

I have wisdom to impart, or at least I think I do. Humor me.
1: Don’t get drunk at your own show (Actually, Juxtapoz gets credit for that one. This is not really something I’ve had a problem with, though some of you certainly have).
2: Don’t do band logos and album covers for free. If they’re paying you in “exposure”, they have none to offer. They’re in the same boat you are.
3: Resist the urge to compete for the title of “Biggest Fish in Little Pond”. This means that when you’re in a room full of creative types who are all trying to qualify themselves by dropping names and rattling off their accomplishments, smile and nod. Pretend you’re happy for “The Next Big Thing”. Pretend you actually believe he’s three seconds away from becoming Jean Michel Basquiat. If you allow your ego to get the best of you and respond in kind, you’ll only annoy him. Nobody ever really believes he’s famous anyway. You can get more out of a working relationship with this kind of person if you let him believe that he’s an industry heavyweight condescending to your level, willing to give you a hand up whatever ladder he imagines himself to be climbing than by trying to make him think you’re higher up than he is.
4: The gallery is not your enemy. In some cases, it may be the only real friend you have. Save your anti-establishment diatribes for the institutions who are not going out of their way to see that you’re paid fairly for the product you’re trying to sell. So they want 40%. Give them 40% and raise the price. It’s worth it. Having said that,
5: If said gallery is really just a couple of dudes living in a basement, a converted hot dog stand, an old gas station, a grain silo, or a pipe organ, and promises a rigorous application process with a jury of “experts” who have to approve you before giving you the distinct honor of paying a “nominal fee” to have two or three paintings hanging in their next “group show”, tell it to go to hell.
6: If you’re having a small show that isn’t taking place on the night of an art walk, invest in a large cake. The smaller the show, the larger the cake. Print “THERE WILL BE CAKE” on the flyer. They’re more interested in the cake than they are in the fact that you’ll be there.
7: Don’t be afraid to sell a painting for much less than what you think it’s worth. I paint and sell my work on the street, and I’ll occasionally let a piece go for next to nothing. This is the only job I have. They have to sell, otherwise I don’t eat. I know a lot of artists who would disagree with this. The walls of their living spaces are adorned with their thousand-dollar paintings that will never sell. They can afford the luxury of being unattainable because they have tech support day jobs. I don’t. It’s either do this or eat trash.
8: Become acquainted with your local laws. In Tempe, Arizona, you can paint and sell your work in public forums without a license of any sort. I took advantage of this fact the day that I found out about it, and it has changed my life. Unfortunately some cities are not abiding by federal law, so setting up shop on a busy street could get you fined or imprisoned, depending on where you are. Write your city attorney and find out.
9: If you’ve only sold one or two paintings over the course of your entire career, having a show in a coffee shop is not “beneath you”. It certainly isn’t beneath me, and I’ve probably sold hundreds of my crappy paintings. Coffee shops get a lot more foot traffic than a gallery that’s open one-and-a-half-days-a-week-and-Sunday-by-appointment-only.
10: Your ego is your worst enemy. It took me a good ten years to figure out that I don’t need to aspire to be the next great anything. Knowing and celebrating your insignificance is liberating. Be legitimately happy for your friends when they sell a painting or appear in the local paper. They’re not trying to screw you with their successes. Know your weaknesses. Resist the urge to defend yourself against honest criticism.