Finally "Making It"

Those of us who enter any field of the arts recognize the phrase "making it." This is usually centered around the idea that once you gain a certain momentum in your work, that you've "made it." In the illustration field, it's about "breaking in," which means getting freelance work in the publishing industry.

For most aspiring artists, it's about being able to quit the boring day job and working full time at one's art. Others put a price tag on the achievement; making X dollars per year is the goal. For some it's all about recognition from one's peers and winning certain industry accolades. How do you define it?

I had a revelation recently that defines it yet another way. What if "making it" has nothing at all with the industry? What if it's purely about one's own satisfaction? What if it's only about the doing?

My own trajectory of "breaking into the field" long ago included a speedy 3-day transition from my day job as a house cleaner when I promptly got 2 books upon submitting my work to publishers (my first of many self promotional forays). Working in the children's science and educational market under the auspices of a well-known NYC agent, I began to define "making it" as not just being able pay my regular bills, but to have a "comfortable" life, ie. economic padding beyond an emergency fund.  After a decade of trying to get ahead, I became unhappy with my meager income, so I worked even harder; I hustled taking on more and more projects, really anything my agent set me (minus work from overtly religious institutions). I worked smarter, streamlining my technical skills even more, shortening the amount of seat time with time-saving strategies in design and facture.

Still, it wasn't enough.

I began to see that much of my frustration was borne of boredom with the science market. After 1000 or so paintings of Monarch butterflies, 1000s of paintings of the same big African Safari / Arctic/ Jungle fauna, 100s of images of the same species of flower under one's belt, one finds that one has painted them in every permutation possible --and then one begins to question the sanity of an industry that only uses certain commodifiable species over and over to generate its consumer base. It became imperative for me to get out.

According to my standards, I was no longer "making it" and this played havoc with my self-esteem. I felt like I was a failure. But at what? I was voluntarily leaving behind 20 years of clients and a solid reputation, but decided to strike out and try to "break into" another part of the illustration industry.

So, starting over....

Three years later, after having transitioned into to the F+SF genre, I am happier with my subject matter;  I am rejuvenated spiritually and my illustration practice is sustainable again. Teaching part-time at a local college, too, provides me with an important academic outlet that was missing. The additional income as an adjunct prof relieves the pressure on having to sell my soul; I can be choosy about what projects I accept as a freelancer. The bigger struggle, however, has been to redefine what it means for me to be "making it." No longer can I tie it to money or being completely self-employed, because teaching is something that I truly love and now wouldn't want to give that up. Neither can I tie it to recognition because I've walked away from those clients who used to ask for me by name. For me, real success-- making it-- has become the freedom to pick and choose the projects that I want to do. It means having the time to produce my own self-generated work in which my voice and my ideas are clearly represented.

How freeing.

Not surprisingly, "making it" has nothing to do with money, industry recognition, etc. It never has. It has to do with making the work. Yes, that's right. Every day that you get up and do your work is making it. When you come home from your day job, shut the door to your studio and get to work, that is making it.  When you produce something that you love, that is making it.

When it comes down to what you really get from art, you will find that there is no other substitute.

Pricing Your Work

How does an artist price her/ his work? I get this question a lot, specifically pertaining to the market prices for illustration work. If you don't have an agent who knows the ins and outs of what is happening with the market fees for the illustration genre, and you're billing clients on your own, I suggest you get a copy of the most recent Ethical Guide to Pricing by the Graphic Arts Guild. They put out a new volume every year to keep up with the current pricing trends. Even so, you should learn that you can negotiate with clients to bump up the fees once you become more established.

For artists selling their work within any fine art venue (including conferences), the answer is a bit more complex. If you don't live in New York or some other fashionable big city where art is a serious commodity, prices that you can expect for your work will be a lot lower. And prices will be different in the US than in Europe, so be prepared to do a little homework before you put your tag on it. If you're working within a gallery setting, the owner will more than likely be able to offer you some guidance if you need help.

I want to thank collector and art sales guru, Jane Frank, for taking the time to write to me and for her generous advice on the subject of pricing and haggling. (Some of her thoughts on negotiating are loosely transcribed into the latter portion of this entry.)

Artists usually have *some* idea of what they want for a work of art, but let's face it, most artists tend to value the work from a place of sentimentality and that's precisely where there's room for haggling. Sentimental value may be as good a method as any in determining what the market will bear. If the work is of some quality and price is too low, the work will be quickly snatched up. Yet even a low price won't move "poor" quality work*. Where the work is of good quality but priced too high, there exists an opportunity for both parties.  "Ugh!" you say; "I  hate to have to haggle for my work!" Many artists, indeed, prefer not to discuss it at all, having a rigid take-it-or-leave-it stance. But with the right mindset, you can make a sale where you might not have otherwise, for a price that is still reasonable to both you and the buyer.  I was happy to learn that this negotiating process can include fun banter --and no personal insults pertaining to the messy birth of camels on beds. It goes something like this:

Let's say that the art in question is priced at $400.

Buyer: "I don't want to pay your price. Can you do better, or is your price firm?"
Neutral Artist response: "What did you have in mind?"
Motivated Artist: "Make me a fair offer, and it's yours."
Very Motivated Artist: "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Artist's Banter: If you want more info before committing, add - "Are you really serious about buying?" or   "Are you ready to buy now? / Is there some price that would make you buy it now, on the spot?"  

Jane says: You can prolong this agony as long as you like, but bear in mind, some buyers hate negotiating, and others love it and will keep you at it all day

Timid Buyer (or one just never wanting to pay retail): "I'm not sure", or "I don't know; whatever you can do." (ie. no offer)
Aggressive Buyer: "How about $250?" (40%)
Very Aggressive Buyer: "How about $200?" (half)   

Yikes. What to do next?

Buyer's Banter: The buyer is sidestepping making an offer because then they could see what the artist would do, gauging how much the artist cared about the piece, prolonging the negotiations in the hope of learning more.

Assuming you are not accepting the $250 or $200: 

Artist response to Timid Buyer:  "I'll go as low as $360." (10%). If he's bought other pieces before, or buying more than one, $340, (15%)
To Aggressive Buyer: "Let's split the difference ($325)."
To Very Aggressive Buyer with whom you don't mind going another round: "Oh dear, that's harsh; you're killing me; wow, I wish I could," etc., etc. "How about $350?"

Jane says, NOTICE: The next natural step up for buyer is $250, and you are back to $325 on the last step, or the 'split'  If you do mind going another round, you can call it quits now and "split the difference;" you get $300.  Notice that you end up with less by capitulating one round short.  An aggressive buyer is counting on the artist to be a 'wimp', and not go all the way for fear of losing the sale. 

Jane's Point #1: Remember to never negotiate with yourself. You have no idea what the buyer's best offer would be and you're pricing blindly when you automatically lower your price to what you think the buyer would be willing to pay. Only lower your price after you've wrangled an offer from the other side first, and only to 10%.  No more than that: they haven't earned it, or worked for it. You will almost always have a better chance of successfully completing a sale, or come away with more from a sale, if you force a buyer to make an offer.  But even at the worst extreme, it gives you the power to either accept, counter, or walk away.  While volunteering to lower the price without an offer gets you nowhere, especially when half of the time, the buyer will say "Hmm, ok; I'll think about it."  

Jane's Point #2: Don't be intimidated by a slick negotiator who tells you stories about what they paid for other artists' work. Your art is your own unique product and cannot be compared price-wise.  Your job is to get the buyer to pay more than he wanted to pay, all the while selling the work for less than you wanted to accept.  That indefinable, exact place of pain and pleasure-- less than you thought you would get and more than you thought they would pay-- is where you want to be, every time you negotiate. 

Great advice! Thanks again, Ms. Frank! Try out these negotiating tips next time you're at a conference or show, then write to me and let me know how well it worked.


*"Quality" standards for works of art and the subsequent valuation placed upon them are entirely dependent on the buyer / collector / genre and venue. Really.