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She came to the studio today. I've been sending her photos for like two years but she's never actually touched any of it until now. She picked up this lopsided little vessel with a face pressed into the side, one I almost scrapped because the glaze crawled weird, and she just held it for a minute. Then she said the glaze looked like the old robes on the figures from her village in Extremadura, the ones they'd bring out for Christmas, all blotchy and wrong but full of something. I don't think she knows how much that meant. She's the one person who never made me feel stupid for doing this, even when I was living off tortilla de patatas and rage. I made her take a piece home, the one she liked. She tried to say no. I won.

Y'all ever walk into a gallery and they say yes so fast it gives you pause? I had one a few years back, lady barely looked at my photos, just said "love it, we'd be honored, let's get you on the calendar." And you know what? It was all talk. Never returned a single email after that. I've learned the hard way that a quick yes don't always mean a good yes. Sometimes the ones that take their time, ask real questions, want to see the work in person, those are the ones that follow through. What's your experience? Did a fast yes ever work out for you, or did it fizzle like mine?

Had a gallery reach out to me recently, or rather, someone claiming to scout for one. Seemed excited, asked for my portfolio, then came back with a list of things I should change before they could "consider" showing the work. Make the palette warmer. Fewer buildings, more people. Can I add more "local flavour", their words. I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. You haven't even seen the work in person and you already want me to be someone else? Anyway I politely declined. But it got me thinking, has anyone else had a gallery approach you and then immediately start asking for changes before they've even taken the work? Where do you draw the line between feedback and them wanting you to fit a mould?

There's a Saturday market in Galway I've been doing on and off for maybe twelve years. Rain, hail, the odd glorious day where everyone's in great form. And I used to think the point of it was to shift prints, which it is, but the real thing it taught me is how to talk to people about what you make without sounding like you're selling. You get all sorts at a stall. The tourist who wants something that says Ireland without being a leprechaun on a toilet. The local who stops because they recognise the pier or the mountain. The person who clearly loves the work but hasn't got thirty quid and stands there turning a card over in their hands. And you learn, quick, that the ones who buy aren't the ones you try to convince. They're the ones you just talk to, normally, about the carving or the ink or the hare that lives in the field behind your house and won't let you get near it. The thing that stuck with me is this: I've never sold a print by telling someone how good it is. I've sold plenty by telling them the story of the night I carved it and nearly took the tip of my finger off, or how the block got dropped in a puddle and the crack became part of the print. People want the thing behind the thing. They don't want a pitch. Anyway. The market's grand for that. But online, I still catch myself trying to sound like a proper business instead of just a fella in a jumper with ink under his nails. And the minute I do that, engagement drops off a cliff. The posts that work are always the ones where I forget I'm supposed to be marketing and just talk about what happened today. Sure I don't know where I'm going with this except that the best marketing advice I ever got was from a woman buying a print of a heron who said "just tell me why you made it" and walked away with two.

okay who else has the "gallery that just sat on everything and never said a word" story i dropped off a series at a small space, she seemed genuinely into it, said she'd be in touch. eight months. i emailed twice, got vague replies. finally went in person and she'd forgotten my work was even there. just had it stacked in a back room collecting dust. no show, no interest, no nothing. took it home in a garbage bag. i know i should've had a contract. i know. what's your "i should have walked out the door" gallery moment

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.

got a response from a gallery i submitted to in 2022 the other day. "we've reviewed your work and would love to..." girl it's been two years. i have a whole different body of work. i'm a different person. i don't even like those paintings anymore lol what's the longest you've waited for a gallery to get back to you? and did you still take the meeting or were you petty about it like i was

cleaned my entire workspace yesterday. spent like 2 hours reorganizing, threw out old dried up paint tubes, wiped down the palette, the whole thing. looked at it and felt very adult and put together. woke up this morning and it already looks like a bomb went off. there's a rogue paint lid stuck to my forearm and i don't remember when that happened. i think the desk just reproduces chaos overnight when i'm not looking. it's personal at this point. anyway the painting i'm working on is going fine but the space around it is actively hostile. who else's studio is just a controlled disaster that you've given up on pretending to tame

I'm thinking about reaching out to a couple of galleries soon. Do you prefer to email first, or has anyone had success with an in-person visit to introduce yourself and your work? I'm curious about what feels most effective.

My old desk lamp finally gave up today. One of those architect-style ones with the spring arm, bought secondhand when I was still in art school. I've replaced the bulb maybe four times, the shade is dented, the spring has a visible kink in it. But I knew exactly where to position it to get the light to fall on the paper the way I wanted. Now I'm standing in the studio with the overheads on and everything feels wrong, which is ridiculous because it's just a lamp. I went online to look for the same model and found it immediately. Haven't ordered it yet. I think what bothers me is the idea of a new one that doesn't have the dents and the history. That's not rational. Anyway. Currently working under the ceiling light like a person in a waiting room.

I got so sick of the game I just stopped. No stories, no posts, nothing. Three weeks of radio silence while I painted in my studio like it was 2015 before I cared what anyone thought. And suddenly people are sliding into my DMs asking if I'm okay, if I'm still making work, can they buy that piece from two years ago?? One person found my website through a blog post I wrote in 2022 and commissioned a portrait. A PORTRAIT. Off a blog I forgot existed. I'm not saying "go silent and they'll come running" because that's another flavor of hustle brain nonsense. But damn. The amount of energy I've burned performing for an algorithm that doesn't care vs just... existing and letting people find me when they need to. I don't know what to do with that information honestly.

ok what's the worst gallery ghosting story you've got. not the rejection, i mean the ones that actually showed your work and then just... evaporated. i had one where the owner went completely dark after the closing. wouldn't answer emails, wouldn't return paintings. i had to show up in person three months later and she acted like she'd never met me. got my work back but she still owes me like $800. at this point it's the principle. anyone else get fully erased post-show or was that just my lucky break

I've been with the same gallery since 2009. They sold my work. They took their cut. We didn't talk about it much. It worked. Got an email last week from their new director. Young guy. Said they're shifting focus to artists with "stronger direct engagement." Which means they want me to do their job for them online. I got a 400-pound granite piece in my studio right now that nobody's seen. I'm trying to figure out if I should drag it out and film myself grinding on it, or just keep working and see what happens. Neither option feels right. Anyone else getting this from their gallery lately? The "we love your work but also can you become a content creator" talk?

I got a no once from a gallery I really respected. Took me three weeks to write the email, sent it, two days later the owner replied personally, not interested but kind about it, said come back with new work in a year. I was disappointed but I still think well of her. It's the ones who just never reply that get me. I sent a query last spring. Heard nothing. Followed up politely two months later. Nothing. Still sitting in their inbox, presumably. I'd rather get a "no thanks" in five minutes than be left hanging for six months. What's your cutoff? Do you follow up once and wash your hands, or do you keep nudging until someone tells you to stop? I do one follow-up, then I take the silence as a no and move on. Tell me I'm wrong.

This cheap desk lamp I got at the hardware store, the one I've had for like, five years, just gave up the ghost. Sparked a little, then nothing. Of course it happened while I was trying to get this really delicate wash of grey just right. Spent twenty minutes fiddling with it, then just gave up and stared at the half-finished canvas like it personally offended me. Now the whole corner is too dark to work in. Guess it's an early night. Great.

when you're trying to get into a gallery for the first time, do you email them first or just show up with your work? i've done both and honestly the walk-in worked better for me but i think i just got lucky with the right person at the desk. email felt like throwing things into a hole. i walked into this one spot with a small mixed-media piece in a tote bag, basically sweating, and the owner came out and we talked for 20 minutes. didn't get in that time but she remembered me later. the emails i sent that same year i couldn't even tell you if anyone read. what's your move? have you ever had a cold walk-in actually go somewhere?

someone bought the piece I made from my brother's old work shirts. the one I almost didn't put in the show because it felt too personal, like hanging my grief on a wall for strangers to walk past. the buyer didn't know any of that. she just said it reminded her of her dad's shed. all the things he kept that didn't make sense to anyone else. I wasn't ready for how that would feel. like the piece got adopted into someone else's story. like it's not just mine anymore. still crying about it honestly. good crying.

I had a gallery once that wanted to frame and mount everything before they'd even seen the pieces in person. Insisted on it. I said no, obviously, but it made me wonder, what's the weirdest condition a gallery has tried to put on you before the first show? The thing that made you stop and think, this is not normal.

I've got a shelf full of good rifflers and decent rasps. Swiss-made, proper steel, the kind you order from a catalogue and wait three weeks for. But the file I use most is a Nicholson half-round my father owned. Handle's cracked and I've never replaced it because his hand wore the groove in. It sits loose in the drawer. Every time I pick it up I think about replacing it with something that cuts cleaner, and then I don't. It's not sentimental. It's that the thing works and I know exactly what it does. A new file has a personality you have to learn. This one I already know. I've got a block of limestone on the bench right now that's fighting me. Ragged grain, inclusion running through it like a bad seam. The file handles it fine. I'll probably use it until the teeth go completely flat and then I'll have to figure out what to do with myself.

Still fuming about this from Saturday. I was at an open studio thing, just working on a portrait of an old woman I'd taken a reference photo of at the market. Her face is all lines and light, it took me maybe six hours to get the softness right in the cheek shadows, pastel is not forgiving if you rush it. This woman comes up, looks at it for maybe three seconds, and goes "oh, so realistic. It looks just like a photo. So where's the art in that then?" I just said "well, the photo is right there" and pointed at my phone. She didn't even look. Just walked off. And I sat there thinking, I spent a year learning how to not make pastel look muddy. I know exactly where every highlight on that face came from. I changed the light source entirely from the reference because the original was too flat. But sure. No art. Just copying, right? I didn't say any of that to her. I just smiled and went back to work. But I keep replaying it. Why do people think realism is just... cheating? Like there's no decision-making involved? Anyway. Just needed to put it somewhere. 😅