The Danger of Selling Your Art
The dangers in selling your work are many. My top ones are:
What if no one likes it? (If you are going to get offended if people don’t resonate with your work, you should really, really consider a different line of work. No art or artist is loved by everyone.)
What if it doesn’t sell? (If I stopped creating when my first few pieces didn’t sell right away, well, let’s just say I would have gone back to sewing my clothes and would have donated all my paint.)
What if people think it’s too expensive? (They aren’t your people. There’s a sweet spot where your art resonates and your price is within reach. Lowering your price or chasing the sale is what makes people think artists are starving and will take lower amounts of payment for their work. If you have to make sales to pay the rent or feed yourself - find what works and do that on repeat.)
Here are a couple examples of how selling your work can be a detriment to your personal growth and evolution.
I know an artist who began creating art with the primary intention of selling her work. The season of exploration was short, less than a year. Her work was fine. It had nice colors and she was able to sell small pieces shortly after she started putting it up in shops.
Fast forward about five years and I had the opportunity to see the work she was creating now. It’s remarkably similar, if not exactly the same as it was when she began selling it. I didn’t ask if there was still a market for it. I asked if she was still in love with the process of making it. The answer was a response you might get from a politician. Not a direct answer, rather a change of subject.
I had a ponder on that interaction. After all, my goal as an artist is to continually evolve, grow, explore and improve. So, is it just that she has found something she likes to do and is happy to repeat it? Are the sales the driving force behind her work? Has she found her destination and is not looking to explore any new mediums, methods or colors? I don’t know her answer to any of these questions. I only know what my own creative intentions are.
Another quick story about chasing sales comes to mind. When I started making art, I didn’t think it was very good. I had good instincts on that point. But, it got better and people who saw it wanted to purchase it before I even considered selling it. That went a long way with building my confidence to start exhibiting my work.
With some encouragement, I found a local co-op of artists and submitted my work to the jury. I was thrilled to be invited to join the gallery. I could hang anything I wanted and set the price. I learned how to curate and exhibit my work and I made some very nice sales. Then, after a few months, the gallery owner began encouraging me to make work that he thought people would buy. There’s a yoga studio across the street - paint some Buddhas. There’s a dance event coming - learn to paint ballerinas.
At the time this didn’t feel like pressure, but very quickly it caused me to freeze up. I avoided my studio. I stopped exploring. And when I realized that all of the joy that I felt be going into my studio and creating was being drained by the simple idea that whatever I made had to sell. I left the gallery and spent the next several months getting my confidence back.
The very place that caused me to muster my courage to even submit my work, had broken my confidence to even make work in the first place. Thankfully, I didn’t quit creating all together. I just recognized that I was letting external voices into my head and replaying the comments.
If you want to sell your art, my advice is to consider why you want to sell it. I started selling my work when I had learned enough (read - failed enough) to start making better art. I don’t think about selling it while I’m making it. Often I’m not sure it will even turn out and be something I would consider showing to anyone. I also have stopped attaching value to the number of sales I get. Obviously I’d love to exhibit my work and have every piece sell. Who wouldn’t? But at least now when I put something out in the world and say this is the best I can do right now, I’m happy with myself. The act of creating something that only I could do buoys me up and helps me return again and again to the process.
If it sells, great! I welcome an exchange of my creative energy for your financial energy. If it doesn’t sell right away, I know that I had the joy of making it and I learned something. I solved problems and resolved design issues. The piece that never sells is just a step on the long path that leads my work forward. The destination? I’m not sure. The discovery is what brings me back - not the money.