15 results for “installation”
I had a gallery ask me to deliver the work, install it myself, and pick it up after the show, all at my own cost. No mention of covering transport, no help with hanging. Just "you bring it, you hang it, you take it back." I said no and walked. What's the most they've asked you to cover that felt less like a partnership and more like you were their supplier?
Had a gallery offer last year. Small space, not a bad spot. They wanted 50% and I had to deliver, install, label, and patch the walls on the way out. I told them no. Maybe that's normal now but it didn't sit right. What's the line for you? What are you willing to do and what makes you walk?
I got a commission last year for a new piece at a decent European museum. 12k seemed like real money when I signed. Then I priced the steel, the timber, the electronics for the sound element, the rented van to haul it all, the two assistants I had to pay properly because I'm not an exploitative prick. By the time the thing was built and installed I'd spent about seven and a half. The rest covered four months of my life. I ate it because the work was good and I wanted it to exist and I'll probably do it again. The math never works if you count your own time. You have to not count it. That's the trick. You make art because you're compelled to and you finance it however you can and you pretend the hours don't exist. But sometimes late at night you do the math anyway and it's genuinely funny how bad it is. Like actually funny. I laughed out loud when I worked it out. Younger artists ask me how to price things. I tell them charge more than feels comfortable and then double it. Then I watch them not do that and I understand completely because I also don't do that.
I sold a piece last year through a gallery in Berlin. Big installation, months of work, shipping a truckload of steel and glass across two borders. The collector paid 18,000 euros. By the time the gallery took their 50 percent, the trucking company charged me for the special crating I couldn't do myself, the assistant I hired for the install, and the hotel I stayed in because the loading dock appointment was at 7am and I don't know anyone in Berlin who'd let me sleep on their floor at 56, I looked at the bank transfer and it was 3,400 euros. The framer who built the crate made more than I did. I know because I asked him what he charged. He told me. Nice guy. He earned it. I'm not telling this as a sob story. I agreed to the terms. I just keep thinking about how the whole system is built so that the people who touch the work for ten minutes make more than the person who spent four months making it exist. And we all nod and say that's how it works. But it's funny, no. You spend your whole career getting to a number like 18,000 and then you do the math and realise you'd have been better off framing other people's pictures.
Last year a German foundation commissioned a permanent installation for their new building lobby. Big civic space, lots of foot traffic. They had the budget. I quoted €28,000. I spent six months collecting material. Three months building. Two weeks installing on site with a helper. When I finally sat down and divided the total by hours, I landed just under €9 an hour. Before tax. Before the studio rent I still paid while I was working on their thing instead of my own. I knew it while I was doing it. You always know. You just don't do the division because the number is embarrassing and also you want the work to exist, you want it in that building, you want to see people walk through it. So you pretend the math doesn't apply to you. I don't regret it. The piece is good. But I keep the calculation now. I write the hours down from the start. I still ignore them sometimes but at least I'm lying to myself with full information.
First gallery I ever worked with sent me a list of shipping requirements longer than their contract. Specific box dimensions, exact void fill, white gloves for handling, photos of every step. I thought it was ridiculous until the first piece arrived cracked because I skimped on the packing. What's the most unreasonable delivery or install requirement a gallery ever gave you? And did they turn out to be right?
I did the math on a commission last week. Big public piece, welded steel, seven months from first sketch to install. After materials, shop rent, the kid I hired to help with the welding, and the cut the fabricator took for the base plates I don't have the equipment to make myself, I came out to $7.50 an hour. I remember when I started out I'd have been thrilled with that. Thrilled. Now I look at it and think what the hell am I doing. The worst part is the client was happy. Paid on time, no complaints. So the price felt fair to them. It's me who underpriced it, because I still think like the guy who's grateful anyone wants the work at all. My wife used to say I had no idea what my own time was worth and she was right. Three years since she passed and I still hear her saying it. Anyone else do the math on a finished job and feel like a damn fool?
I had a piece in a group show maybe five, six years ago. Collector came around, liked it, asked the gallery for my contact. Wanted it for his private collection, he said. But the price, could I do better if we went direct, no gallery cut? I was between shows, rent was due, so I said yes like an idiot. Knocked off almost forty percent. He paid in two installments, took his time on the second one. Six months later I see the same piece at a design auction in London. Estimate was three times what he paid me. Sold for above estimate. I should be angry but mostly I respect the play. Guy saw me coming from across the room. I was the one who said yes.
Back in 2009 I had a show in a small gallery in Brno that no longer exists. The gallery put up a basic website with installation shots. When the gallery closed, the domain died but the PDF of that exhibition somehow stayed live on some forgotten server subfolder. Last year a curator from Oslo emailed me. Said she found that PDF through a deep Google search while researching a specific material I used. She'd been looking for anyone working with industrial felt and rusted steel in that particular way. The PDF was the only document online that showed it. She booked a studio visit. I got two museum shows out of it. Norway, of all places. Meanwhile I'd been stressing about Instagram, trying to shoot better video, wondering if the algorithm hated me. And the thing that worked was a dead link from 15 years ago that I didn't even know existed. I don't know what the lesson is. Leave things online and don't delete them, I suppose. The internet forgets slower than we think. Or maybe it's that the useful person is always looking in the wrong place and you can't predict where they'll dig.
I carved a granite bench a few years back for a public garden. Had to source the stone from a quarry two states away, rented a flatbed to haul it, worked it on and off for two months because there were other jobs in between. Sold it for $1,200. That's maybe a dollar an hour if you count research, travel, the rental, the chisels I dulled, and the sanding pads. I knew it at the time and I still said yes. I told myself it was a "public installation" and that was worth something. But the garden closed three years later and I heard the bench got hauled away with the trash. I don't know what the right number was. Double maybe. But what I do know is I priced the materials and my time separately and left out everything else. The knowledge, the years of figuring out how to carve granite without splitting it, the fact that I knew which quarry to call. That all went for free. I still do it. Not as bad, but I still leave money on the table somewhere. Hard habit to break when you started out thinking you should be grateful anyone paid you at all.
A marketing consultant reached out saying she could "systematize my audience growth." I told her I don't have an audience, I have maybe 400 people who care about industrial salvage installations in Prague. She said that's exactly the problem. So for a month I let her try. She had me post on a schedule, use certain words, track when people engaged most. I did it. Numbers went up slightly. Total new people who actually came to a studio visit or wrote something that showed they understood what I'm doing: zero. The thing is my work takes six weeks to build and you walk through it in ten minutes. You can't optimize that. You can't gamify someone standing in a room full of old factory parts and feeling something. I told her I think the disconnect was that my work is slow and her job is to make things fast. She said I was being resistant. She wasn't wrong. But neither was I. I don't know what the proper social media strategy is for work that takes months and asks for patience. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe the answer is just keep making the rooms and the people who need to find them eventually will.
Early in my career I bid a municipal project, a 10-foot eagle in granite for a courthouse plaza. I was so hungry for the job I priced it at $14,000. I spent six months on it, ate every hour of fabrication and travel and installation, and after materials and the foundry work on the base I cleared about $2,000. That's not counting the months I spent waiting for the city to pay me. I learned nothing from it because I did the same thing twice more after that. You don't learn from losing money. You learn from getting so tired of being broke that you finally stop. I still see that eagle sometimes when I drive through that town. It's a good piece. I just gave it away.
Group show in Berlin, 2019. Curator with a good reputation, well-known space, the whole thing sounded serious. She said there was no budget for artist fees but the exposure would be valuable. I was between shows anyway so I said yes like a fool. I built a room installation. Three weeks of work, rented a van to drive materials up from Prague, stayed in a friend's flat but still bought food and beer for two weeks, paid an assistant for two days of help mounting things. I kept receipts out of spite, I think. Total cost to me: 38,400 CZK. About 1,500 euros then. The exhibition got a mention in Artforum online. One collector came through and later commissioned a small piece. That commission paid 800 euros. So I lost 700 euros and gained a line in a newsletter nobody remembers. I tell young artists this story now and they nod and then they still do the same thing. I did it too when I was their age. Maybe you have to learn it yourself.
Finished a welded steel piece for a lawyer's office lobby. Took longer than I estimated because he wanted changes mid-stream. Nothing crazy, but three rounds of "can you tweak the angle on that armature" adds up. Charged $3,800. That's what I quoted. When I added up the actual hours including consultation, drafting, material sourcing, the revisions, the install, and the drive back and forth to his building, it came to about 890 hours of my time. $4.27 an hour. I know the mistake was my estimate. I know I should have written the contract tighter. I know I'm the one who agreed to the changes without adjusting the price. All of that is on me. But I'm 61 years old and I've been doing this for thirty years and I still get it wrong on the math side. You'd think that would get easier. It doesn't. The work part gets easier. The money part stays the same trap it always was. What do you actually do when the numbers tell you your skill is worth less than minimum wage?
