The art of commerce, 4: When global is local

When I first came to North Georgia, I asked a local gift shop owner what sort of photographs I should bring her – what sells?

She said, “Oh – the covered bridge! People always love the covered bridge.”

I dutifully trooped off and photographed the bridge for several afternoons. I got bored with it almost immediately.

As I was poking around under the bridge, looking for an unusual angle, my eye was drawn to a crisp leaf suspended in mid-air….  in a very fine spider’s web. The late afternoon light caught it just right.

Once I slowed down and began looking at those small details, the bridge became a fascinating and beautiful place. Eventually I did a small photo essay book about it (using Lulu.com).

Not surprisingly, I have sold more prints of the “straight” photos of the covered bridge than I have sold of the photo essay book. But I managed to make the assignment into something that was both artistically and commercially satisfying.

One of my favorite shots from the covered bridge series was a macro of well-hammered and web-encased bolt. I printed it on 16 by 20 canvas and exhibited it at the local Fitness Center, where the staff told me it became a real conversation piece.

People weren’t sure what it was, even though it was such a common object. They guessed it was a hat, a cake, or a building…. and then were amazed to read the tag with the title: “Bolt, Covered Bridge.”

I sold two prints of it. But that was enough to make me feel validated.

I do a lot of abstracts based on extreme close-ups (see my “Guess What” series on this blog), and my artistic purpose is twofold:

-to find and highlight the structures, textures and other design elements found in “natural architecture”, whether a leaf, bark, or moth wing;

-to help people see differently – by showing them very familiar places and objects in a way that they do not recognize.

Recognition, though, helps sell art. Abstracts are disorienting, on purpose; but disorientation doesn’t usually prompt someone to whip out their checkbook.

So, you need to “ground” your audience if you want to sell your work. Sometimes just explaining what or where the photograph actually “is” (in the straight-world sense) will be enough that people can connect to it.

Even though the point of my abstracts is universality, many people need to feel it’s something they know and understand before they will like or buy it.

Where I live (in North Georgia), art is considered somewhat alien – one of those odd things that hangs in Atlanta museums. But when locals venture into my gallery space, they are thrilled to see the flowers, covered bridges, and rock formations that are familiar to them, formally presented as art.

It’s art they can feel proud of, a sense of personal ownership of the subject matter. It helps them to bridge the gap that is sometimes created by the mere term “art”.

[View the complete set at now-defunct group photoblog]