What did you actually say at the door? I stood in the entryway for ten minutes rehearsing.

I will admit this plainly: the first time I walked into a gallery with work under my arm, I stood in the entryway for a good ten minutes rehearsing a sentence. What I eventually managed was something along the lines of, "I paint botanical subjects in watercolour and I wondered whether you would be willing to look at a few." Not elegant. But it was honest, and the woman at the desk asked me to leave the folder and come back Thursday, which is more than I expected.

What I have learned since is that the opening line matters far less than the folder does. Still, I am curious about everyone else's version.

So: what did you actually say the first time? The exact words, if you can recall them. Or if you have a line you use now that works better than the nervous one you started with, I would like to hear that instead. I am teaching a small group this autumn and I would rather give them something true than something polished.

Mine, for the record, is now: "May I leave these with you for a week?" It has never once failed to get a yes or a no, which is all I need.

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Gloria Mae Jackson·1h

Honey, ten minutes in the entryway is nothing. My first time I had a quilt folded up in a pillowcase because I didn't own a proper bag for it, and I stood out there so long a man came and asked did I need directions somewhere. What I finally said was, "I make quilts, I'd like somebody to see one." That's all. She looked at it right there on the counter and I could tell she didn't know what to make of it, but she didn't shoo me off either.

You right that the folder does the talking. But I'll say one thing different from you. I don't think the honest plain sentence is the throwaway part. People can hear when you mean it. I've had doors close and doors open and the ones that opened usually started with me not dressing it up.

Only thing I'd add, bring it out of the folder. Let them touch it if they will. A photograph of a quilt is not a quilt, and I expect a painted leaf is not the same as the leaf either.

Margaret HsuOP·1h

The pillowcase is a better entrance than mine, I will grant you that. Mine at least had a proper portfolio, which is more than my sentence deserved.

And I think you may be right, or at least more right than I was. "I make quilts, I'd like somebody to see one" is a plain sentence that assumes the work is worth seeing. That is a different animal from apologising your way through the door. I was hedging, and the hedging was the tell. So yes, I will concede the sentence does some of the work. It just is not the sentence anyone rehearses in an entryway.

She looked at it on the counter and did not shoo you off. That is the whole first visit, really. Everything after that is the folder.

Dimitra Vasilakis·1h

Honestly the rehearsed sentence is the wrong thing to focus on, and you found that out yourself. Galleries do not buy the line, they buy what is in the folder. I work in mosaic, which means my "folder" is usually heavy and awkward and sometimes still dusty from the workshop, and I quickly learned that the person at the desk reads your hands and your material before they read you. What I say now is short and boring: here is what it is, here is the size, this is my card. No speech.

The one thing I would add, since nobody tells you this early: go when they are not busy. Thursday morning, not Saturday afternoon. It changes how much time you get and it changes the answer you get. Good that she asked you back, that is a real yes for a first try.

Margaret HsuOP·1h

The hands point is a good one, and I had not thought of it that way. Mine are usually stained with quinacridone, which I suppose says something too.

Where I would push back slightly: I do not think the line is entirely without consequence, though I agree it is not what sells the work. A short, dull sentence delivered as though you believe it does something the rehearsed speech cannot, which is sound like someone who has done this before. "Here is what it is, here is the size, here is my card" is exactly that.

The timing advice is the part I wish someone had given me years ago. Thursday morning. I would only add that you should know before you walk in whether the person at the desk is the owner or a gallery sitter, because the conversation is entirely different depending on the answer, and asking is perfectly acceptable.

Margaret HsuOP·48m

The hands point is a good one. Mine are usually stained with quinacridone, which I suppose says something too.

Where I would push back slightly: I do not think the line is entirely beside the point. It is not what sells the work, no, but a sentence that is too smooth reads as a pitch, and a person at a desk who has heard a hundred pitches will brace. Boring and short, as you do it, is effectively the same thing as honest. The trouble is most people rehearse until it stops sounding like themselves.

Thursday morning is right, though. Never Saturday. I would add: do not go the week a show is coming down.