Search

Had someone message me about a commission back in February. Wanted a small piece, maybe 40x40cm, in mostly smalti. We went back and forth for two weeks, she wanted a discount, wanted free shipping, wanted me to throw in a smaller piece "as a gesture." I held my ground, said the price is the price, and eventually she went quiet. I figured she'd moved on. Three weeks later the full amount shows up in my bank account with a one-line email: "Same dimensions as discussed, please proceed." No apology, no explanation. Just the money. I made the piece, shipped it, never heard from her again. Not even a photo of it on a wall. I still don't know what to make of that interaction. Part of me thinks she tested me and I passed. Part of me thinks she just got tired of negotiating and decided to pay. Either way, the lesson I keep landing on is: if you're confident the work is worth what you're asking, the haggling either resolves itself or it doesn't, and either outcome is fine. You don't have to win every conversation. Just don't be the one who folds first.

I sent my first gallery email with zero idea what I was doing. Didn't even have a proper artist statement, just three photos and a "hola, here's my pots" energy. They said yes anyway somehow. Now I look back and laugh, but also cringe at how unprepared I was on pricing, on commission, on all of it. What's the thing you wish someone had told you before that first conversation? Something nobody warns you about. For me it's that the gallery takes their cut off the top and suddenly your "sold!" celebration is doing math in your head. Worth it still. But I wish I'd had the numbers ready. Tell me I'm not the only one who went in blind.

Looking back I was so desperate to be taken seriously I probably said yes to things I shouldn't have. My first group show, the gallery took 60% and I was just grateful. I didn't even think to ask about insurance or how they handled unsold work. I wish someone had told me I could negotiate. That it wasn't a favor, it was a transaction. What do you wish you'd known? Or what did you know that saved you?

I've got one so far and it was so bad I still think about it years later. Owner told me, straight face, that pastel "isn't a serious medium" and maybe I should "try oils if I wanted to be taken seriously." I just stood there and then left. Didn't even say goodbye, which is not like me at all. What's the worst thing someone in a gallery has said to your face? The one that made you want to just turn around and leave. I need to know I'm not the only one who's done it 🙂

Got an email today from a man who bought a large piece from me two years ago. He wants to borrow it back for an evening. Not for a show, not for a museum, not even for a private viewing with a serious buyer. For a dinner party. He says it would "elevate the conversation." I sat with that for a while. There's a section in my contract about loans, and it's about insurance and condition reports and handling. Nowhere in there is a clause for "my wife wants the guests to see something on the wall that looks like it means something." I said no, as politely as I could manage in writing. He wrote back saying he was "surprised by the gatekeeping." That word. Gatekeeping. As if years of making the thing, and the fact that it's heavy and oil and wax and can't be shoved in a taxi, counts as some petty power trip. What I actually wanted to say is that the painting does its work in the studio and on a wall where someone chooses to live with it. It's not a conversation starter. It has nothing to offer a room full of people who will glance at it once over the wine and move on. That's not snobbery, it's just what the work is. Slow. You have to come back to it. I didn't say any of that. I said "not possible at this time." Which is the grown-up way of saying no without explaining yourself. But honestly, the fact that I had to be the one keeping the dignity of the thing he owns and I made. That sits wrong.

I did a craft fair a couple weekends ago and made $64 total, but $40 of it came from two people I stopped being "the seller" with and just talked to like a normal human. One was a woman who asked a technical question about how I get the sky so smooth in acrylics, which turned into a 15 minute conversation about gesso and soft brushes, and she bought two small prints before she left. The other was a guy who told me his mom used to paint and we just stood there talking about her for a while. He bought one. I'm not saying this is some genius insight. But I spent the other five hours half-smiling at people and getting ignored, and the money came out of the two actual conversations. Kind of makes me wonder how much of my online posting is the equivalent of that half-smile at strangers. All these process reels and behind the scenes stuff I do, and it's the one-to-one stuff that actually moves anything. Anyway, back to my day job tomorrow. The fair was fun but I came home with more unsold inventory than I know what to do with lol.

Had a gallery interested once. They loved the work. Then the conversation went to "could you do it in a smaller format, more affordable, maybe something people can hang in a hallway." And I knew, they wanted my work but not really. They wanted something that looked like my work but cost less and took up less wall. I said no. Probably lost the chance. Don't regret it. Anyone else had the "we love it but can you make it..." conversation? Where did you draw the line?

I'm thinking about the moments that surprised you in a good way with a gallery. For me it was maybe ten years ago, first meeting with a gallerist in Berlin. I brought my usual folder, ready for the standard conversation. She'd read my artist statement. Actually read it. Asked me about a line in it about layering as a form of memory, and I realised she'd thought about it more than I had in years. I didn't get the show. Didn't matter. That conversation changed how I thought about the work. What's a gallery interaction that surprised you, something that restored a bit of faith?

A gallery I was in conversation with last year asked for exclusive representation of every single piece I produce, including work they would never exhibit or sell, studies, private commissions, teaching demonstration pieces. I told them no, and the conversation ended rather quickly. Has anyone else run into this kind of exclusivity clause? Where do you draw the line? I understand a gallery wanting commitment on what they show, but ownership of everything that leaves your brush seems a step too far to me.

Okay I need to know if this is just me or if this is normal because I'm still kind of reeling from it haha. So I reached out to this gallery back in like... April? Small-ish contemporary space in a city a few hours from me, really liked their vibe, sent a thoughtful email with some images. Heard nothing. Cool, whatever, I figured it was a no and moved on. Then in August I get this email from them like "hey! we'd love to see more of your work, are you free to chat next week?" No apology for the 4 month silence, no explanation, just acting like we'd been in conversation the whole time. I was so thrown I almost didn't reply but I did and the conversation actually went fine? But I still can't tell if this is just how galleries operate sometimes or if it's a red flag I should've ran from. What's the longest a gallery has left you hanging before getting back to you, and was it worth it in the end? Did they turn out to be great to work with or was the ghosting a sign of what was coming? I need stories so I know whether to feel good about this or not lol.

I've never actually gotten into a gallery (local fairs are my whole scene), but I've had a few conversations at open studio weekends and one owner told me my work was "nice, like something you'd see in a dentist's office." I just laughed and moved on because what else do you do. But it stuck with me for a week. 😅 What's the least professional thing you've let slide in a gallery conversation? Looking back, would you have handled it differently or was smiling and moving along the right call?

I had a booth at a local craft fair Saturday and a woman picked up one of my acrylic landscapes, looked at it for a good minute, and said "oh this is nice, I could probably do this with my daughter's $5 watercolor set." And I just stood there like... okay. So do it then? I'd love to see you mix titanium white into a puddle of Crayola paint and get that kind of coverage on canvas. Please. Film it. I didn't say any of that of course. I smiled and said "you should give it a try, it's really relaxing!" and she moved on. My husband said I was too nice and I probably was but also what's the point. People who think art supplies are all the same are not people you're going to convince in one conversation at a folding table. Still felt like packing up my easel and going home though.

I still get a little annoyed thinking about this. Had a gallery interested in showing some of my landscapes a couple years back, which felt huge for me at the time. Then in the conversation they mentioned I'd be expected to cover the catering for the opening night. Not split, not share, me, fully. I was so flattered by the offer I almost said yes before common sense kicked in. What's the weirdest thing a gallery has asked you to pay for or provide? I want to know if the wine thing is actually normal somewhere or if I was right to walk.

Took on a piece last month I had a bad feeling about from the first call. Client kept saying "modern" and "organic" and I should've known those two words don't sit together in steel. Now I'm three weeks in and fighting the material to make something that's neither. My own fault. I've got a rule about turning down work when the first conversation feels like a puzzle instead of a handshake and I broke it because the money was good. The honest part: the fabrication is fine. It'll hold up. That was never in question. It's just dead on arrival and I know it, and the client will love it because they don't know any better, and that's the part that sits wrong. Charging someone for a thing you'd never stand behind if your name went on the plinth. Anyway. Ten more days and it's out of the shop. Next time I remember why I made the rule.

A gallery owner once told me at an opening, "your work is exactly what we're looking for, we must talk properly." I followed up twice over three months. Casual warm replies, never a date, never a no. Then it just faded. I still don't know if it was politeness, or if I said something wrong, or if that's just how it works sometimes. I've started asking myself: is an enthusiastic "we must talk" from a gallerist worth anything at all, or is it just the sound they make at openings? And at what point do you stop chasing and file it under noise? Curious if anyone has actually turned one of those warm-nothing conversations into an actual show. Or do you write it off the moment there's no calendar in the first reply?

Small gallery in Lisbon took interest in the cyanotypes a few months ago. They asked for the usual things, then asked how many followers I had. I said about nine hundred and they went quiet for a while. I thought that was the end of it. They wrote back last week with a date. The woman said she'd rather work with someone whose work she actually saw in person than someone with thirty thousand followers who can't hold a conversation about paper. I keep thinking about how close that came to nothing. Nine hundred of those followers are probably bots and family. The two or three collectors I have found me through a newsletter I send maybe eight times a year, mostly just photos of the prints drying and the sea that day. No strategy. I just got tired of performing for the algorithm and started doing the one thing I actually like, which is showing the work itself. Not sure this scales into advice. Just glad quiet work still has a door that opens sometimes.

I have this one stick of willow charcoal I've kept for like four years, only ever use it for the same piece. It's down to a nub now, maybe two inches, and the thought of finishing it is weirdly paralyzing. Every time I pick it up I think this might be the last pass it's got in it. I know that's not rational. I could buy a hundred more for twelve bucks. But this specific one came from the first batch of supplies I bought when I actually started taking this seriously, right after my brother's stuff stopped being boxes and started being material. So it's got history in it, whatever that means. Anyway I used it today on the piece I'm working on, a portrait made from my father-in-law's old letters, torn up. And it's fine. It's just charcoal. But I keep having this conversation with myself about whether finishing it is a good thing or an ending, and I can't tell which. Do other people do this with a tool? Hold onto the last of something like it's going to vanish when it's gone?

first time I ever talked to a gallery owner I told them "your space is cool, it'd look better with my stuff in it" and I meant it as a joke and then also as a threat?? and somehow we ended up having a conversation about it and now they're one of my best contacts. zero strategy, pure unearned confidence. so what's the most embarrassing thing that came out of your mouth in front of someone who could actually help you and it worked anyway? or did it backfire spectacularly, also great. need stories to feel better about my life

A gallery in Berlin asked for my follower count before they'd even look at slides. Not my CV, not my exhibition history, not the work. Just the number. I told them 4,800 and the conversation cooled about ten degrees. They said they'd "keep me in mind." I've been painting seriously for thirty years. Thirty. I remember when a gallery would come to your studio and stand in front of the canvas for fifteen minutes before saying anything. Naja. I can't even be angry, I'm too tired for it. But I keep thinking about what that number actually measures. It measures how well I perform for strangers on a phone. It doesn't measure a single thing about whether the work is any good. The irony is I'm not even a Luddite about it. I post, I show the process, I answer comments. My daughter set up the whole account for me and I've learned to tolerate it. But I refuse to make the account the point. I'll take the smaller galleries, the ones that still come to the studio and stand in front of the wall for a while. There are fewer of them every year, but they exist. I don't know what the answer is. I just know I didn't spend my twenties learning to draw so that my worth could be decided by an algorithm in California.

the first gallery that gave me a real conversation told me my work was "interesting but not commercial" and i didn't know if that was a compliment or a warning. turned out it was both lol. still think about it years later. what's the most memorable thing, good or bad, a gallerist has said to you that stuck? the kind of line you still replay in your head