Category: sustainable art business

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Confidence is key for women artists

Do you allow yourself to believe you’re good at what you do? If not, why not?

Campbell’s Field, by Carol L. Douglas. At the time I painted this, I thought I was a pretty poor painter. 

I rudely eavesdropped on a conversation about negotiating salary. The speaker, thirty-something, was describing input from friends and family. “Dad said, ‘ask for the highest figure in their range,’ and Steve said, ‘ask for $5000 more.’” The negotiator—a woman—asked for $1500 more. She low-balled herself. At her age, I would have done worse. I’d have meekly accepted whatever was put on the table.

The gender pay gap is more complicated than simple sexism. It starts with college graduates’ first jobs. Part of this is based on the college tracks women prefer (non-STEM) but part of it is simple confidence. The responsibility for that rests with us, as women. No manager has ever insisted that a candidate take more than what was first offered.

Bridle path, by Carol L. Douglas. Same vintage.

The confidence gap is even more of a challenge in the art world, where success is based on selling oneself. Frankly, women are lousy at it. I’ve written here, here, here, here, here, and hereabout gender disparity in the art world, and it hasn’t gotten any better. The gap between men’s and women’s pay in the arts is worse than it is in the economy as a whole. That’s a clue that the gender gap is about far more than just majoring in STEM subjects.

My daughter and her husband have turned job stereotypes on their head. She’s a computer programmer; he’s a social worker. “When she knows she’s excellent at something, she’s very confident about it,” he says. That is new. As a recent college graduate, she was unsure. She allowed herself to be hired at the bottom of the pay range. She’s wised up and is working to narrow that.

Upper and Middle Falls, Letchworth, by Carol L. Douglas.

I often tell people I only know how to do two things well, and one of them is not cooking. I can paint, and I can write and teach about painting. In those narrow tracks, I’m competent. More importantly, I know it.

But I wasn’t always that way. Paintings I did twenty years ago are no less accomplished than my paintings today (albeit in a different style). Why did I feel then that I was a poseur and today I feel capable? What has changed?

In part, I was influenced by what others said about me. There are supportive communities and others that subtly undercut our self-esteem. Think back through recent interactions with your peers. Did they encourage you to take risks, or float good ideas for improvements? Or do they subtly discourage you? If the latter, perhaps you need new friends. (Family is not so easy to change, unfortunately.)

Lower Falls, Letchworth, by Carol L. Douglas

Sometimes the person who smack-talks you is not your so-called friend, it’s you, yourself. Your inner monologue has a critical impact on your confidence. Try to listen to your own commentary and analyze it dispassionately. If you find yourself constantly running yourself down, stop and redirect those thoughts.

Start by intentionally choosing a posture of thankfulness. I know of no more powerful tool to reframe our attitudes. In giving thanks, we focus on what’s right and good, rather than on what’s broken.

Women, in particular, are trained to be modest about their achievements. But there’s a fine line between humility and self-effacing meekness. Confident people take credit for their own achievements—to themselves as well as to others. As a teacher, I’ve noticed that people who were successful and confident in their careers bring that expectation of success into painting.

If you don’t have that, don’t despair. Instead, challenge yourself in some area that’s far outside your experience. Doing something risky and difficult is a great way to start to understand your own strength. The time I’ve spent alone in the wilderness has been a powerful spur to my own self-confidence. We send boys to camp to get filthy and learn to start fires without matches; we don’t send our daughters. We should.

Women are trained to be helpers and—as I mentioned before—that can be a trap. But it’s also a strength we can build on. I have found mentoring to be a great spur to my self-confidence, if for no other reason than that the people I’ve mentored admire me.

But there’s something to be said for plain old age. I think in some ways I’ve simply outlasted my insecurities. They’re exhausting, and at this age I have better things to do with my time.

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Sustainable art

An artist, an engineer, and a paint company are working together to repair acid mine damage in southeast Ohio. 
Photo of acid mine runoff at Truetown by John Sabraw.
Environmentally-ethical choices can be very difficult for the artist. The toxicity of paint rests not in its binders, but in its pigments. Copper, cobalt, cadmium, and lead are the worst. It’s impossible to avoid them completely, but the danger isn’t really to you, it’s to the poor schmoe who has to mine or make them. Most pigments are no longer milled in the US, even when your paint is made here. It’s one of the hidden costs of globalization—we’re better at not polluting America because we just do it elsewhere.
Despite our better environmental record of late, we have some dreadful pollution pits remaining in America. Southeastern Ohio has a long history of coal mining, and it’s unfortunately still visible today, in iron-rich, contaminated runoff from abandoned mines. These coal mines contain the mineral pyrite, which reacts with water and air to form sulfuric acid and iron. This makes the water highly acidic and orange. Of course, this waste doesn’t just stay in downstream creeks and rivers, smothering plant life and animals. It contaminates drinking water as well.
Iron hydroxide precipitate in a Missouri stream receiving acid drainage from surface coal mining, photo courtesy D. Hardesty, USGS Columbia Environmental Research Center.
Lower-volume acidic runoff is remediated with a limestone leach bed. Metals are separated and trapped in the bed, and clean water returns to the stream. But there are some sites that are just too massive for this; some release 800 to 1,000 gallons of contaminated water per minute, according to Sunday Creek watershed coordinator Michelle Shively.
From Chroma, by John Sabraw, photo courtesy of the artist.
Enter two professors from Ohio University: Guy Reifler, civil engineering professor, and John Sabraw, art professor. Instead of trapping and disposing of the iron oxide, they thought, why not dry it and make paint pigment out of it? In 2018, they created a Kickstartercampaign to fund a test program. It raised $33,138. Now they’re proposing to build a full-scale plant that would treat the entire million-gallon-a-day acid runoff from the mine at Truetown in Athens County, Ohio.
It makes perfect sense to reclaim iron oxide that’s been left around by miners; iron oxide was the first pigment; it’s lightfast, safe, cheap and plentiful.
But to process that much water presupposes a market for 5000 pounds of iron-oxide pigment a day. The initial pigment experiments were done by Professor Sabraw; the professors then approached paint-maker Gamblin. It was a good choice; Gamblin has a lengthy interest in environmental sustainability. Among other things, each year they take the pigment powder trapped by the factory’s air cleaner and makes a special batch of paint called Torrit Grey, which they distribute free to their customers.
Gamblin took some of Truetown’s pigment and created three colors with it. They’re shortly going to introduce these in a kit called the Reclaimed Earth Colors set, which will retail at $39.99. They will donate 20% of these revenues back to the Truetown project.
Unfortunately, acid water doesn’t just leach iron out of old mines; it can also bring manganese, cadmium, zinc, copper, arsenic and aluminum along with it. I did wonder how well these less-salubrious minerals have been sorted out of the new pigment. And then I stopped and asked myself whether any mined pigment is pure. Probably not.
It’s a good idea, and one I’m happy to support. However, while Carol Jaeger at Salt Bay Art Supplyin Damariscotta is the source of this information, I haven’t seen these paints on any shelves yet. As soon as they are, I hope they sell.
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How professional artists structure their businesses.

While hundreds read the post, only a small handful answered the questions. Their answers are still fascinating.

Last week, I asked professional artists to tell a young painter from Alabama, Cat Pope, how they organize their business.

This is the first survey I’ve ever written. It was very easy to produce, but there are things I should have asked differently. If you haven’t taken it yet, you can still go to the link here. The results mostly speak for themselves; I’ve just added a few parenthetical notes.

The respondents were heavily slanted to the northeast. Would artists from other parts of the country have answered differently? What about Canadian painters?

How hard, I wonder, is it to keep more than 3 galleries supplied with work? I should have also asked about other spaces like coffee shops, restaurants, or hotels.

This next chart represents some serious online work, even for people who aren’t direct-selling through websites.

I feel the frustration of wearing all the hats, all the time. Apparently, I’m not alone. A lot of us put a lot of soul into the ‘sole proprietorship’ idea.

The following was a badly-designed question. I should have given respondents the opportunity to answer “none.” 40% of respondents skipped it entirely, which makes “none” the second-largest category.

 Another missed opportunity. Why didn’t I ask about annual sales goals?

I included this last question because artists are always being asked to “showcase their work” in charity auctions, yet it’s not a deductible donation for us. When we see that work being sold for a fraction of its gallery price, we think it would be easier to just write a check.

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Professional artists, please take this survey

A young Alabama artist wants to ask you some questions. Help a girl out, would you?
American Eagle in Drydock, by Carol L. Douglas

Cat Pope is a young artist in Mobile Alabama who is serious about building a sustainable art business. She planned a trip to visit an established artist in her community, and shared her questions with me beforehand.

Why limit this to one artist’s experience? Drawing from her list, I created a short survey, which you can access here:
If you are a professional artist and can complete this, that’s great. If you can forward it to your working-artist friends, that’s even better.
What am I going to do with this data? Why, share it with you, of course.
It can’t be all brushwork and happiness…
Here are more of Cat’s questions, which I’ve answered from my experience. If you have any advice you want to share with her, just write a comment here (not on Facebook) where she’ll see it.
How often do you replenish stock at a gallery? When I finish a new piece that is appropriate to a gallery, I approach the gallerist with it. Paintings take a long time to sell. Be patient.
How do you ship work? Small works, by USPS. Large works, through a dedicated local shipping company that makes the crate for me.
A shipping crate from back when I used to make my own.
Do you provide the gallery with your own contract, or rely on theirs? In Maine, things are pretty informal. I read their contract and ask questions and make annotations if necessary.
How often do you increase your prices, and by how much? Every few years. I survey the competition and my galleries for advice.
Do you ever offer discounts for repeat customers? Of course.
What made you choose your art market? I like the tradition of plein air painting on the Maine coast, and it’s a market with a history of making and buying landscape paintings.
Barnum Brook, by Carol L. Douglas, is located in the Adirondacks, which I still consider as part of my regional market.
What percentage of your time is spent creating work? Office duties? I shoot for a 50-50 division of time between painting and promotion.
How many off days do you take in a week for family and personal time? I try to work five days a week. In the summer, that’s impossible, but I remember that “the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.”
What advice would you tell young professionals who want to build a fine arts business, specifically in original paintings? Be serious—as you are—about a business plan up front. Frederic Edwin Church was from a very successful family. Their wealth enabled him to pursue an art career. In turn, he was expected to be business-like about it. It was his skill in business and promotion, as much as his prodigious talent, that made him the legend he is today.