When January 2024 roared into existence, I had been painting for nearly four years. The bulk of my early paintings are representational but not photo-realistic. I call them abstract well, because I don’t know what else to call them. They are my interpretation of objects, landscapes, food, and animals that, in my mind, are just a bit weird and not like any other style I have encountered. I tell myself it’s okay and someday, someone, somewhere, will vibe with my style. I spent the summer of 2020 teaching myself how to paint, and even though I wrote a book about my painting journey, I was never sure that my work was “good” or would sell.
Fast forward to the summer of 2023, and after more than a year of not creating any paintings, the itch to paint again was getting stronger, so I decided to head back to the canvas. I shot a wonderful photo of a beautiful swan (whom I named Sammy) guarding his island in the middle of Kent Lake. I loved Sammy and thought I would paint him in all his natural glory. Well, the painting did not turn out as planned. It was a horrifying rendition of Sammy (my critique), so I decided I was done with painting “things.” I felt defeated and yearned to find a new path.
A few months later, less ashamed of my Sammy painting, I declared to myself one day, “I will paint abstracts,” although I had no idea where to start or whether I would be successful. Although I knew my frustration with my failure to paint “real” things was the primary fuel that set me in the abstract direction, I also was feeling a strong need to express more of my emotions and thoughts onto the canvas, and I felt abstract painting was the best way to satisfy the urge.
I started my abstract journey by watching videos and reading blogs, and I discovered a world called “intuitive” abstract painting, which felt like the direction I wanted to take. The desire to “feel” my work and leave a part of me on each canvas was strong, so I put a blank canvas in front of me and forged ahead. I painted eight pieces that summer; some I liked, and most I did not. Again, I found myself unsure of my path and began to think that painting was not for me.
As someone who does not know how to quit and also has a tough time with failure, I knew I had to figure out this whole painting thing, or die trying. In October, I signed up for some pricey art marketing training, hoping it would jumpstart my art business and my confidence in my art.
From the moment I picked up my first brush in 2020 and created a painting, a voice in my head, sometimes softly and many times at the level of a scream, would ask, “is this good, or a piece of shit?” Over 120 paintings later, I still couldn’t shake the voice and the question, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that the only one I needed to please with my art was myself. I don’t trust that idea, although I often see it mentioned in other artists’ writings and videos.
I brought this question to my new-found training group, hoping to find an answer. They told me, “The only way to know your art is good is to get it out there.” Boom!
The answer I received seemed quite logical, and I chose to believe it. And in my “go big or go home” fashion, I decided to apply to as many art shows as possible for the summer of 2024. My obsession to get the answer I was looking for ignited a fire in me, even though I knew the answer could be positive or negative. I was ready, and I had to know the truth.
Realizing I needed both inventory for the shows I hoped to be accepted into and paintings I was proud of for the jury submissions, I painted like crazy for six weeks. I created eight large paintings, the biggest I had ever done. I picked three or four paintings I would use for my entries and hoped for the best. With every entry, I anxiously awaited the answer, hoping for an “invited” response.
I applied to 18 shows and was accepted into 12 of them. I was thrilled when the answer was “invited” and despondent when I was “not invited.” After much introspection and talking myself off the ledge more times than I care to admit, I was proud of my accomplishment. I made it, I thought to myself, not knowing that the most challenging part was still ahead of me.
And the question of whether my art was “good” seemed to have been answered. I thought it was reasonable to assume my art had some merit. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be accepted. It’s a logical assumption, right?
Well, yes, but there’s a catch, and it’s a big one. Being accepted into a show is no guarantee you will sell art at said show. I had naively assumed that it would. And that brings up a whole other set of anxieties, questions, and frustrations, which I will cover after my hopefully enlightening list of what I learned by doing 11 shows in 4 months.
Here we go.
Although art shows can be called festivals, fairs, or shows, their name does not really tell you what type of art you find in the show. Fine art fairs or shows can, and usually do, include crafts, which some artists feel attracts buyers not interested in fine, higher-priced art. I didn’t know about the “fine art vs. craft” consideration until I arrived at my first show, where I was next to a booth selling small resin pieces of popular characters for $20 each. My lowest priced painting was $500.
If your art is larger or higher priced, as mine is, shows geared more toward fine art will give you a better chance for sales than those geared toward crafts. To add even more confusion to the matter, there is a difference between craft and fine craft. I don’t pretend to know the exact difference, but I believe it hinges on the quality of craftsmanship and the price point.
Here’s what I observed:
I’ve seen fine artists sell large and higher-priced pieces at every show I participated in. I’ve also talked to many artists who did not sell much at all.
I don’t think the presence of fine crafts at a show hurts fine art sales. It may, but I don’t have any solid data to base that on. I do think people who go to art shows expect to find varying price points for both crafts and fine arts. The question really is: Do people who buy higher-priced fine art attend shows that also have crafts? I think they do, but they are in the minority at every show—just my opinion. But, even if there are “collectors” in every art show crowd, the type of art you create makes a huge difference, and I will get to that later.
How a show runs its load in and load out can make or break a show for you. Luckily, I had a reasonably positive experience at every show, but I saw other artists who did not. Typically, you get to park relatively close to your booth, so hauling in is not an issue. But, sometimes you don’t, and you will need dollies and the like to transfer your equipment and art from your vehicle to your booth site.
Typically, for a two-day weekend show, you will set up on Friday, and for a three-day weekend show, you will either set up the evening before or very early on the first day of the show. No matter when you set up, you MUST have a plan, or things will go awry quickly.
And, don’t forget about the weather! We set up and broke down in the rain, dark, wind, and oppressive heat. There was no “wainting it out,” so we had to deal with the weather, like it or not.
Full booth setup in the driveway
If you crave consistency and have an aversion to “pivoting on a dime,” you may not like showing your art. If you are agile, can make decisions quickly in a crisis, and have at least one other person helping with setup and tear-down, you will most likely find the shows agreeable. I saw many artists do shows alone, but they had helpers for setup and tear down.
The shows themselves, once set up and ready, are more about endurance than anything. If you can sit under a tent while enduring whatever weather Mother Nature throws your way and still keep your bubbly, salesy composure, you will love the show experience. I took it as a challenge and survived to write about it.
It will be hot and probably humid. Or, it could be cold and windy, or hot and windy, or rainy, or rainy and windy. If you do enough shows, you will encounter it all. I shivered at some shows and sweated my ass off at others. A few shows were windy, which is the worst of all the weather elements. Our booth survived torrential downpours with heavy wind, and we learned quickly how to waterproof the booth when a quick rainstorm flew in during the middle of the day.
The weather is the most crucial element you will encounter during a show. It can be something you don’t notice or something that will cause your show to be a dud or, even worse, a complete disaster. I cannot stress enough how important it is to keep an eye on the weather and to have supplies and a plan for when the weather goes south.
Not only are you sitting inside (or outside) for 8-10 hours per day, but you are also putting a large piece of your soul on display, both of which can turn a positive attitude into a negative one in a short time. Despite all this, you have to maintain a positive attitude. Well, at least when there are people in your booth. Feel free to express your frustrations behind the booth, but while inside the booth, you must be happy, welcoming, and, well, fairly chipper at all times. Potential collectors want to get to know you and your art, and they do love to chat, which was an aspect of the show season I very much loved.
I experienced artists with great attitudes and those without them. We are all different and can only be who we are, but if you are making the choice to look at the positive or negative side of the situation, choosing the positive is typically the better choice.
The first day of every show is always the best. You go into it with much hope and feel excited to see what the day will bring your way. If you did not have a good day one, then it will be on day two that you may have to convince yourself to have a better attitude. Remember, you never know when a collector will step into your booth and buy one of your pieces. Every person in your booth could be a buyer, and it is that hope that will keep you going.
Art shows can test your resolve and try to squash your positive attitude. Art shows can also motivate you, give you confidence, and enrich your art practice. Be prepared for all possible situations and outcomes. In the end, you will be a better person and a better artist.
Well, this is probably what you’re most interested in hearing about, and I completely understand that. “Will I sell art?” or “How much art will I sell?” were my second two biggest concerns when I started doing shows. Now, the topic of selling at art shows is the thing I understand the least about shows. Since I don’t have a clear-cut rule of thumb or set of guidelines for successful show selling, I will share my experience with you.
I said earlier that I thought getting into the show was the most challenging part, but after doing eleven shows, I now know that to be untrue. Well, yes, some of the “big” shows are hard to get into, but even when you get into those, that is still not the most difficult part.
My main reason for doing art shows was to establish whether my art was good, viable, and sellable. Because I went into the first show (and all shows after) without a ton of condience in my art, I was terrified that people would look at my art and tell me it sucked. I was hopeful, though, because that is who I am, and I forged ahead. I told myself I could handle any comment or outcome.
My first show, the three-day Kensington Art Fair, was busy. The crowd was good on day one, and many people stopped in my booth. To my surprise and delight, I heard many wonderful, positive comments about my art. Days two and three brought the same results. I sold a few prints and a pack of notecards, but no originals.
Each day of the show, I moved my desk and print bin around to see if one position was better than another and would result in more people actually walking into my booth. I had no solid data after the show was over, though.
The next weekend, I did the Palmer Park Art Fair, and I had high hopes going in. Again, two days of glorious comments about my art, not only from those walking the show but other artists as well.
I sold nothing, not even a print. I also moved my desk and print box around for this show, to no avail.
The next show, Flint Art Fair, had a similar result, but I did sell a few more prints than usual.
My next show was across the state in Muskegon at the Lakeshore Art Festival. Again, I had high hopes as they had a fine arts only section.
Again, there were fantastic comments and conversations, but no originals were sold, and only a few prints were sold. At this show, I brought smaller pieces, changed up the booth a bit, and moved around some pieces, but nothing made a difference in sales.
Then came Art in the Park in Plymouth—a three-day show with oppressive heat and humidity. There was a huge crowd for all three days, and I sold my first original. Granted, it was an old one that I significantly reduced, but I sold it. I was also approached by a gallery coordinator about an Exhibition she suggested I enter. (I did and was accepted!).
The Orchard Lake Fine Arts Show yielded more of the same: great comments, conversations, and few print sales. Of course, no original sales either.
The Belle Isle Art Fair was even more oppressively hot and humid than Plymouth. There was an okay crowd but no original sales. Of course, there were tons of wonderful comments and conversations. Oh, and I sold a few prints.
Milford Memories, a three-day show, was the second time I sold an original. It was a small one, but I was happy nonetheless. I sold some prints, a few books, notecards, and journals. And yet again, there were so many wonderful comments about my art.
Hazel Park was a small, fun show, but I sold hardly anything. And yes, you guessed it, tons of great comments and conversations.
My final Michigan show was Funky Ferndale. I was very hopeful about this show, and it did not disappoint. I sold three originals and some prints, notecards, books, and journals—more great comments and conversations.
My last show was St. James Court in Louisville, Kentucky. I was so excited for the show, and after my previous show experiences, I did not care what happened. I just wanted to finish what I started and end the show season.
This was my favorite show for many reasons, and I sold three originals, prints, notecards, journals, and books. This was my best show, dollar-wise.
After eleven shows, I made back only 13% of my investment. I am not saying this is typical at all, as I do not know other artists’ numbers. The investment included a panel system, point of sale material, prints, notecards, journals, and books, show application fees, show booth fees, and travel expenses. I was not counting the hours spent creating the art or the hours spent setting up, being at the show, and breaking down as part of my investment. I can say that the number is staggering, about 400 hours.
No, I did not sell the amount of originals I had hoped to sell. Yes, because of this, I was distraught for most of the show season thinking my art sucked. I kept hearing from other artists that I just needed to “find my people,” and then I would start selling more. I must say, there is great truth in that statement. I like to say that my people live under rocks, under rocks, and don’t come out too often, and that is probably true, but maybe not the rock part. They are out there, and it is my job to find them. Are they are every show I did, no. Were they are some of the shows, yes. My last two shows gave me hope that they actually do exist.
So, getting accepted into an art show, although a huge achievement, is no guarantee you will sell art at the show, and that’s okay. Your first year or two of art shows will be your learning curve and your “finding my people” curve.
For some artists, their art resonates with a larger swath of people, and they sell well. My art does not, and I have learned to accept this. I do have a choice, though. I could change my art to be more of what more significant numbers of people are looking for, or I can keep doing what I am doing and work harder to find my people. I love my style and my art, and I choose the latter.
In the category of 2D art, in my experience, there was less abstract art at the shows than representational art. I will not say that abstract art does not sell as well as representational art because I don’t have any numbers to back that up. I do think more buyers are looking for representational art than abstract art.
In every show, I talked with artists who sold well, not so well, and not at all. To me, it appears to be a bit of a crap shoot and that is understandable. Until you know who your people are, you cannot tailor your shows to one that attracts that audience. And, targeted audience attraction is not necessarily the responsibility of the show promoter. They need to bring the people, and for nearly every show I was in, they did just that. They did not bring “my people,” but they did bring other artists’ people.
Doing eleven shows in four months while working 50-60 hours in my book design business nearly broke me emotionally and physically. But it was so worth it! I learned much about myself and my art and met many amazing people. I am grateful for the opportunity and the experience.
Will I do shows again? Yes, but not in 2025. I needed a break, and I wanted to focus on my book design business, so I chose to sit out the 2025 season. Well, now, I may do one or two shows later in the fall. 🙂
When I decide to do more shows, I will most likely not do them in Michigan. I don’t feel my people are plentiful enough at shows here, and I will need to look elsewhere. I believe I have a bit of a snapshot of who my people are, and I can thank the show season for that. Urban, educated, open-minded, and a bit off-center. Those are my peopl,e and I believe I will find them in larger urban areas such as Chicago, Philadelphia, Washington D.C, and maybe even Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and Indianapolis.
I am finishing this blog six months after my last show and the last time I painted. I feel like I have recovered from the 2024 show season, and I am ready to create more art, write more stories, and start looking for more of my people.
If you have any questions I have not answered in this blog, please contact me in the comments or via the contact form on my website. I would love to hear from you!
Victoria
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