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okay real talk, cold emailing galleries. do you actually do it? i've sent maybe three in my life and two of them never even opened the email (thanks, tracker). the one that did open it never replied lol. meanwhile i see people talking about "oh yeah i emailed 50 galleries last month" and i'm like... who ARE you. are you real. teach me your ways. my best gallery connections have come from instagram dms or meeting people at markets, not formal emails. maybe that's the way? or maybe i'm just bad at emails. what's your ratio? do you cold email and get replies or is it mostly a waste of time?

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.

Three months wrestling this block. Seven hundred pounds of limestone. Had it laid out on the shop floor all summer, working it from the top and sides because I couldn't tip it without a rig I didn't have. Finally borrowed a neighbor's gantry this weekend, got it upright and onto the base without cracking anything or losing a finger. It's not finished. But it's standing. That's a different thing than lying down. When you work flat you're making a drawing in stone. Standing up, it starts talking back to you. Whole different set of decisions now. Took a photo of it in the afternoon light through the shop door. First time it's looked like a real piece. Might post it later if I don't talk myself out of it.

My first "yes" from a gallery, the owner was enthusiastic, we talked dates, I sent the portfolio, everything felt real. Then nothing. Emails unanswered for weeks. Finally a "we'll circle back" and that was it. I still don't know what happened. Maybe they found someone else, maybe they overbooked, maybe I said something wrong. The silence is its own kind of answer, I suppose. Has this happened to you? A gallery that said yes, meant it in the moment, and then just... disappeared. Did you ever find out why?

ok so back in february a small gallery reached out to me on instagram, loved my work, wanted to talk about a show. i was SO hyped, first real gallery interest since going full-time. we had a zoom, they said they'd send a proposal "next week." then nothing for a month. i followed up, they apologized, said they were restructuring. another month. then "we're still interested, hang tight." and i just... kept hanging?? for six months?? and finally i just said look i need an answer and they were like oh we actually paused programming for the year. and i know a lot of you are gonna say i should've called it way sooner, and you're probably right. but also i feel like there's this weird pressure to be chill and patient and not seem desperate, and galleries know that. so i'm asking, have you ever been strung along like this by a gallery? how long did you wait before you walked? and honestly what's the line between being professionally patient and letting them waste your time??

sent some work to a group show a few years back, first time in a real gallery. showed up to the opening excited as hell and stood by my pieces for like an hour and maybe two people even looked at them. everyone else was networking and drinking free wine and i just stood there feeling like a ghost in my own art. i know openings are weird and half the people are just there to be seen but man it stung. made me wonder if the work even mattered or if it was just about who you know. anyone else have an opening or show where you felt completely invisible? how'd you handle it? i just left early and sulked lol

so i did the thing everyone says you have to do. i made reels for six months straight. process videos, speedpaints, me talking to the camera like a normal person. gave it the real college try. one commission. from a girl i already knew irl. not saying it's dead or whatever, but i spent like 40 hours making those things and i would've been better off just emailing 20 people i wanted to work with. the math is not mathing for me anymore but i keep seeing people insist the algorithm is just about to reward you if you stay consistent. feels like a cope at this point. anyone else quietly dropping platforms or am i just bitter my face doesn't do numbers lol

So I did a little market in this old garage space in El Cabanyal last weekend. Thought it'd be quiet, maybe sell a few small pieces, cover the table fee. I brought a box of seconds, things with cracks, glaze drips, a little jug that leaned so far it looked drunk. I almost didn't unpack them. Put them at the edge of the table for 10€ each, basically clay cost. They went first. People loved them more than the "good" pieces. One woman said the crack in a little cup looked like a lightning bolt and she wanted to drink her morning coffee from it. I had to stop myself from explaining it was a kiln failure. Meanwhile on Etsy I'm fighting the algorithm, paying for ads, packing things in bubble wrap like a warehouse robot. And I made more in four hours sitting in a chair drinking terrible coffee from a thermos, telling people yes that cup is supposed to look like that. I'm not saying markets are the answer for everyone. But I'm starting to think the friction of selling online is getting ridiculous for small makers. You spend more time managing the store than making the thing. At the market you just... show up. Talk to people. Hand them a wonky cup and they love it. Maybe the real hack is just lowering your standards and letting people see the ugly ones lol

I spent six hours yesterday printing the same screen 85 times and somewhere around batch four I started having full conversations with myself out loud. The kind where you catch yourself and think, who am I talking to. Everyone warns you about the technical disasters. Misregistration, bad pull, ink drying on the mesh. Nobody warns you that the real challenge is just staying in the room with yourself and the repetition. It's almost monastic. Or maybe just lonely. I keep a notebook now and just write down whatever stupid thought passes through, yesterday it was "what if I printed this on denim" and "I think I've had three different versions of this thought in three different cities." Anyway. 85 prints, one registration error. I'll take it. But my god the silence gets loud.

neighbor lady down the street asked if i'd do a small piece for her kitchen, something with her late dog in it. i said yes before we even talked price because i've seen her walk that dog's ghost every morning for two years. she showed up today with a canvas bag full of eggs from her chickens and three jars of strawberry jam. said money's tight but she wanted to pay me something real. i hung the little painting on her wall and she cried. not the loud kind. just stood there with her hand over her mouth. i've been paid in worse ways for better work. this one's gonna sit with me for a while.

So I've been full-time for eight months now which means I've been doing all the "okay so I guess I have to market myself" stuff that nobody prepares you for in art school lol. And the thing that actually worked, the thing that got me my first real gallery relationship, was the most humiliating process ever. I spent a weekend sending 40 cold emails. Like, proper ones, with images and links and a real bio. And I got one reply. ONE. And honestly for like two days I was so embarrassed I almost didn't open it because I assumed it was a no too. But it was a yes. A small gallery in a city I'd never been to, but they liked my work and wanted to talk. That one yes turned into a group show, which turned into two commission requests from people who saw the show, which turned into enough money to pay rent for three months without panic-ordering takeout. Anyway I'm not saying cold emailing is the secret sauce, mostly it's just brutal lol. But I think sometimes we hear about the one reply and not the 39 silences. So here's my question I guess: what's the thing you tried that felt stupid or embarrassing or like it wasn't working, and then it kind of... did?

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?

Some woman at a dinner party last week, after I tell her I paint figurative work, she says "oh but abstract is so much easier, right? You don't have to worry about it looking like anything." I did not say what I wanted to say. I said "no, abstraction is its own discipline" like a polite robot. But what I wanted to say is: try painting a hand that looks like a hand and then come talk to me about what's easy. The disrespect is so casual. As if centuries of craft, of learning to see, of mixing a flesh tone that actually breathes, as if that's just the tedious part you get through before you're allowed to make real art. Anyway I came home and scraped a canvas I'd been working on for weeks. Not because of her. But also a little because of her.

A small gallery I've been talking to finally offered me a solo show for next spring. I was buzzing about it for like a day. Then they said the budget for materials is $200. I don't think they're trying to screw me. They're tiny. But $200 barely covers the paper and panel for one large piece, let alone the paint, the medium, the charcoal, the adhesive, the found materials I buy from estate sales. I'd be eating the rest myself and I already have a day job I hate. I said yes because the opportunity is real and I've been wanting this. But I'm already doing the math in my head and it's not great. I have about 8 months. I'm trying to figure out if I can pull this off without it costing me more than whatever I might sell. Anyone else done a show where the "support" was basically symbolic? How did you handle the gap without looking ungrateful?

People talk about the bad galleries, the ones that took too much, paid late, ghosted. But I want to ask about the opposite. The rejection that actually made sense. I sent work to a gallery in Paris a few years ago, small space, good reputation. They wrote back, a real note, not a form, saying they liked the work but it didn't suit their program, they mostly show work that has a more conceptual edge, mine is too straight painterly for them. And you know what? They were right. I was annoyed for a week but they saved me from a bad fit. I think we spend so much energy getting rejected that we forget sometimes the rejection is doing us a favour. What's a rejection you got that you now see was for the best, or at least, not wrong?

I'm still annoyed about this years later. First real gallery interest, small place in a city I won't name, and they said yes to showing my work. Then came the list: I'd pay for the wine, I'd pay for printing the invites, I'd pay for the catering. They'd take 50% and "handle the space." I was so hungry for a show I almost said yes. My wife talked me out of it. What's the worst thing a gallery has asked you to pay for? I want to hear the one that made you laugh after the fact, or the one you actually paid and regretted.

Took me years to say it out loud. Everyone talks about north light like it's sacred, and I have a beautiful big north-facing window in my atelier. But I kept turning my easel away from it, felt guilty about it, kept turning it back, kept being annoyed. Finally last month I moved my setup so my back is to the window and I'm working under a cheap Solux lamp. The light is stable. It doesn't change every twenty minutes. I can actually see my values. I don't know why this felt like a betrayal of something. The romantic version of the painter in the soft daylight is nice for photographs. The real version is me squinting at a passage at 4pm in December, unable to tell if that shadow is too warm or if the sky just went grey again. I'll take the lamp.

I still think about my first gallery. Small place in Leipzig, run by a guy who talked more about wine than painting. I was so relieved someone wanted the work I ignored every sign it wasn't a fit. Lasted eighteen months, then folded. Mine was the wrong yes. But I've heard stories where that first awkward gallery turned into something real. Was your first gallery the right one or the one you learned from?

So a gallery I was talking to, small, not huge, but seemed legit, wanted me to ship them a bunch of pieces on consignment, cover the shipping myself, no guarantee anything would sell. I asked about the split and they sent me their "artist agreement." 70/30 their way. For a solo show. And I'd be paying for the opening night drinks out of my 30%. I laughed and said no obviously. But I'm still thinking about it, what IS normal these days? Like what's an actual fair split for a small gallery that's actually doing the work? I've heard 50/50, I've heard 60/40 artist-favoring, I've heard some places do 70/30 the artist's way if the artist is bringing the collectors. What are y'all actually seeing out there? What's walking-around real vs what's them trying it?

It was at my brother-in-law's place in the 6th. Some woman I'd never met, nice enough, works in tech. We're talking about what I do, she gets excited, says oh you should try Midjourney for your portraits, you can generate the composition and then just paint over it, it saves so much time. I said that's not really how I work. She said no but it's the same thing in the end, the image is what matters. I wanted to ask her if she'd say the same thing to a chef about a microwave meal. But I said something about observation and she changed the subject and I could feel her thinking I was being difficult. The thing is, I spent four years learning to see. Not to copy photographs. To see the actual fall of light across a real face in a real room. The temperature of the shadow under a jaw, the blue that lives in white linen at dusk. If I let a machine decide my compositions, what exactly did I learn? I know we all use reference. I know photography changed painting forever. I'm not a purist. But there's a difference between a tool and a replacement for the whole act of looking. Maybe I'm just old. Maybe in ten years every painter works this way and nobody cares. But I care. I like the slowness. I like being wrong for two hours and then something clicks.