My art show sold nothing

and it was still worth it.

I participated in my first art fair and didn’t sell any paintings.

In my village, for one week, each May - Artists open the doors of their homes or find temporary homes in pubs, cafes, the town hall, the local library and we display our art. We put it up for sale. We share it with the community.

Frankly, it fucking slaps. It’s so beautiful seeing just how many incredibly creative people there are in the place where I live. I met so many incredible artists . I bought and invested in several precious pieces.

And I myself decided to participate this year. I am, of course, predominantly a writer, but I also write my words on canvas and have been doing so for many years. I have never put my pieces up for sale, or even displayed them publicly. This was going to be my first time.

So I set up shop in the local pub. John the landlord was so generous in letting me be The Spire and Spokes’ sole artist in residence for the nine days. I put my art up around the cozy pub and set up shop there. I felt shy hanging up the canvas, I was a wee baby, doing something new.

James manning the station

Here are a few stand out moments from my first art show:

The woman who came up to see my pieces but spent the entire time looking at the light fittings, which she declared was “some of the most beautiful light fittings she’d ever seen.” (They are beautiful).

Meeting Lynette Carter and getting to have a writing session with her! It was so delightful.

I had a couple who came up to look at my work, declared loudly “Oh that looks so good!” I look up, eager to engage in conversation about the piece they liked and realised they were reading the Pizza Of The Week sign.

Michelle Abrahall came and found me, and she painted my hands! What an honour.

Two elderly ladies who perused my paintings, then picked up a copy of my book and began discussing it without realising the author was next to them. In the end they decided it wasn’t for them, and they’d just wait to see it in the movies. Iconic. Prophecy. May it be. A We Need Your Art film.

I didn’t sell any of my pieces.

Not a nibble. No one was interested over the 9 days of the display.

Over the past decade of working with artists, I have spoken and worked with many creatives who have navigated this very situation. They pay the fee to book their spot at the art fair, they market their art, they set up the shop, they talk to strangers and then they don’t sell anything.

I feel very proud to have joined ranks with this cohort of creatives. The bravest of the brave. I am so in awe of us.

Why did I not sell anything?

The reason why my art didn’t sell anything is because: my art is shit, because it’s silly, and foolish and weird, and I am not even a real artist anyway, and they could all tell!

These are the easiest assumptions to make, aren’t they? The Inner Critic leaps to these sorts of conclusions. The inner critic is wrong.

My art didn’t sell perhaps because I was not selling to my audience. (My audience are artists, and most of them were busy showing their own art.)

My art didn’t sell perhaps because it was very sunny this week, and most people who visited the pub were outside!

My art didn’t sell perhaps because I priced my pieces wrong, things are tight for many right now!

My art didn’t’ sell because I didn’t man my desk enough! There’s high possibility that I missed a few people when I ducked back home.

There are many reasons why perhaps my art didn’t sell, and why perhaps your art didn’t sell - and none of the reasons are that our art is shit.

Our art is magnificent. Our art is needed. Our art has an audience out there, we just need to find them.

Money isn’t the only evidence of impact.

Just because my art didn’t sell this week, doesn’t mean my art didn’t impact.

No money exchanged hands, but that is not the only way to measure impact. Lots of people saw my art this week, and I trust that for some people, my art has stayed with them. I know for Judy, the regular who comes in to the pub to study, she found the “it’s okay to live a life other’s don’t understand” artwork very meaningful.

And even if I hadn’t had a lovely exchange with Judy, art is often making impact quietly, without us ever knowing, without obvious evidence. Perhaps the lady who loved the lighting fixtures also found my piece about perfectionism poignant, you just don’t know.

Your art is worth it even if it makes no money.

This week was worth it even though I made a financial loss. It just felt so deliciously triumphant to finish the art week, having sold zero paintings, and to still know without a shadow of a doubt that my art is needed, worth money, makes impact and is important.

As is yours, Creator.

Amie.

This essay is part of a larger truth:
Your art matters. My book We Need Your Art is proof.