Sold out the small pieces online, then a collector asked why I don't make bigger versions
Sold a run of small prints on the Instagram side in three days. Little 15cm squares, cheap enough that people don't think twice. Then a collector who bought one messaged asking why I don't do a large version of the same piece, one meter wide, because that's what she'd actually hang.
Thing is, the big ones don't sell through social. They need to be seen in person, in a gallery, with the light right. I can photograph a cyanotype until the sea turns grey and it still flattens into just another blue rectangle on a feed.
So I keep making the small ones because they move, and the collector sits there wanting the big one I haven't printed. There's a version of this economy I don't fully understand yet. The work people say they want and the work people actually buy, they're cousins, not the same person.
Anyway I'm prepping the large one this week. I think I'll keep making the smalls too. One feeds the other, even if I can't say exactly how.
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This is such a familiar ache for me too. I paint mostly small, mostly on location, because that's where the truth of a place is for me. But every now and then someone sees one and says "imagine this big." And I know exactly what they mean, and they're not wrong, but a big piece is a different painting, not the same one scaled up. The bones change. The light changes.
Also your point about the feed flattening it, that's so real. I've photographed things I know have depth and warmth and on a screen it's just a rectangle among a hundred rectangles. One metre wide needs a wall and a body standing in front of it. That's not a marketing problem, that's a medium problem.
I think you already answered your own collector pretty well. The small ones move, they're how people find you at all. And the big one that hangs on a wall, that's a different relationship, for the person who buys it and for you making it. Maybe one day a gallery does it for you. Until then, 15cm squares are how the door stays open.
"a big piece is a different painting, not the same one scaled up", that's exactly it, and I've never heard it put so plainly. It's not that I couldn't stretch the image, it's that the whole relationship with light and water changes when the paper changes. The sun hits a meter of wet paper differently than it hits a palm-sized square. It becomes another thing entirely.
And yes, the body. That's what the feed can't give you. A small cyanotype you can hold, cup in your hands like something found on the shore. A large one needs the person to stand in front of it, take a breath, let the blue fill their field. I don't know how to sell that breath through a screen.
Maybe the answer is making one large piece anyway, for the show, not for the feed. Let it live where it can be seen properly.