It has been almost a year since I became a paid member of a few online schemes, some very professional, some less.
My journey began with an overwhelming surge of excitement and energy. Each morning, I would wake up with a burning motivation and unwavering belief that I would soon be selling my artwork online. The vision of producing and selling two or three large and several small paintings every month was crystal clear in my mind. I was certain, without a shadow of doubt, I will succeed.
I followed the steps and methods suggested in one of the programmes for the Organic Art Sales Program and Professional Artist Association. I did it for probably 8 months with zest and enthusiasm and later with less.
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Some aspects of the online sales methods were difficult for me to accept. For instance, the idea of posting an image of my work and asking seemingly trivial questions felt disingenuous. It seemed to assume that my followers were simple, uneducated people. I found it hard to follow the script for OAS (organic art sales) 100%. I’m a bit stubborn that way.
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I wrote every morning to encourage myself to take action, posted on Facebook and Instagram, and added new friends and followers. I admit I have received positive feedback from followers.
But the only people who wanted to buy something were the same ones who tried to scam me. In the beginning, almost every day, someone would buy using Paypal, the old credit card trick – about 12 such cases. Later came the NFT’s buyers. The money they wanted to pay me for a single image made my head spin – I would be a millionaire by now.
For a year, I didn’t meet an honest, single person interested in my art—to buy it. I only sold paintings using the old, traditional methods—my old collectors, new collectors, people I met in person who had seen my art in my studio, and people who visited my exhibitions and saw my art in person.
I spent more than GBP 3,000 on the online courses. They gave me a positive start and encouraged me to believe that selling art online is possible. In retrospect, I would rather spend that money revisiting Rome and Florence—all those incredible sculptures, buildings, paintings, monuments, palazzos, and great food. It would make me happy and satisfied.
It’s not that I regret the experience, but there’s a sense of frustration that’s hard to shake. When you’ve put in your best effort and yet, nothing seems to work out, it can be quite disheartening.
Should I give up the idea of selling art online? Should I go back to exhibiting my art in galleries? Or maybe I should just paint for myself and for those sporadic sales to my dear collectors and just be happy, with no ambitions, just true to my own vocation, passion, and love—ART.
Your experience of attempting to sell your pictures sounds oh so familiarly dispiriting. You have all you need to create great art, even if your customers may or may not see that. Is not the way forward, to be independent of demand and to remain true to the creative act? Does that lack ambition, does it reduce your output? Is not the amount of work you produce your ambition ?
To confuse that with whether you gain financial success is another part of the art transaction that I have found utterly corrupt. I remember being told of Bob Geldoffs early attempts at increasing his wealth, by going to graduate university art exhibitions to have a punt on the future success of up and coming artists. Art as I understand it, is a betting game, and it favours the extrovert artist, is supported by the wealthy to consolidate their wealth and “sophistication”, and amplified by well educated art critics, that can spin a bleat into a sonnet.
Jerry, thank you for your comment. Yes, you are right. Art in the XX and XXI centuries became a betting game. Fortunately, art is my passion; it is my life. I can’t be whole without it. I don’t care so much about success—not enough, and maybe it is positive for me. I know exactly what I represent and how good I am.