How do you sell your art? You know, the blathering lunacy or angry love or thoughts without the lace? Yes, lace, tattered old lace, the handmade kind with bobbins, women became blind to the rest of the world, just to produce a petticoat. I'm talking two and three dimensions, sculpture, paintings, photographs, murals and wall hangings, not pennies per word. And for what, a bag of half-rotted potatoes, a bag of salt, a bag of bones for soup with maybe a bit of marrow?
I'll tell you how easy it is...find your own mountain and grind it down, stone by stone. People will say I'll take some grey and red, if you please. To match the decor of the master bedroom. To match the decor of their bedroom will take years off of your life, my artist friend. You think our hair turns white from natural loss of pigmentation? Give me a break, it's the worrying about things we cannot even imagine that blast us every day.
You know how much sand is in Paul Soldner's clay? One third. The recent hurricane went a little overboard on the shoreline and the New Jersey barrier island, pardon the insensitive pun, I know people died. Paul Soldner is dead and that is where I met him. People die every day. Good people. Bad people. Babies. Beloved pets. That's life.
I'll tell you some of what I know and it's not that much: Some artists measure three dimensional sculptures by the inch. You all can do the math. Height multiplied by width, then take that number and add a few zeroes to get $2,500 or $25,000. I didn't invent this; I'm just the messenger. Or you can stand on a scale holding your art and subtract your weight and use that number. Again with the zeroes and the $.
Some artists I know add up the cost of materials, add up the hours spent thinking and making, then purchase a solid gold frame, hoping to make big bucks there. Speaking of golden, I know one woman who sold what was left of her soul to create commissioned art for the corporate world. It paid the bills but she's not happy. I could tell by all of her dead house plants.
I confess to playing the part of the occasional whore, just to pay the bills when I was young and a single parent. Call me crazy, but I don't think it's your art if someone tells you what to create. I am not talking about architectural art, cathedral ceilings, or anything made by the Shakers. If I sound a little angry, I'm saving the best for last.
If you cannot walk away from your art or donate it to some charity, put the price so ridiculously high or hire an agent. They generally get 60-70 per cent. Galleries are a little kinder; their cut is 40 per cent. If you cannot part with your art or watch it break over the winter from global warming or whatever you believe causes extreme weather patterns, go digital or build a titanium pyramid in your back yard. You want a factual write-up on this?