In the end, there’s an
audience for nearly everything. The trick is finding it.
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The Red Vineyard, 1888,
Vincent van Gogh. It was sold to Anna Boch for 400 francs in 1890. Courtesy
Pushkin Museum, Moscow.
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“I like paintings with buildings in them,” a non-artist
friend told me yesterday. “Scenes are beautiful, and I appreciate them, but if
there’s a few cottages by the shore I can imagine the lives of the people who live
in them forever. It’s more interesting over the long haul.”
I was driving at the time (with Bluetooth, of course) back
from picking up paintings at What’s
Nude in Boothbay Harbor. I try to
send them two paintings every year. A naked person on the living room wall isn’t
to everyone’s taste, but every once in a while, someone will express an
interest in one and off it goes.
In the evening, someone else mailed me two images of really
odd paintings. “My friend does some stra-a-a-a-nge art,” she said. I couldn’t
disagree, and yet they were on their way to a juried show.
![]() |
Ward in the Hospital in Arles, 1889, Vincent van Gogh, courtesy Oskar Reinhart Collection.
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Recently, I wrote
that all art criticism is by nature subjective. That’s never truer than in a
particular gallery or show. There, a single juror usually holds sway. There are
also factors about which we’ll never know, like where we live, our subject
matter, and the media in which we work… or if we’ve somehow offended the gallerist
or organizer in the past.
It’s very easy to lose your nerve after a string of
rejections, especially in the dead of winter when most show apps are made. Keep
on persevering. One never knows what the outcome will be.
“A lot of what we sell is popular because it’s pretty and
unchallenging,” says a fictional gallerist in a so-so novel I’m reading. “I do
well out of those artists and that means I can keep stocking artists whose
output is actually meaningful.”
Wouldn’t we all like to meet such a gallerist in real life!
But the truth is that accessible, pretty, and unchallenging does sell most
quickly.
![]() |
The Round of the Prisoners (after Doré), 1890, Vincent van Gogh. Courtesy Pushkin
Museum, Moscow.
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‘I, for my part, know well enough that the future will
always remain very difficult for me, and I am almost sure that in
the future I shall never be what people call prosperous,’ Vincent van Gogh wrote
to his brother Theo.
Legend has it that Van Gogh sold only one painting in his
lifetime, to fellow artist Anna
Boch. This is not true. Vincent sold several works, but his income from
painting was never sufficient to support him.
“Nothing would help us to sell our canvases more than if
they could gain general acceptance as decorations for middle-class houses. The
way it used to be in Holland,” Theo van Gogh
wrote back.
![]() |
The Church at Auvers, 1890,
Vincent van Gogh. Musée d'Orsay, Paris.
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Theo was an influential art dealer in his own right, and was
able to further the careers of Impressionists like Claude
Monet and Edgar Degas. But championing his brother’s ‘strange’ artwork
was beyond even him.
Of course, the great barrier was that Vincent was painting farther
into the future than his peers. His work wasn’t accessible to the contemporary
Parisian in a way that Monet’s and Degas’ were. He had an authentic voice, and
it got in the way of his sales.
In the end, there’s an audience for nearly everything, but the
great career dilemma for the painter is to find it.




1 comment:
Because we're so far away geographically, I'll have to address that in a separate post, in generalities. But in the meantime, are you on Instagram and are you actively working it?
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