As an artist, it’s easy to think you’re selling art, right? That thing you spent hours or months slaving away at. That final piece that someone will hang on their wall in their home and call their own? The layers of paint, expertly placed just so. It’s taken years of experience to get to this point. The point when you can call yourself an artist?
But I’m not sure that artists are selling only the final piece. See, I’m starting to think that there are two types of buyers. I don’t know what to call them but here’s what characterises the difference.
Two types of buyers
The first buyer is the one who’s buying the commodity. The thing that looks nice. The thing that matches their rug, or their couch, or their child’s space-themed nursery. They’re the sort of buyer who is happy to pay you for it, but, if they can get it cheaper elsewhere, they will. They’re the type of buyer who feels that, should Target or K-Mart steal your work from Instagram and mass-produce it, there’s no difference. It still matches their rug.
The second type of buyer is the one who purchases the story. Sure, they like the final piece. It probably still matches their rug, or couch, or their child’s space-themed nursery. But, they’re the sort of buyer for whom originality matters. Where mass-production somehow devalues the piece. These buyers are willing to pay more (although every buyer is still price-sensitive). And while it may seem that, even to the buyer themselves, they are buying the art, what they’re actually buying is more than that. They’re purchasing a license to tell your story.
Buying stories
When both buyers hang your art above their couch, the surface-level experience is mostly the same. Friends come over for a dinner party and applaud both buyers on their stylish curation and expert taste in interior design, “Wow, you’ve got such great taste,” they say. But it’s at this point where the similarities stop; the buyer must now respond to their friends’ gushing kindness.
The first buyer responds with gratitude and then overwhelming excitement for the deal they got. “Can you believe I got this from K-Mart for just $15?” They say. “Some artist is trying to sell these on Instagram for like $300!” And, it follows that their friends are stunned by the bargain and heap congratulations on this buyer for their bargain-hunting prowess.
The second buyer, however, responds quite differently. They paid the $300 price tag, direct from the artist, and they still feel as though they have a deal. That’s because they’ve bought something quite different. Yes, they’ve still got the final piece. But, instead of focussing on the cost, they spend 15 minutes sharing a story of making a connection. They purchased an original directly from the artist, they say. They browsed the artist’s site for months as they saved to buy this specific piece. They emailed the artist back and forth and built a personal relationship with them. They might even call them ‘an artist friend they know’ now. They talk about how this piece was created en-plein air on the artist’s recent travels to Croatia. They followed the progress of the painting on Instagram. They know that it, in fact, took over 300 hours of work, 3 months to complete, and while the artist was doing so, they were incredibly nervous about how it was progressing. There’s online evidence to share with their friends.
The story of the second buyer is rich. It’s full of emotion, human connection, struggle and achievement. It’s as unique as the painting itself. Their friends are on tenterhooks; they pick up their phones and follow the artist on their social media channel of choice. Through association, they feel they know you already. Because of the story that the second buyer has purchased, the piece maintains an exquisite central presence in their home for many years. When the couch is no longer in fashion, it’s not the painting that goes, but the new couch is selected to match the painting. The story gets told and re-told. Again and again, as new friends and connections are made. The artist gains more attention and admiration. One friend contacts the artist directly, “You did this for my friend, I’d like something similar too.” Which is code for, “Can I have a story like that?”
Meanwhile, as time passes, the first buyer tires of the painted reproduction they bought from K-Mart. Once out of fashion, it loses its value. The story of the ‘bargain buy’ is one that everyone has experienced, and since the reproduction was reduced not long after it was purchased (because technology continues to make it possible to make more of them for less), now $15 seems expensive. When the first buyer looks upon their piece, they don’t feel elation or deep emotional connection. The feeling changes to one of negativity and ‘being screwed over yet again’. Art is fickle, the first buyer thinks. The mass-produced reproduction is left out for hard-rubbish, bitterly disposed of. It’s replaced with something else of equal or lesser value but at least it’s on trend, and still probably a bargain.
David and Goliath
As an artist, you can feel powerless when you’re facing the beasts of scale and mass-production of chain stores who can produce or reproduce popular art at a cost at which you cannot compete. But that’s only if you’re viewing your own art through the same lens as buyer one, just a painting. You’re comparing apples with apples.
But see, when you make your art, it’s not about apples vs apples. You’ve got something incomparable – the story behind your art. The process, the pain, the hardship, the excitement. There are buyers out there who value these things. Yes, they’re buying your final piece, but they’re also purchasing your story. They’re purchasing connection. And, in a world where we’re all starting to feel increasingly disconnected, the value of this connection that we make through art is becoming increasingly sought after. People are buying followers, why wouldn’t they also be buying relationships with artists?
Are you selling art or stories?
In the end, this comes down to how you’re selling your art. And how you’re selling your art comes down to what you think you’re selling. Are you selling your story? The story of how the work came to be? Are you putting in the work to show people your process? Are you giving them an inside look into a world that feels so unattainable for so many; people who feel they can’t produce what you can?
If not, are you surprised to learn that buyers will choose the cheap K-Mart reproduction over the single image you upload? If you’re not sharing the story, all you’ve got is an image that has no context or background. No story. If the image is everything, K-Mart will do.
So, which buyer do you want and what are you doing about it?