I’m an artist in [redacted city] and I just got a solo show at a little gallery. I have no idea how to promote it. I didn’t go to art school and I’m sort of feral, as in I don’t have a huge group of people to invite. I’m lost on how to market the show. I’ve made a list of some galleries and thought I would send them invitations, but where do I start?

Andy Warhol. People on the Street, ca. 1980. Gift of the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. RISD Museum, Providence, RI.

Congratulations! Marketing a show isn’t hard—it’s all about being organized and targeting the right people—and I’m happy to help. The first thing you need to do is read my 2013 column on writing a basic press release (and pay attention to the initial comment below the article, because it adds a good point that I forgot to mention). Once you’re done reading, draft your press release, have a few people give you some feedback, and revise accordingly.

Once the press release is done, you’ll need one to three images of the work that will be in the exhibition. The artwork should be well lit, in focus, and photographed against a white background. There shouldn’t be anything else in the frame; if you’re unfamiliar with the basics of documenting artwork, this four-minute video will be very helpful.

Now figure out to whom you will send the release and images. Your idea of making a list of galleries is perfect—and before you hit “send,” I want you to take a long, hard look at that list. Blasting a lot of strangers has rarely worked to anyone’s advantage, so ask yourself: Do these galleries exhibit work like yours? Are they likely to be interested? If yes, you’re cleared for takeoff. If no, take them off the list. And if you still honestly feel there’s some compelling reason to contact them, make sure you’re sending the email with a personal note above the text of the press release: “I know you only represent artists from China, but I love your gallery and have been inspired by the work I’ve seen there over the last three years. I would be honored if you came to see my show.” (And since emailing galleries is a little like sending an application, read these tips on thinking strategically.)

Before you brush off your hands and call the day done, take some time to think outside the white cube, because there are plenty of arts patrons beyond the gallery circuit. Make another list, one that includes the subject(s) of your work, its material components, and any other relevant information, and then google-brainstorm an inventory of organizations whose interests overlap with some of the elements of your work. For example, if you paint images of trains, you might invite the railway history museum, the nonprofit that advocates for streetcar service, and the members of the local model train society. If you make collages that reimagine the built environment, send a copy of your press release to the local chapter of the American Institute of Architects. Even the most cursory Google search will be a great help here, and you might find all sorts of institutions that will be interested in taking a look at your show. Go ahead and email the press release to a national organization if you can’t find your community’s chapter—they may be able to help you get the word out.

You don’t need an art-school degree to effectively promote your work. What you need is a willingness to spend hours in front of the computer doing research, a dash of creativity, and a few pals to help you edit your press release. Good luck!

Help Desk is where I answer your queries about making, exhibiting, finding, marketing, buying, selling–or any other activity related to contemporary art. Submit your questions anonymously here.

I’m an artist in [redacted city] and I just got a solo show at a little gallery. I have no idea how to promote it. I didn’t go to art school and I’m sort of feral, as in I don’t have a huge group of people to invite. I’m lost on how to market the show. I’ve made a list of some galleries and thought I would send them invitations, but where do I start?

Andy Warhol. People on the Street, ca. 1980. Gift of the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. RISD Museum, Providence, RI.

Congratulations! Marketing a show isn’t hard—it’s all about being organized and targeting the right people—and I’m happy to help. The first thing you need to do is read my 2013 column on writing a basic press release (and pay attention to the initial comment below the article, because it adds a good point that I forgot to mention). Once you’re done reading, draft your press release, have a few people give you some feedback, and revise accordingly.

Once the press release is done, you’ll need one to three images of the work that will be in the exhibition. The artwork should be well lit, in focus, and photographed against a white background. There shouldn’t be anything else in the frame; if you’re unfamiliar with the basics of documenting artwork, this four-minute video will be very helpful.

Now figure out to whom you will send the release and images. Your idea of making a list of galleries is perfect—and before you hit “send,” I want you to take a long, hard look at that list. Blasting a lot of strangers has rarely worked to anyone’s advantage, so ask yourself: Do these galleries exhibit work like yours? Are they likely to be interested? If yes, you’re cleared for takeoff. If no, take them off the list. And if you honestly feel there’s a compelling reason to contact them, make sure you’re sending the email with a personal note above the text of the press release: “I know you only represent artists from China, but I love your gallery and have been inspired by the work I’ve seen there over the last three years. I would be honored if you came to see my show.” (And since emailing galleries is a little like sending an application, read these tips on thinking strategically.)

Before you brush off your hands and call the day done, take some time to think outside the white cube, because there are plenty of arts patrons beyond the gallery circuit. Make another list, one that includes the subject(s) of your work, its material components, and any other relevant information, and then brainstorm a new list of organizations whose interests overlap with some of the elements of your work. For example, if you paint images of trains, you might invite the railway history museum, the nonprofit that advocates for streetcar service, and the members of the local model train society. If you make collages that reimagine the built environment, send a copy of your press release to the local chapter of the American Institute of Architects. Even the most cursory Google search will be a great help here, and you might find all sorts of institutions that will be interested in taking a look at your show. Go ahead and email the press release to a national organization if you can’t find your community’s chapter—they may be able to help you get the word out.

You don’t need an art-school degree to effectively promote your work. What you need is a willingness to spend hours in front of the computer doing research, a dash of creativity, and a few pals to help you edit your press release. Good luck!

This week’s column features the smart, funny work of artist Justin Kemp (in particular, I love his adding to the internet project, which was too big to be included here). I found his work on the Rhizome ArtBase,”an online home for works that employ materials such as software, code, websites, moving images, games and browsers towards aesthetic and critical ends.” Check it out!

I have never approached a gallery or reached out to the art world beyond maintaining a basic website because I haven’t had a body of work I felt the least bit thrilled with–until now. Meanwhile, my best friend–a successful radio morning-show guy–spent the wee hours of his recent 40th birthday accusing me of being an ivory-tower artist and insisting that I was insane not to be promoting myself on Facebook and other social media. Any defense I could mount sounded elitist and snobby despite my best intentions. It’s been a few days and I’m still having a hard time articulating my reservations. On the one hand, of course I want vast numbers of people to see my work for its own sake and make of it what they will. On the other hand, I am repulsed by the idea of jumping into the public pool just because all the other lemmings did, naively unconcerned with the ramifications of having their lives irreversibly put on public display, just to play trite ego-games in an environment controlled by big business, monitored by government, and all of it propped up by nuclear-energy-guzzling machines made in places with questionable labor and environmental practices, whence they ultimately return on toxic waste barges.

Leaving my paranoia aside, I also feel that an artist today would do well to cultivate a little mystique. Despite my friend’s imploring to the contrary, I feel that yes, I will indeed be somehow rewarded someday for not succumbing to social media, because I feel that a gallerist wants to be the discoverer of the artist as a diamond in the rough, and how can you “discover” someone who already has 3,000 “likes” or “friends?” Am I an e-prude?

Golly. I can’t tell if you’ve come to the absolute right place or the wrongest of wrong places for an answer. Like you, I’ve eschewed most forms of social networking, and while I’m maybe not quite as paranoid (at least on the good days), I do share some of your concerns about privacy and what you winningly call “ego games.” So my answer might be a little bit preaching-to-the-choir, but I’ll do my best to help you puzzle through your current situation.

Justin Kemp, proclaiming my love at a scenic overlook on top of a mountain, 2010. Tree carving; video on website 1’30”

First, let’s deal with practical matters. If you really want to attempt a defense that doesn’t sound elitist, you could cite the studies on Facebook and anxiety and what it does to your self-esteem. Or you could try a more pragmatic tack by talking about how fast technology turns over (remember MySpace and Friendster?), something that the techno-pundits are already discussing. You could mention that Facebook’s IPO was miserable compared to financial projections, the site is losing users, and co-founder Dustin Moskovitz and board member Peter Thiel are dumping millions of shares of stock from their portfolios—not a good sign. And in case you thought FB was the only villain, Twitter is now going to be spamming everyone’s feed with “promoted tweets” based on their interests. Because nothing in this world is truly free, all social media moves in the direction of targeted advertising, which they accomplish by tracking your data.

But really what you need to do, instead of mounting an airtight defense, is to stop comparing yourself to your friend—and stop letting him compare his situation to yours, because they’re completely different. He has a vested interest in being a part of social media: as a radio-show host, he’s a public figure with a specific message. Radio stations are supported by advertising, which the radio station sells to businesses by telling them how many people will hear their ads. They can increase that number of listeners, and then sell ads for more money, by using social media to market the show. By tweeting his political views or NOM NOM sushi lunch, your friend could be ultimately ensuring that he has a job next month. (Just as I’m sure that my editors are reading this right now and thinking, Yes, darling, get a damned Twitter account already and help us sell some advertising so we can keep on cutting checks for this column. But I digress.)

Justin Kemp, surfing with the sand between my toes (after brian wilson), 2010. Sandbox, Mac Pro, desk and chair in living room

Of course, you are an e-prude, at least by today’s standards. If that makes you feel insufferably bad, you’re either going to have to give it up and get publicly naked on the internet or else cultivate a sense of pride and learn to wear your smug, elitist, aloof moral superiority (because that’s certainly what you’ll be accused of) as a badge of honor. If you opt for the latter, recognize now that you may never get to have a normal conversation about the Internet again. No matter how neutrally you frame it, some people will look upon your lack of social media presence as a negative assessment of their own habits and get defensive and preachy. I spent ten years without a television, and learning that fact never stopped anyone from first heartily vowing that they never really watched TV either, and then following that up by recounting the plot of some idiotic sitcom that they were convinced I would just adore. I expect it’ll be the same with social media—your obvious expression of disinterest won’t make the proselytizers go away, so if you hold your ground just resign yourself to having that chat. But you’re a creative person, right? So surely you can figure out a creative way to get people looking at your work without compromising what you believe in.

I don’t know about this mystique thing, though, or the idea of being “rewarded” for shunning social media (the reward you get from not being on Twitter is that you don’t have to receive 140-character messages about anyone’s baby or puppy or gourmet sandwich—isn’t that enough?). While I’ve never run a gallery myself, it seems to me that gallerists prefer artists who can make good work, work that they can sell, in enough quantity to keep everyone happy. It’s my impression that they could care less if you have 3,000 “friends” or not, as long as they can do their job and pay the gallery’s rent. I am sure, however, that waiting at the soda fountain to get discovered like Lana Turner is not going to do the trick; but that doesn’t mean you need to jump into a pool that you find so completely offensive. I highly recommend that you spend a day or two at your local library reading art-career books like Art/Work, Taking the Leap, and others. These books will give you some alternate ideas on how to reach out and cultivate connections in the art community.

Justin Kemp, Status Updates, 2011. 26 short performances with Nick DeMarco at Vogt Gallery

I dig that social media isn’t your scene, and I’m glad that you both know yourself and stick to your principles, but the last bit of advice I want to dole out this week is that you can always change your mind. If you think of a brilliant way to use social media as part of, or in support of, your practice then by all means dive in. And maybe the next iteration of social networking will somehow be ecologically conscious and privacy-friendly, so never say never. Artists, even stubborn ones like you and me, should be open to the possibilities. Take this great new work of yours that you’re thrilled about and get it in front of people in a way that doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth. Perhaps someday social media will catch up to you, instead of the other way around.

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The irony in all of this is that DailyServing’s current platform only accepts comments from Facebook, which of course I won’t receive. If you have a comment that you’d like me to read or a burning question you need me to answer, you can send it the new old-fashioned way: helpdesk@dailyserving.com

Your counselor, hard at work.

I’ve noticed a trend of not putting any information about the artist, including labels, on the wall. I get that the idea is to make the viewer just look at the artwork. However, I find it rather alienating, as often, particularly in contemporary art galleries, it is hard to be engaged without some kind of information about the work or the artist’s motive. I suppose that the idea is to get the information from the gallery worker, but I have found them to be unavailable, either on the phone or engaged with another customer. Do you think it is a mistake to do this or is there a higher purpose of which I am not aware? 

Standing before an unfamiliar thing set atop a plinth and with no cues on how to proceed can be unnerving. You might feel overwhelmed by questions: What is it? Who made it? When? And why does the artist want to show this to me?

The way out of this terrifying situation is to approach the desk and pick up one of those nice information sheets in the stack right next to the guest book, near the vase of wilting flowers. If there isn’t one, ask for it. If the gallerist is on the phone, just look perplexedly up and down the length of the counter, then up again at the gallerist, and mouth the word “information” while air-drawing an 8.5 x 11 inch rectangle in front of your face with your index fingers. This is the international sign for I am interested in learning more about the artwork.

Check out this review of labels on Art Fag City, one of my favorite art sites.

In the past, I too have been mildly annoyed at the lack of easy-to-access wall information. Yet I must say that given the choice between remembering to grab the info sheet from the counter and having to read an exhaustive catalog of information on the wall, I’ll take the gallery’s walk-though paper any day, even when it means I have to backtrack once I’ve figured out that I don’t have what I need to get the full picture (if you’ll excuse the pun).

It is not a mistake to reserve the walls of a gallery for the artwork. Many artworks cannot easily coexist with wall tags. And there is a higher purpose: with an information sheet, you are more likely to be engaged with the work before becoming distracted by its price. Indeed, it can be very pleasant to look at artwork in the gallery setting and pretend for a moment that it exists outside of the crass vagaries of capitalism.

Photo courtesy of the artist. Surely someone somewhere has thought of this before?

Is consistency important for an artist? I am interested in all sorts of media and different styles, but when I go through my portfolio, there’s no telling that every piece I have made is done by me. Is it important to stick to a medium rather than dabble? And is it important to have a recognizable look like all of the prominent artists?

Your query has a few layers to it, and I’m going to try to tease them apart. First is the question of whether consistency or visual recognizability is important for an artist. Next is the idea of “dabbling” vs. sticking to a medium. Finally, there’s the notion that prominent artists are all working undeviatingly within a particular set of constraints.

Visual “consistency” or recognizability can be important for an art career—note the emphasis, please—but that’s a separate issue from being important to an artist. One can recognize a John Currin painting because of his repeated combination of medium, subject matter and style. The same applies equally to a Giacometti sculpture or a John Hughes film or a Louis Vuitton logo purse. One reason that this kind of consistency is popular is that it is highly marketable. The perceived value of a status object can often be correlated to the ease of the identification of its maker or origin. That’s why everyone concerned with status wants a LV handbag and a Lexus. These objects transmit their value on sight, and so does a John Currin painting.

Sigmar Polke, Kölner Bettler III, 1972. Offset lithograph, 16 7/8 x 23 3/4 inches (image: www.rfc.museum)

The second part of your question is easily answered. Dabbling is often necessary if you want to suit your medium to your subject, and every master began as an amateur. Just be sure that you’re not just tinkering with something new every other week in order to avoid the real work of digging into a technique or material. Avoid being superficial, and don’t be afraid to work (and think) all the way through what you’re doing.

Let’s tackle the last question: do all the famous artists really conform to some kind of stylistic homogeneity? Yes and no. Sigmar Polke, for example, produced paintings, photographs, and sculptures over the course of his life. Though Polke’s style is visually recognizable within bodies of work, overall he used a wide range of styles, media and techniques. The consistency in his work comes from his preoccupation with alchemy and transformation. Likewise, John Baldessari is another artist who creates an incredible amount of work, but any two of his works selected at random and placed side by side might not be easily perceived as having the same maker. However, nearly all his works have the same ironic attitude.

Sigmar Polke, Untitled, 1973. Gouache on paper, 69.5 x 99.5 cm (image: www.likeyou.com) Note that this work and the one above were made within a year of each other.

But these are examples of work by über-famous artists. Why not consider the oeuvres of somewhat lesser-known lights like Paul Chan and Michael Huey? These artists are following paths that have few obvious markers for the casual viewer, but their work is strong and intriguing. I recommend that you spend more time studying artist monographs and catalogs of retrospectives. I think you’ll find that visual uniformity is sometimes tightly controlled through medium or style, and sometimes ignored altogether.

The real question is not whether it is important to be consistent, but what kind of artist you want to be. Is your goal to be good? To be free? To be a household name? I feel that we can’t talk about consistency—visual or otherwise–without shivering under the looming shadow of capitalism and branding, nor can we really divorce it from the myth of the mad-genius artist, obsessed and compulsive, driven to repetition. Are these narratives important to you? In the end, my advice is to make what you want to make. If it’s good, and if there’s enough of it, it will be easy for dealers, critics, and your future biographers to follow the threads of your concerns throughout the work.

Your counselor, hard at work.

My question centers around income: does an artist truly need their own website to be successful? Do prospective buyers really look up your name and view your work? I’m a financially struggling student–I do not have an official website (only a facebook dedicated to art). Is this a serious drawback in the sense that others will not take me seriously as an artist even if my work is of good quality?

Worrying about being taken seriously is putting your cart before the horse, because how will these hypothetical people even find you in order to evaluate your work? I asked around about websites and this is what I heard:

One New York gallerist said, “One doesn’t NEED a website, but it helps curators and galleries find your work… I doubt that ‘buyers’ really come via the web, but I think it is advantageous so have some web presence if you want to be found.”

Likewise, the gallerist I contacted in Berlin said, “Yes of course people (collectors, curators, gallerists) are researching artists they are interested in – who doesn’t use Google? If an artist does not have a gallery representing them with a comprehensive overview of what they’ve done on their site, it’s probably good to have some information available that allows interested persons to see the work without contacting the artist directly.  I don’t know if it will make anyone successful though!  Most “buyers” are going to buy from galleries I think, and really it’s gallerists and curators who are going to reference the site, so it would be bad form to set up a website that was geared towards selling work.”

Make it easy for people to find your work. (image: affiliatemarketerscollege.com)

The most comprehensive answer came from a San Francisco gallerist (it must be that famous “California abundance” at work): “This is an interesting question. Ultimately, a website is one piece to the puzzle and the need is probably in relation to what an artist’s gallery (or galleries) is providing for them. Having one’s own website of course provides the greatest control of presentation so long as the artist is capable and willing to do the work. Most people do not realize the extent to which a website is an on-going project and an out-of-date website can easily give the impression that an artist has given up their practice. One needs to keep the images (individual works and exhibitions), biography and press updated and the photography should be as professional as possible. The design and photography on any given website has evolved so much in the past five years, and with it our sophistication as visual consumers on the web.”

“Those caveats aside, an artist’s website generally provides a much broader scope of the work than most gallery sites. In some cases, commercial sites often skew towards displaying available works over possibly better works that have sold. An artist’s website will often have their name as a domain (www.artistname.com), which is a tremendous boost in the organic search engine results. I would highly recommend this type of domain over something clever. It’s also important to remember that a website is not just used by potential buyers. Other audiences include curators, other galleries, artists, students, writers and the list goes on.”

“Contact information on a website is an issue worth discussing as well. There are generally two options for an artist who is working with galleries: list the gallery’s contact info and personal info or just the gallery’s. This again depends on the working relationship with the gallery. If there is a close, collaborative and trusting relationship, let the gallery do their job of fielding inquiries while the artist focuses on making work. If opportunities are slipping through the cracks, the artist should think about taking a more active role. Through contact information, we get to the question of sales. The occasional buyer will attempt to purchase a work directly from an artist through their website, and always at a hefty discount. It’s slippery behavior and the person who does this is probably not a collector that is going to make a long-term positive impact on an artist’s career. Sales inquiries should always be referred back to a gallery.”

“There is also the question of the artist’s blog. I have found this to be a great way for artists to share their work, while building context and community around their practice. I suspect that more and more these blogs will be used as research tools for curators and galleries, especially in compiling group shows. I suppose to sum things up, a website, if done right, can certainly only be helpful.”

This is just one of the amazing images you can find if you search Google Images for “making a website.” Oh, how I love the internet. (image: www.steps-to-make-your-own-website.com)

There you have it folks, right from the mouths of people in the know. Though they are all anonymous this week, I’d like to thank the dealers who provided clear and thoughtful guidance for this column! Please, don’t anyone whine to me about galleries taking fifty percent and blah blah blah because so far I’ve only encountered people who were not only doing their job but also willing to help me with mine.

The voices of art school stay with you after graduation. (image: artsedge.kennedy-center.org)

I have been out of grad school for about two years now. I feel like I am stuck in a post-MFA funk where I can’t return to a place of pure art making. I seem to have a mental block where I self-critique any new idea I have before I even execute it. Any thoughts on how to get out of this mode of overly critiquing every idea?

This is a problem faced, on and off, by the majority of artists I know. Even if you haven’t gone to grad school you can end up with some choice phrases of negativity rattling around in your brain, and if you have gone through the blast furnace of an MFA program it takes quite a while before the voices in your head are shushed enough for you to get back to work.

That’s not to say that all critique should be silenced. It’s good to be honest with yourself when you’re evaluating your work, but that process should happen mostly after you’re done one piece and before you begin another. If self-criticism is keeping you from moving forward with your work then you have a problem, and if it keeps you from making anything at all then you have a three-alarm fire to put out, because if you’re not making work, what’s there to evaluate? You’ve crashed before you’ve started, and that’s a waste.

Try to identify where the critique is coming from, because it has an origin somewhere. Was there a particular person in school whose criticism stung the most? Or was there someone that you were trying (and maybe failed) to impress? A snide studio mate with some unsolicited “advice” for your practice? This might be one source of emotional-intellectual discontent. Or maybe when you start to really examine what the voice is saying you’ll discover that it’s actually your uptight banker uncle, asking when you’re going to get a real job. Or maybe it’s that parsimonious version of yourself who is inevitably (even if you’re a guy) the bitchiest Mean Girl that ever walked the earth. Whatever, no matter. The point is to try to put a face on this funk. Think of every nagging, petty, ridiculous thing these people are saying: that’s stupid, I don’t get it, it’s been done before by people smarter than you, you don’t have anything to say, your ideas are so boring, you think anyone cares about that? Man, that shit is ugly. And so on. Write it down if you can.

(image: www.learntoart.com)

Now accept that these people aren’t actually in the studio. That’s you in there, saying those scary things and playing head games with yourself. By acknowledging that, you take it out of the damaging realm of assumption. It can be difficult to acknowledge all this nasty stuff, but it’s important to bring it out into the open—demons don’t like the light.

You’re creative, so if identifying the basis of this problem doesn’t solve it, try a little mental exercise every time the voices in your head start to get the better of you. Picture these people standing behind you and saying all these smarmy things. Imagine turning up a volume knob so that they are shouting at you, yelling and waving their hands to get your attention. Feel what that feels like for a moment. Does it make you sweat with fear? Do you get angry? Does your stomach knot? That’s okay. Just feel it. Now put your fingers back on the volume knob and slowly start to turn it down. Take a deep breath and keep turning, all the way down until you can barely hear them. Then turn the knob all the way down until it clicks and these people are moving their mouths but no sound is coming out. Do they look ridiculous? How does that feel?

This “place of pure art making” is inside you. It was and always will be inside you, but it was silted up by layers of criticism that you are hanging onto. It’s still there, but you’re going to have to do a bit of work to excavate it. Acknowledge the part that you are responsible for and then do a brave thing: continue to work in spite of it.