are seeing 20 hours as a good number to start with and I've spoken to a few artists who put in over 40 hours per week. These few don't seem to really need the challenge, but perhaps they might be willing to share how they regulate tasks and time.

Every Hour Spent With Your Artwork is Time Invested in Your Future

It also doesn't matter if your work is top notch every time—just working daily will help you grow artistically. So let's encourage each other in this pursuit! I, of course can’t be the sole captain of this challenge. If I spend all my time replying and encouraging other artists, I won't get much work done, but if we all chip in a word of encouragement, I expect we'll see artists everywhere putting in a few more hours than they would have otherwise.

In future posts, I'll cover topics that are related to time management issues and right-brained organization techniques that I've been experimenting with. While some readers may think that I'm a highly-organized person, I admit that, while my brain is fairly organized, my "stuff" is not. I look forward to sharing ideas with you all and invite you all to share your ideas and experiences with others on this forum.