Tag: professional artist

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My first professional art show

Marshall Point, oil on archival canvasboard, 9X12. Click on image for more information.

I remember the first professional art show I ever did—vividly and painfully. It was a holiday show at the Rochester Museum and Science Center. I had no trouble getting in, but I had a horrible time figuring out how to choose, present and sell paintings.

Even to my inexperienced eyes, my display looked awful. I was so optimistic before the show, but I sold just a few prints and no originals. It had all looked so easy when I was just a casual observer.

Clary Hill Blueberry Barrens, watercolor on Yupo, ~24X36. Click on image for more information.

A quick note before we get into it

It’s time to claim your spot in Advanced Plein Air Painting, July 13-17 in Rockport, ME. If you have any questions about whether you fit into an advanced class, just ask!

What’s a professional artist?

A few weeks ago, a student said to her classmates on Zoom, “I’m not a professional artist, but…” She’s sold a lot of work, so I think she’s qualified to call herself a pro. However, getting from the mindset of amateur to professional is sometimes hard.

It doesn’t happen when you sell your first painting or when someone praises your work. It’s certainly not when you feel ready, because that day never comes.

When I’m teaching in my home town of Rockport, Maine, I finish my workshops with a student show in my gallery. After days of painting, critique and revision, the work goes up on the wall to be seen by people with no skin in the game. It’s not in a classroom or on an easel with apologies and explanations. It has to speak for itself.

I’ll be doing that in my Advanced Plein Air Painting workshop in July. That’s the only workshop I teach where you have to submit a portfolio to participate. (Email me if you have any questions.)

Seafoam, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard. Click on image for more information.

Showing your work is important

I never encourage students to work towards producing polished paintings. I want them to focus on process, not just in my workshops and classes but throughout their artistic life. I want them to finish our week together having learned new skills. That spirit of learning is important to both amateur and professional artists.

Of course, the language of painting is full of disclaimers. We all tend to introduce our work by citing its shortcomings. But the gallery wall doesn’t care about that. In fact, it often tells us that we’re better than we thought we were.

Exhibiting work forces clarity. Suddenly, composition isn’t theoretical. Your editing either strengthens your painting or it doesn’t. All those quiet decisions you made in the field are now public.

The Surf is Cranking Up, 8×16. Click on image for more information.

What do I mean, ‘advanced painting’?

In my advanced workshop, the goal is not just to learn technique. It’s to integrate it so thoroughly that you can work with authority. That means understanding color and composition, but also trusting your own judgment about what matters and what doesn’t. It means painting with enough conviction that you’re willing to let others see the result.

That’s why my workshops are structured with small groups, intensive daily painting, individual feedback and critique. You’re not just learning to paint; you’re learning to see more clearly and put down paint more decisively.

Showing our work isn’t about perfection. It’s about coherence and courage. Does the painting hold together? Does it say what it needs to say? Does it command attention, even quietly? If the answer is yes, you’ve succeeded.

In the end, the gallery wall is just another teacher.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Miss Congeniality (hah!) is painting with old friends

Sycamore Shadows, 14X18, oil on archival canvasboard, won an honorable mention at our first ticketed paint out.

There’s something energizing about plein air events. It’s not just the fresh air or the radical change of scenery. It’s the camaraderie. I don’t do nearly as many of these as I used to, and whenever I’m at one, I wonder why I’ve cut back.

I like to compare plein air festivals to other closed circuits like rodeo or horse or dog shows. There are surprisingly few regulars, and they keep showing up, over and over. Over the years we get to know each other pretty well. Ironically, I’m painting here at the 21st Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival with Olena Babak. We’re both Mainers but we haven’t seen each other in a few years. That’s ridiculous.

View across the Verde Valley, 11X14, oil on birch panel.

‘That inverted bowl they call the sky’ is itself the introduction, so relationships are easy. We’re all here thinking about the same things. While these events are competitions, they’re overwhelmingly friendly.

I last saw one of this year’s painters a decade ago. It might have been last week, so easily did we fall back into our old joshing. Some of the artists here are my buddies; others I see only once a year. But that is irrelevant when we’re painting.

Art is a funny paradox. It’s essentially a solitary task, but it’s also a shared experience. The casual critiques, the borrowed umbrella (thank you, Krystal Brown) and the jocularity are the moments that both nourish the soul and sharpen the eye.

Crepuscular rays from Forest Road 525, 8X16, oil on linenboard.

As of this morning, I’ve finished three paintings, started a fourth, and painted one absolute dog. The pictures are poor because I keep finishing after dark, but you get the gist of it.

Why Sedona?

If you’ve never painted in Sedona, you’re missing out on a unique experience. I have the great fortune to teach here in March as well as participate in the festival. Four years of painting here intensively, twice a year, and I finally understand the light, the color and the topography. It’s not like any other place I ever paint.

Laura Martinez-Bianco painting into the sunset. As long as there’s light, we paint.

If you’re in Sedona today

Organizers have added 25 additional tickets to tonight’s paint-out at an exclusive private residence near Doe Mountain. You’re invited to watch us work. But hurry—the first tranche of tickets sold out fast. Your ticket will include wine, beer, and gourmet bites from Lighthouse Kitchen as you mingle with artists, collectors, and fellow art lovers. Festivities kick off at 4 PM.

For more information, click here.

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Making the jump to being a professional artist

Inlet, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental US

A., who is a regular in my classes, just sold her first two paintings. “I am so proud of you,” I told her.

It happens more frequently that you might think. As painters get more accomplished, the line between amateur and professional artist starts to blur, until one day a painter realizes he or she has just hopped over it.

Are you an artist?

In Art & Fear: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking, David Bayles and Ted Orland say that you’re an artist if you make art. Your financial success and audience aren’t any part of this definition. (I would add that your financial success is usually an indication of your success as a businessperson, not as an artist.)

Lacecap and Daylilies, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental United States

What is the difference between an amateur and a professional artist?

That distinction is based in part on skill, but it’s more about mindset and commitment. Amateurs create art for personal satisfaction or exploration. Professional artists approach art within a framework of audiences and markets. Neither status is inherently more worthwhile than the other.

Amateurs may sell work occasionally, but that isn’t their primary focus. Professionals have crossed the line to earning all or part of their income through painting sales, teaching, etc. That makes the professional more accountable to deadlines and regular work habits. Professional artists also collect sales tax and pay income tax on their art revenues. 

Brilliant Summer Day, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

With that come some downsides. The amateur can experiment without consequence, whereas the professional artist always considers commercial context as part of their calculations. That means the pro engages with critics, galleries, juried shows, or clients who have expectations and standards—even when he or she doesn’t want to.

Being an amateur isn’t less valid; in fact, there’s freedom in not being locked into producing art to deadlines or expectations. The real difference is how the artist chooses to relate to their art—whether it’s a calling, a career, or a pastime. They’re all good.

Having said that…

Most people who want to make the jump to selling paintings don’t know how to make that a reality. Putting your work in the marketplace is tough; not only is selling paintings hard, so is sharing your personal worldview with so many strangers.

Evening in the Garden, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

For most of the students I know who’ve crossed the line to professional artist, a class or workshop with like-minded students provided the support and encouragement they needed to share their work with a larger audience. For some people, however, that’s not possible, either due to financial or time constraints. For them, learn-at-your-own-pace is a better option. But learning to paint properly is always the first step. We may all be misunderstood geniuses deep down, but the public still demands quality.

I’ve added a footnote to this post telling you all the classes and workshops I’m offering to help you be a better painter. Won’t you sign up for one of them today?

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Finding your artistic voice in the age of social media

Best Buds, 11X14, oil on canvasboard, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

On Wednesday, I wrote about the influence of social media on art. That leads to an inevitable question: how do we find and maintain our authentic artistic voices while navigating a world driven by visibility, algorithms, and market pressures?

Artists have always struggled to find a balance between creative freedom and commerce. That’s especially true for those artists with unique viewpoints. Vincent van Gogh is a prime example of an artist who couldn’t sell his work but profoundly influenced art history. There are others who’ve waited lifetimes to be recognized, but who stayed true to their inner vision.

Then there’s the question of purpose, which I addressed here. Whether you think your art should sooth, heal, provoke or simply entertain, understanding why you make art helps you in finding your artistic voice.

In Control (Grace and her Unicorn), 24X30, $3,478 framed, oil on canvas, includes shipping in continental United States.

The arts and craftsmanship

Craftsmanship is so contrary to our digital culture that it can be a form of resistance. Finding your artistic voice may be as simple as slowing down and focusing on technique and observation. That’s especially important as we see AI eking out more territory in the visual world. What AI can’t do, right now, is copy the individuality of human creations, that gap between our inner vision and what comes off our paintbrushes.

Lean into your own story

I’ve been working on narrative painting for the last six months. Even though that’s not what’s easy for me to sell, I still think it’s the right move for me. In the age of mass-produced, digital artwork, the personal trumps the analgesic quality of much mainstream art. What we know and live is grounded, honest, and impossible for computers or copyists to imitate.

Tilt-A-Whirl, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Be selective in using social media

I’ve spent several months trying to embrace Bluesky, despite thinking that my blue-haired church lady self isn’t a great fit there. Now Bluesky is flatlining. I can hustle to try to find the next new thing, but that’s like a dog chasing its tail. Yes, we should embrace social media platforms, but not to the point where they take over our lives.

My goal is to accept the social media game but on my own terms. Doing that successfully is a constant battle, both against my own lack of engagement and the inscrutability of what’s trending.

Ice Cream Stand, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Experiment

I have a student who has been experimenting with combining watercolor with gouache. You might think that sounds simple, but it requires planning to merge passages of opacity and transparency in the same work. I’ve been delighted by her finished work. Breaking from what she knew seemed to help her sidestep the compositional and brushwork habits she’d learned in watercolor. To some degree, the medium is the message, as Marshall McLuhan famously said.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Like the Left Bank, but with snow

Skylarking II, 18×24, oil on linen, $1855, includes shipping in the continental US.

A few weeks ago, Rachel Houlihan mentioned in one of my classes that she and another artist had run into me along the trail. “How many artists live near you?” another student marveled.

“Oh, lots,” she said. “Thousands. Many well-known ones,” and she proceeded list some of them. It’s true that you can’t throw a stick around here without hitting an artist (or attracting a dog).

I was reminded of this when walking nearby with Richard, a retired architect. “That’s the home of the actor Gabriel Byrne,” he said. (A few years ago, several people sent me this piece about him in the New York Times; I knew the locale intimately, but I still don’t know who Mr. Byrne is. His secret is safe with me.) It’s an arty place, and painting is only one aspect of it.

Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36 $3188 includes shipping in continental US.

The best business decision I ever made

“What was the best business decision you ever made?” I was asked at the Sedona Entrepreneurial Artist Development Program. That was a no-brainer: it was to relocate to an artist community. In my case, that is coastal Maine, but in yours, it might be Santa Fe, NM; Sedona, AZ; Fredericksburg, Texas; Des Moines, IA; or another community I’ve never heard of.

People are often drawn to an artist community—as I was—by the light, beauty, galleries, and the art scene, but there is always more to it. The more concentrated the art scene is, the more likely the work is to be directed towards a stylistic or thematic ideal. That’s how ‘schools’ of art develop. Iron sharpens iron, which means our own work gets stronger when we spark ideas off others.

Of course, you can seek community wherever you live, by working with the best artists you can find: at figure groups, plein air groups, ateliers and art associations. And five years of Zoom teaching has shown me how well the internet creates relationships between artists across the globe.

Skylarking, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

My mutual support system

I have three peers I communicate with almost daily (and paint with as much as possible). They’re among the few people to whom I’ll complain about not getting into a show or about the disappointment of a selling price at an auction—or who will congratulate me when things go well.

I can also ask them for constructive feedback because I trust them. And I suppose if I really needed someone to walk my dog, they’d do that for me too; I’d certainly do it for them.

More importantly, there’s a sense of accountability with them. If I’m in a slump, they drag me out of it, and I try to do the same for them. And even in the snowiest of winter months, I don’t feel totally isolated.

Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed.

Networking

I loathe the word networking, but the fact remains that living in an artist community means more opportunities to connect with art collectors, gallery owners, and industry professionals. It means more events, open studios, galleries and shows.

There also tend to be residencies, workshops, and mentorships in places where artists congregate.

This spring’s painting classes

Zoom Class: Advance your painting skills (whoops, the link was wrong in last week’s posts)

Mondays, 6 PM – 9 PM EST
April 28 to June 9

Advance your skills in oils, watercolor, gouache, acrylics and pastels with guided exercises in design, composition and execution.

This Zoom class not only has tailored instruction, it provides a supportive community where students share work and get positive feedback in an encouraging and collaborative space. 

Zoom class: Signature series

Tuesdays, 6 PM – 9 PM EST
April 29-June 10

This is a combination painting/critique class where students will take deep dives into finding their unique voices as artists, in an encouraging and collaborative space. The goal is to develop a nucleus of work as a springboard for further development.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Sell your work like the luxury good it is

Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

On Wednesday, I asked, “If an idea is so easily interchangeable that anyone can do it, what is the value of the brand itself?” In response, my friend and student Sandy Sibley sent me this article, in which fashion editor Katharine K. Zarrella calls out luxury fashion for its decline in quality and exclusivity.

She criticizes luxury brands for shifting focus from craftsmanship to profit, fueled by social media-driven consumerism, celebrity endorsements, and ‘buy now, pay later’ schemes. These have made luxury items ubiquitous, less exclusive, and often shoddy.

Zarrella argues that luxury is in a death spiral, with some companies reducing prices, selling through outlets, or racking up losses. She encourages consumers to reject overpriced, low-quality goods in favor of more meaningful purchases.

This may be luxury fashion’s loss, but it’s the artisan’s gain.

Winter lambing, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Are paintings luxury goods?

“I’m not sure I would consider fine art as luxury goods,” mused Bobbi Heath, “but that’s probably because I value paintings way, way more than handbags and shoes and perfume.” Well, me too, but that doesn’t mean fine art doesn’t meet the economic definition of a luxury good:

  • Luxury goods see an increase in demand that is proportionally greater than the increase in income. As people’s incomes rise, the demand for luxury goods increases at a faster rate.
  • Luxury goods are not necessities; they are purchased to enhance one’s standard of living, prestige, or personal satisfaction.
  • Luxury goods are expensive compared to their non-luxury equivalents.
  • Luxury goods are seen as a superior product or status symbol.

Oddly, while the best of fine crafts have always been considered luxury goods, fine art isn’t usually called by that name. Until the modern era, painting served practical purposes as well as aesthetic ones. But try thinking of your fine artwork as a luxury good, and see how that affects your marketing.

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Pricing and selling art

My student has made a careful study of what the art market in his rural area will bear. He prices his work accordingly. Prestigious galleries take the opposite approach, choosing swank locations in which to sell extremely expensive paintings. (The current correction in the high-end art market may reflect the same problems that Zarrella pointed out in the fashion industry.) There are, of course, thousands of examples in between these two extremes. Nobody but you can determine exactly where you should fall.

Ralph Waldo Emerson is reputed to have said, “Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door.” That’s never been true. Selling anything, but particularly paintings, is all about brand recognition. Get your name out there by participating in shows, using social media and advertising, and then worry about pricing.

All Flesh is as Grass, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

In every situation, it makes sense to market your work in the slickest way you can, in clean, well-ordered spaces and with on-trend frames.

Luxury goods are not sold by discounting. Instead, focus on creating a compelling brand, providing exceptional customer service, emphasizing exclusivity and quality, targeting the right audience, and offering personalized experiences to cultivate a sense of prestige and value around your work.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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The busy work of professional artists

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“Non-creatives underestimate how much time we spend on non-creative tasks to support our creative output,” artist Cheryl Shanahan recently told me. She was varnishing paintings at the time, but I’ve been thinking about her comment this week. I’m in the middle of a 41-hour drive from Rockport, ME to Sedona, AZ for the 20th annual Sedona Plein Air Festival.

“But that’s on you, Carol,” you may be thinking. Over the past three years, it’s taken 24 hours for me to travel by air from my house to my friends’ house in Phoenix. That includes getting up in the middle of the night to drive down to Portland, layovers, and time spent foozling around renting a car. Driving may add another 16 hours, but when I get there, I have my own car, my own dog, and even my own chair.

And, rather annoyingly, last year my entire painting kit (retail value, ~$600) disappeared somewhere between Sky Harbor’s car rental return and my gate.

Beautiful Dream, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Two winters ago, my son and I contracted COVID in West Yellowstone, MT. Given a choice of feeling horrible in a hotel room for ten days or driving home and feeling horrible in the car, we elected to zip back to his apartment in New York, taking turns sleeping and driving. I learned a few things on that trip, including that COVID is slightly less horrible in a car than in my bed. Just as importantly, America is prettier on the ground than from the aisle seat of a plane.

I’m not planning on getting sick on this trip, but I still had a lot of prep work to do before leaving. That included closing my gallery for the season and wrapping and storing paintings. I won’t be home until early November, after all. In addition, I prepared archival painting boards, matched them to frames, made sure I had enough paint, and sorted and packed my tools and clothes.

I’m luckier than most because I have a 3-day-a-week administrative assistant. But even with that, non-creative tasks often threaten to swamp me. In addition to the Cheryl’s varnishing and my travel, here are some of the things professional artists do that you never see:

Preparing classes and workshops: I love teaching, both on Zoom and in person at workshops, but there’s a lot of lesson planning involved. Some of my students have been with me a long time, and I refuse to feed them warmed-over instruction.

Marketing and Promotion: I’ve had to learn things like SEO the hard way. While Laura manages my promotional materials, website and Google visibility, this blog is still 100% written by me, three days a week. The oldest posts on this platform are from 2007; I don’t know how much earlier I started it.

The Wreck of the SS Ethie, oil on canvas, 18X24, $2318 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Boring old admin: Someone has to read contracts, invoices, and routine emails. Worse, someone has to file state and Federal tax forms.

That includes paying the bills and keeping accurate records, which I do twice a month.

Art handling: Preparing artwork for exhibition includes framing, packaging, and transportation. And you don’t necessarily do it just once—frames get damaged in transit, or by people knocking into them. And they go in and out of style.

Documentation: We used to send work to professionals to be photographed and wait to get slides back. The modern artist photographs his or her own work and maintains records of sales and exhibitions.

Midnight at the Wood Lot, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449.00 framed includes shipping and handling within continental US.

“How long did it take you to do that painting?” is one of the most common questions we’re asked. We like to answer, “a few hours, plus the sixty years I’ve spent learning my craft.” A more accurate answer would include all that back-office work that you, the buyer, never see at all.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Ten ways an art career can drive you nuts

Coast Guard Inspection, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“Finishing, mounting, framing, prepping, switching out the last mixed colors on my palette… this art @#$% is a lot of work,” one of my students texted as he prepared for a show.

That’s why my first question to someone who wants to become a professional artist is, “Do you really want to work that hard?” I’m blessed to be able to support myself as an artist, but I’m under no illusion about what goes into a successful art career. Some weeks, very little of my time is spent painting.

Toy Monkey and Candy, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed.

Here are the ways an art career can mess with your head:

Financial instability: Many professional artists face financial challenges when starting out. It takes time to establish a reputation and generate a steady income from art sales, but it can be done. Professional artists are the canaries in the coal mine when it’s time for an economic downturn, and they will come. Make sure you have a backup plan.

The need for endless self-promotion: Yes, a successful art career rests on marketing ourselves and our work, and building a brand is crucial for success. But self-promotion is challenging to most normal people. I never want to be the person who says, “But enough about me; how do you like my hair?”

Subjectivity: While there are objective standards by which to judge art, success itself is highly subjective. It may have more to do with your external circumstances (your strong white teeth, who you know, being at the right place at the right time) as the quality of your work.

All of us hate rejection: Yesterday I was texting with a person who was rejected for a show for which I thought he was a shoo-in. We’ve all been there. Over time, we either develop thicker skins or we move on to doing something else, but at times we all complain bitterly about jurying. The wisest of us do it quietly, to our trusted friends.

Back It Up, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

The push and pull of communication and isolation: Art is communication, but creating art is a solitary activity. There’s great tension between needing to talk through our work at the same time as we should be buckling down alone in our studios. (Resolving that tension is one of the benefits of classes and workshops.)

Balancing creativity and commercialism: The professional artist must find a balance between creating art for personal fulfillment and art that sells. Omphaloskepsis is the luxury of the person who doesn’t need to work, but at the same time, there’s no point to churning out lighthouse paintings on black velvet. Your art career needs to find a happy medium.

No job security, no 401K, no PTO: As bad as corporate benefits have become, professional artists are, in comparison, out on the highwire without a net. We work project-to-project, often a year or more before we show our work. Our financial management must be very keen or we’ll be working at Walmart before you can say Jack Robinson, whoever he was.

Constant skill development: You never totally master painting; you just keep refining your skills until your hands fall off. A successful art career requires mastering new technologies and concepts. Staying relevant means continuously leaning into them. The art world bears little resemblance to that of my youth. Overall, I think the changes are great, but they do keep me on my toes.

Brooding Skies, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522

Constantly foraging for opportunity: Securing exhibition opportunities and commissions is competitive and challenging. Next time you’re debating curling up with a good book or going to that opening, consider your art career and put your shoes on.

That blasted time management: I started writing this because something knocked me for a loop yesterday. I flitted between unrelated tasks all day rather than buckling down to what I had intended to do. Juggling multiple projects is the hardest part of my job.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Monday Morning Art School: what should I charge?

Dish of Butter, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping in continental US. I was discussing transparency with my drawing class on Saturday, so here are some transparency paintings.

In 2018, I wrote, “Does anyone ever tell Christian Louboutin that $995 is a bit much for a pair of platform suede pumps? No; they either understand Louboutin’s market or they don’t buy designer shoes.” I was stunned to learn that you can still buy a pair of Christian Louboutin suede pumps for $995. Meanwhile the price of a loaf of white bread has risen 33.69% during the same period.

Luxury goods-which paintings very much are-do not follow the general rules of retail pricing. Since people don’t need them, they can be as fickle and subjective as they want in their purchasing.

Stuffed animal in a bowl with Saran Wrap. 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

A proper price is the intersection of how much you can produce of the product and how much demand there is for it. If you can’t keep your paintings stocked, you’re charging too little. If your studio is jammed with unsold work, you’re either charging too much or not putting enough effort into marketing. Your job is to find that sweet spot. (But bear in mind that we all paint a lot of duds between the good ones, and periodically weed them out accordingly.)

A friend prices his work slightly lower than his peers, because he wants it to look like a good deal in comparison. It helps that we both know exactly who our peers are. (Of course, women’s art generally sells at a discount to men’s, despite the fact that in a blind test, consumers can’t tell the difference.)

Back It Up, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

Most artists are terrible judges of their own work, seesawing between believing they’re geniuses and thinking they’re hopeless. That hinders our ability to subjectively price our work. Don’t assume that because you labored for a long time over a piece, it is more valuable. Your challenges are not the buyers’ problem.

Set aside your emotions and base your selling price on the size of the piece and your selling history. How do you do that if you’ve never sold anything before? Survey other artists with the same level of experience and set your first prices in line with theirs. Visit galleries, plein air events and art fairs. Before you decide an artist is your peer, find his resume online and check his experience. Painting in a national show is not the same as painting your local, unjuried Paint the Town.

The artist’s prominence is the single biggest factor in a painting’s value.

Charity auctions are a good way to leverage your talent to help others. They also provide a sales history to new artists. Let’s say you donated an 8X10 watercolor and it sold at auction for $100. Great! You have a sales history (albeit a limited and imperfect one) from which to calculate prices. Just figure out the value per square inch and calculate from there.

Square inch is the height times the width. That means your 8X10 painting is 80 square inches. Dividing the $100 selling price by 80 gives you a value of $1.25/square inch.

To use this to calculate other sizes, you would end up with: 6X8 is 48 square inches.

48 X $1.25 = $60
9X12: $135
11X14: $240
12X16: $315

In practice, my price/sq. inch gets lower the larger I go. This reflects my working and marketing costs.

Saran Wrap Cynic, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2100 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This was the endpoint of all those plastic wrap paintings–a series on the commodification of women. Ah, to be young and didactic again!

When I first moved to Maine, one of my gallerists was also my good friend. She took a red pencil to my price list and brought it up to Maine standards. But don’t expect gallerists to do this for you; they expect artists to set their own prices.

It’s much easier to raise prices than lower them, so start low and work your way up. Another wise birdie once told me that I should adjust my prices annually, so that’s what I do. Our goal ought to be to sell at constantly rising prices. When you find yourself painting on a treadmill to have enough work for your next show, it’s time to charge more. Each time you show, your work will be better known, and over time your prices will rise.

And, by the way, I would never spend $995 on a pair of shoes.

On Friday, I released Step 5, the Foundation Layer, of my Seven Protocols for Successful Painters. This is the heart of painting, where the first layer of color is applied. It’s the next best thing to studying with me live.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

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Going pro

Bracken Fern, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

A professional artist is, by definition, one who sells art. That’s different from an amateur, or one who makes art as an avocation. Neither is inherently better than the other. There is a range of engagement, of course. There are people who never sell work, people who sell occasionally, people who sell as a side gig, and people for whom art is a full-time job.

Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of people move from amateur to pro. I love watching the transition, although it ultimately takes painters out of my orbit and onto a path of their own. I’d like to introduce you to a few painters that I taught in 2023. I encourage you to follow their links to see not just the work they’re doing, but how they’re marketing.

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Patty Mabie Rich blew out of New York about five seconds after retirement, relocating to the sun-drenched sands of Myrtle Beach. If you look at her About the Artist page, you’ll see her painting in the filtered light that’s so common in central New York. Her palette has exploded in color since her move, as she thoroughly embraces the southern coastal vibe.

Karen Ames has a gilt-edged CV that included stints as the communications director for the San Francisco Opera, San Francisco Symphony, and Houston Grand Opera. I wish she’d do my marketing too, because her first solo show of paintings sold out. She’s also very larky and funny, and her painting has an edgy energy.

Eastern Manitoba River, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Linda Smiley is a principal at Saam Architecture in Boston and paints on the side. Although she doesn’t have an art website, she sells her work through ArtbyKaty Gallery in Stonington, ME. Last year she did a collaborative show with woodworker Bob Winters, where she painted inset panels for his beautiful cabinets. Low-key marketing works for her; she sold at least ten paintings at that show.

Stephen Florimbi only studied with me for one session as he negotiated the pivot from abstraction to realism. He likes painting the world of boats and boatbuilding. However, he also has an almost-obsession with the winter woods. He did a solo show at the Apprenticeshop, where he was artist-in-residence. I noticed several red dots at the opening.

“Do you ever sleep?” I asked Cassie Sano. In addition to teaching watercolor and doing regular solo shows, she has written and published three children’s books, with a fourth coming out this spring. She’s as bubbly and energetic and outdoorsy as her work.

Maynard Dixon Clouds, 11X14, oil on archival canvas board, $869 includes shipping in continental US.

Last month, Amy Sirianni stopped by my studio to pick my brain about teaching art to young kids. She’s a natural, since she has a degree in art and teaching experience. I touched base with her recently. “My class is sold out,” she told me. She’s a success with almost no internet presence.

Texan Mary Silver shows her watercolors with the historic River Arts Group in San Antonio. She has a wicked sense of humor, and her work often reflects that. She’s been studying with me on and off since COVID, and is planning on joining me in Austin for my workshop in March.

Mary and her friend Annette once stayed with me after my workshop aboard American Eagle, when their hotel room fell through. It was a terrible deal for them; they helped me empty my kitchen for demolition.

Mark Gale started studying with me as he prepared to retire and move from Wisconsin to Texas. He is my monitor at the Austin workshop. Through Park Art Project, he donates part of the proceeds from his sales to non-profits in the Austin area. He also works with Austin’s homeless population, encouraging them to make and sell art.

Becky Bense has been my student at Sea & Sky at Schoodic for many years. (She would like to take my Monday evening classes, but inevitably falls asleep before they’re half finished.) Recently she’s been interested in neurographic drawing, an approach that neatly ties together her delicate drawing and the spirituality that underlies her work.

Lastly, I would be remiss in not mentioning MP. He’s not a professional, but he sold his first watercolor painting at a fundraiser last year for $7000. (That is not a typo.) I’d suggested a nominal price of $750-shows what I know!

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

An addendum: since it’s hard to understand Linda Smiley’s collaboration with Bob Winters, here’s a photo: