I graduated from college about a year ago, and have been pursuing art passionately and persistently ever since. My work is well received, and I’ve participated in shows, but I’m used to being generally unnoticed. When it dawned on me that ardor does not equal opportunity, I came to another blindingly obvious realization—I know virtually nothing about building a career as an artist past this point. How do all of these young, contemporary artists that I admire get to where they are now? My whole life is art. I’ve never had more faith in anything, and can’t see myself doing anything else. My point is that I am unacceptably clueless about how to reach an audience in a way that I would like to. I’m aware that being an artist isn’t a walk in the park, but right now I’m stuck in a rut. What do I need to do to keep moving forward? I don’t want to lose my spark because I’m in the dark.

Rezi van Lankveld. Agua, 2013; oil on canvas, 55 x 48 cm.

I wish I could give you a fun and non-cynical pep talk along the lines of: Just work hard and the magic will happen!, but you’ve already figured out that you can work your fingers to bloody nubs and still no one at Art Basel will know your name. Your question, though, is a good one. It’s the fundamental—perhaps axiological—query of the emerging artist living in the shadow of late-market capitalism: “I am passionate about art; how do I garner acclaim and money for my work?” And you’ll find any number of peppy answers if you poke around in art-career books, but my advice is that you keep these two things as far from each other as you can, because—and this is the really important part—you can only really control one of them.

The point I’d like to make about control is central to your concern about how young contemporary artists got where they are now. These days, most young hotshots attended highfalutin MFA programs in New York or Los Angeles, where their work was seen by high-level gallerists and/or curators, some of whom were paid to take a look. Most of these artists had early market successes that were driven by a dealer who was willing to speculate on the value of their work. Many artists have been plucked from the deep, dark well of obscurity by a high-powered curator who put their work into a high-profile show at a major institution. When you weigh it in the balance, it turns out that these artists did not have much control over their careers beyond getting into top-notch schools and thereby having access to VIPs—someone else with money, influence, and power made it happen. I’m not trying to cast doubt on these artists’ relative talent or make pessimistic comparisons to the likelihood of you reaching your own goals, but it’s crucial that you understand that a rapid ascent to the dizzy heights of Artforum Mountain is not in the power of the artist alone.

That said, it is absolutely possible to meet people who believe in your work and who will help you move your career forward. You can start by building yourself a website with crisp, professional images that convey exactly what your work is, with accompanying texts that briefly explain what and how and why you do what you do. You can invite curators and gallerists and writers to your studio to chat about the work. You can submit images to online and print publications that showcase the work of emerging artists. Those art-career books will tell you in great detail how you can do all this. You can also look at some previous Help Desk columns here and here.

Rezi van Lankveld. Wajang, 2013; oil on canvas, 55 x 48 cm.

But the spark I’m worried about is not the one that lives in public. Not to be too negative, but what happens if you suffer a year, or a decade, or a lifetime of having your work ignored by the art establishment? How will you maintain the flame of your faith in art? It’s essential that you put fortifications and safeguards into your practice so that navigating the vagaries of this shitty market-driven system doesn’t pulverize your psyche to a sour pulp. The most important thing you can do is to make loads of art friends—the real ones, not the competitive bullies—because it’s crucial to surround yourself with people who understand the process of being an artist and who will both hold your hand through bad times and celebrate with you in good ones.

You are right to point out that being an artist isn’t a walk in the park (unless that park is dark and cold, uphill both ways, with sinister whispers coming from behind the bushes), yet I hope you will find ways to sustain your passion. In the lowest of times, make sure to go see great art in person frequently, because it will fill you with wonder and remind you of why you became an artist in the first place. Looking at art and talking with your friends will also motivate you to keep working in the studio, which is indispensable for your mental health. You’re young, so your watchwords should be experiment and expand—tattoo these terms on your wrists if you must, but make sure to make this your mantra every time you set out to work. Above all, try to remember that building a career as an artist is not the same as being an artist, and you can “move forward” in more ways than are recognized by the current gallery/biennial/museum system. Keep the faith, and good luck!

I graduated from college about a year ago, and have been pursuing art passionately and persistently ever since. My work is well received, and I’ve participated in shows, but I’m used to being generally unnoticed. When it dawned on me that ardor does not equal opportunity, I came to another blindingly obvious realization—I know virtually nothing about building a career as an artist past this point. How do all of these young, contemporary artists that I admire get to where they are now? My whole life is art. I’ve never had more faith in anything, and can’t see myself doing anything else. My point is that I am unacceptably clueless about how to reach an audience in a way that I would like to. I’m aware that being an artist isn’t a walk in the park, but right now I’m stuck in a rut. What do I need to do to keep moving forward? I don’t want to lose my spark because I’m in the dark.

I wish I could give you a fun and non-cynical pep talk along the lines of: Just work hard and the magic will happen!, but you’ve already figured out that you can work your fingers to bloody nubs and still no one at Art Basel will know your name. Your question, though, is a good one. It’s the fundamental—perhaps axiological—query of the emerging artist living in the shadow of late-market capitalism: “I am passionate about art; how do I garner acclaim and money for my work?” And you’ll find any number of peppy answers if you poke around in art-career books, but my advice is that you keep these two things as far from each other as you can, because—and this is the really important part—you can only really control one of them.

Rezi van Lankveld. Agua, 2013; oil on canvas, 55 x 48 cm.

The point I’d like to make about control is central to your concern about how young contemporary artists got where they are now. These days, most young hotshots attended highfalutin MFA programs in New York or Los Angeles, where their work was seen by high-level gallerists and/or curators, some of whom were paid to take a look. Most of these artists had early market successes that were driven by a dealer who was willing to speculate on the value of their work. Many artists have been plucked from the deep, dark well of obscurity by a high-powered curator who put their work into a high-profile show at a major institution. When you weigh it in the balance, it turns out that these artists did not have much control over their careers beyond getting into top-notch schools and thereby having access to VIPs—someone else with money, influence, and power made it happen. I’m not trying to cast doubt on these artists’ relative talent or make pessimistic comparisons to the likelihood of you reaching your own goals, but it’s crucial that you understand that a rapid ascent to the dizzy heights of Artforum Mountain is not in the power of the artist alone.

That said, it is absolutely possible to meet people who believe in your work and who will help you move your career forward. You can start by building yourself a website with crisp, professional images that convey exactly what your work is, with accompanying texts that briefly explain what and how and why you do what you do. You can invite curators and gallerists and writers to your studio to chat about the work. You can submit images to online and print publications that showcase the work of emerging artists. Those art-career books will tell you in great detail how you can do all this. You can also look at some previous Help Desk columns here and here.

Rezi van Lankveld. Wajang, 2013; oil on canvas, 55 x 48 cm.

But the spark I’m worried about is not the one that lives in public. Not to be too negative, but what happens if you suffer a year, or a decade, or a lifetime of having your work ignored by the art establishment? How will you maintain the flame of your faith in art? It’s essential that you put fortifications and safeguards into your practice so that navigating the vagaries of this shitty market-driven system doesn’t pulverize your psyche to a sour pulp. The most important thing you can do is to make loads of art friends—the real ones, not the competitive bullies—because it’s crucial to surround yourself with people who understand the process of being an artist and who will both hold your hand through bad times and celebrate with you in good ones.

You are right to point out that being an artist isn’t a walk in the park (unless that park is dark and cold, uphill both ways, with sinister whispers coming from behind the bushes), yet I hope you will find ways to sustain your passion. In the lowest of times, make sure to go see great art in person frequently, because it will fill you with wonder and remind you of why you became an artist in the first place. Looking at art and talking with your friends will also motivate you to keep working in the studio, which is indispensable for your mental health. You’re young, so your watchwords should be experiment and expand—tattoo these terms on your wrists if you must, but make sure to make this your mantra every time you set out to work. Above all, try to remember that building a career as an artist is not the same as being an artist, and you can “move forward” in more ways than are recognized by the current gallery/biennial/museum system. Keep the faith, and good luck!

I have been out of graduate school for 3 years now and working as an independent artist.  I have a consistent studio practice and upcoming exhibitions at non-profit, artist run spaces but have never had any luck with commercial gallery spaces.  I am at the point in my practice now where I feel ready to seek commercial gallery representation but have no idea where/how to even begin the process.  The people that I know who are represented by galleries seem to have it just “happen” to them.  What are some things that I could do to get the ball rolling? I know that it is usually not a good idea to just send in a work sample and CV cold.  Any tips/suggestions would be great.

First of all, congratulations on maintaining a rigorous practice after grad school. There are many people who leave with an MFA and, for a variety of reasons, are not able to continue making art; so in spite of your current concerns, I hope that you look back on what you’ve accomplished so far and feel proud.

I also want to say that finding gallery representation rarely just “happens,” despite the many artists who like to make it seem as though everything just falls in their laps (implying, of course, that they are so talented that the world just comes running). This kind of social game might be fun at parties, but it seldom happens in reality. Finding representation—especially the right representation, not just any old gallery—takes research, commitment, and often some good connections; and this is all in addition to slogging away in the studio.

What you need to begin are a couple of great resources that will lay out the task in front of you. Start by reading Edward Winkleman’s advice for artists here. He lists five items that should be on the checklist of anyone seeking representation, which I will paraphrase: “1. Do some honest and serious thinking about where your artwork belongs in the art market; 2. Do some serious research to find the program that best fits your artwork within that market; 3. Don’t make mistakes that will discourage you; 4. Work toward a short list. And be very honest with yourself; 5. Once you have an ‘in,’ so to speak, then let the gallery know you’re interested in having them consider your work.”

That’s the short version, but take the time to go read the whole thing right now. I’ll wait.

Deb Sokolow, Untitled, 2009. Acrylic and graphite on paper, 8 x 10 inches

Okay, now that you’re back with a more complete idea of the research project that you’re undertaking, you should consider buying a copy of Art/Work, a book I will probably keep recommending until I die. Not only is it an excellent primer for all kinds of professional activities (galleries, contracts, consignment, etc.), it also has helpful quotes from gallerists and dealers that help you understand things from their perspective. It’s not expensive and it really is a wonderful resource, so please obtain a copy and keep it on hand as you start to negotiate this path.

It’s important to remember that this undertaking is not just a matter of doing your homework and sending images. I asked Alexis Mackenzie, the assistant director at Mark Wolfe Contemporary Art, for some insight. Here’s what she said: “Getting started in the commercial gallery world is best facilitated by engagement with the arts community; participating in public events, residencies, group shows, etc. and building relationships with other artists is one of the better ways to get your work seen while making connections to other curators and gallerists. The upcoming exhibitions at non-profit, artist-run spaces are the perfect starting point for this. Even something as simple as having a basic website where people can see examples of your work, your CV, an artist statement, and contact information is very useful.”

Deb Sokolow, Untitled, 2009. Acrylic, tape, and graphite on paper, 10 1⁄4 x 8 1⁄2 inches

She continued with some advice that reiterates Mr. Winkleman’s wise counsel: “Outside of building connections within the arts community around you, I think one of the most important things to consider when it comes to approaching (or being approached by) any gallery is to look at their program and see if your work is a good fit. If your work is not in line with their program then it wouldn’t make sense for either of you to work together, as it would most likely not register with their audience, and they might not have collectors for you. Artists shouldn’t show at a gallery just for the sake of being exhibited; consider the fact that they will be representing you and your work, and should be able to speak for it with understanding and appreciation, and within the context of their program. This means that a gallery is most likely not going to be interested in work that this doesn’t apply to, even if the work is good.”

Additional resources for finding the right fit might be some of the curators (independent or institutional) in your region. They are likely to have a bit of insider knowledge regarding the programs of local commercial galleries, so invite a few for studio visits and ask if/where they see your work fitting into the local scene. They might have several suggestions for you, and if they like the work—a best-case scenario—they also might be willing to make an introduction. If you pursue this course of action, be diplomatic and don’t put pressure on anyone to make it happen for you. Recommending an emerging artist to a specific gallery is an act of generosity and best initiated by the curator. In other words, approach these meetings with enthusiasm and curiosity but don’t be a pest.

Also, don’t be crushed if the commercial gallery thing doesn’t work out as quickly as you were hoping it would. Ms. Mackenzie has a final suggestion for you to keep in mind as you build your career: “There are other paths besides exhibiting commercially; try looking into grants, public art, non-profits, etc. if a commercial path does not seem to be opening up at this point in time. And personally, I think the work itself should always come first. Make strong work that you believe in, and the rest should follow.”

Good luck!