When I talk to non-artists about making art, I am reminded again how strange and full of idiosyncrasies our line of work can appear to everyone else, as artists and creative people. For instance, I recently spent some time with a few people in the “regular world”—who have bought and own art—discussing how different artists go about pricing their work.
Pricing is an interesting part of the art world equation. It's where the rubber meets the road because it's how an artist can get a clearer picture of how (or whether) they're going to be able to sustain their practice. What came out of my conversation was a set of expectations that artists have always been reluctant to acknowledge, let alone admit: that their work is a product, and to some degree subject to the basic laws of economics. What the non-artist community find hard to reconcile sometimes is the other, more “black magic” factors that come into play when pricing art, from who the artist is, whether they're alive, or who is selling the work. That last factor—who is selling it—is not a trivial thing, and it governs a significant portion of the sale.
There are other things too that have come up in more recent years. The conversation was an eye-opener for me in particular because of how much the art world has been affected by social media and the new circumstances that anyone selling art would have to contend with, whether they represent "blue chip" artists or themselves.
Anyway, I learned a lot about how other artists are structuring their careers with these new developments, and picked up a few things I should be doing better as an artist.
This week's piece focuses on building what I call a lifestyle. I do define the term differently than people would in marketing and commercial circles. It was an enjoyable piece to write because as will be pretty evident, it reminded me of how much I don't like dating.
I hope you can dig the writing, and that your week is spent taking in some sunshine while you can.
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