This year, one of my goals is to open up about the business side of making and selling art. In my previous post, I revealed the true cost of art when it comes to selling at art festivals. In this post, I answer questions about retail price and the value of art.

I am not a pricing expert; I'm an artist who struggles with pricing. I feel that I'm constantly reevaluating and adjusting my prices. Price and value are difficult and this post addresses what I've learned so far. I always have more to learn.

​How is retail price calculated?
A traditional formula for calculating retail price is:
Costs of labor + cost of materials + business costs/overhead = Wholesale Price
2 x Wholesale = Retail Price
​

​What makes pricing art different?
A traditional formula like the one above is derived from manufacturing industries where there are high volumes of "widgets" being produced. In contrast, the very nature of art is that it is one-of-a-kind.

​Pricing art using a traditional formula doesn’t work well because the value of art is subjective. Basically, the list price is what an artist hopes someone will pay. But, the truth of the matter is that some art never finds a buyer. An artworks’ value is only determined once an artwork has found a buyer. ​When an artist and buyer agree upon a sale price, that is when its value is determined.

How do you calculate the retail price of your art?
Despite the difficulties of retail price versus value, we still have to start somewhere! Here is a simplified version of the pricing structure that I use to determine the retail price of my art:

​Why is the Retail Price so high?
In an art gallery setting, when/if an artwork is sold, the gallery takes half of the sale. In essence, the artist is paid their “wholesale price” for the art.
 
An art gallery takes half of the sale?!
It may sound like a lot, but an art gallery has its own costs and overheads (rent, employees, etc.) to pay and it needs to make money in order to stay in business. Just like an artist, the only way a gallery makes money is by selling art!

An artist may choose to sell their art without a gallery, but these settings come with a cost as well (for example, see the costs associated with selling at art festivals in my previous post). Selling art at retail price regardless of setting allows these costs to be recouped.
​

I had good reason to expect that the two festivals I got into to would be decent shows for me. I did my research on both events and I heard great things. But I'm not naïve, I know that doing any art show - especially if it includes large travel expenses - is a huge gamble. But I figured that if I could double the amount of sales I made at one show last year, it would be worth it. 

Unfortunately, the end result of this experience has left me not only in debt, but also questioning my art. I've decided to share the true cost of selling my art at these shows. This is not an easy decision; I know that people unwittingly prefer to support winners and I could lose sales over this. I usually try to be as upbeat as possible about my art career in public. But I'm not sure it can get much worse; this week I definitely feel like the loser in Beck's song.

It's hard to imagine all of the time the entire art-festival-going process takes. Usually I try not to think about it since none of it is paid time. But, in an effort to be transparent, here's a look at some of the time I put into doing these two art festivals. 

1. The time I spent creating the art. This really can't be measured. Years, months, days, hours...
2. The time spent driving to and from the art festivals: 52 hours.
3. The time I spent setting up my tent and art display. This takes about 4-6 hours each time.
4. The hours that the art festivals are open to the public. The two-day show was a total of 15 hours. The three-day show was a total of 23 hours.
5. All of the time I spent taking down my display and tent. This takes about 3 hours each time.
6. All of the time it takes to run a business. Seriously, I don't even know how to measure this. I guess the best I can say is that I spend several hours on my business every single day. This is separate from making art.

Total hours put into the festivals (does not include making the art!) = 108 hours

"Okay," you're probably saying, "but how much money did you make?!" 

Here is the dismal truth...
​
Show one: $698.00 in sales 
Show two: $2,323.00 in sales

Total after expenses =  -$3,290.00

This result is extremely embarrassing to share. Sure, there are places I could have cut costs. I could have slept in the cheapest (worst) hotels available. I could have driven through the night (dangerous and stressful). I could have done the second show without my husband's help (no lunch or bathroom breaks and no support) and saved on his airfare. But regardless of expenses, the amount I made in sales wasn't worth it.

Where do I go from here? I don't know. I have more questions than answers.

​Is it me? Does my art suck? Should I get a "real" job? If so, what makes something a "real" job? Maybe it's not me, maybe it's the economy? Perhaps people are too worried about inflation? Do people ever spend money on art? Do any artists make money at art fairs? Maybe it's my medium? Perhaps people aren't interested in purchasing textile art? And around again: Is it me?

Who knows. All I know is that I can't NOT make art. (I've tried to stop.) So despite the huge emotional toll all of this puts on me, I'm already planning for my next art festival. 

​Spring comes slowly
 
Spring comes so slowly in Minnesota. It forces patience upon you, however unwilling you are. Every morning you wake up to another sprinkling of snow, no matter how much you long for the flamboyant beauty of your crabapple tree in full bloom. You are tired of the waiting. You say, “I can’t take it anymore. I cannot handle this for one more day.”
 
Especially after such a long winter. A long, bitter winter filled with trials and tribulations that scraped your insides out and left you raw.
 
Don’t you deserve some easy beauty? The hot sun on your shoulders, flowers blooming, butterflies floating through the garden.
 
But the world owes you nothing. If you want to find beauty, you’re obliged to notice the simple, subtle beauty of spring coming slowly. So, fine. What else can you do? You take your walk in the cold, blustery day and you notice the loons are on the lake. That’s spring. And you see that the fat robins have eaten every single berry on the tree since the last time you looked. That’s spring, isn’t it. And by the time you walk around the entire lake, and your thighs are numb with cold, you are entirely sick of trying to notice the simple things.
 
The subtle beauty is actually making you angry, because why does it have to be so hard.

Then you see something, a stalk of dead grass blowing in the cold gray air, waving to you, holding a beauty so understated that it makes you want to cry. And you walk past it, thinking, “no I won’t stop and acknowledge this. I want the gaudy in-your-face-ness of summer.” But it comes slowly. And the simple beauty is so touching that you retrace your steps to try to capture it in a photo.
 
Of course, the photo cannot capture what you see, what you feel – but it is there; you cannot unsee it. You must continue your day being grateful for the small things, because what else can you do. There is no forcing spring. It owes you nothing. You take what you can get.

I'm so honored to have been chosen to have a solo exhibition at The Phipps Center for the Arts! It is on display now in Gallery One through May 22, 2021.

If you visit my exhibition, please let me know what you think! Write a comment on the Facebook Event page, send me a message, or comment here.

A certain depth of blue, such as the rich blue of this velvet lining, is where my soul wishes to reside. You'll find me there, down in the depths.

Shown here is the green/blue 'In The Depths' color way. Hand-crafted with linen, cotton, and velvet fabrics.

Hey friends, I've started a new project! It's a series called 8x8x8 Faces. Each artwork is soft pastel, they are 8x8 inches square and take about 8 hours to complete.

If you'd like to participate in my new series, it's $100 per face and you provide the photo reference.

Need ideas?
Turn that senior photo into a work of art!
Send me a favorite photo of your child and I'll turn it into something to cherish!
Turn your boring business pic into something worth sharing.
Go here for 7 Tips: How to Choose a Reference Photo

If you'd like to keep up to date with this series of artwork, follow me on Facebook and Instagram @marypowdesigns

I keep them in my bathroom.

​For most of the summer there it is: a mason jar filled milkweed. Caterpillars in various stages of their life-cycle, munching away. I have them in my bathroom so I can shut the door - to keep them in - and the cats out. But the door usually gets left open.

I tend to count them whenever I go in the room. Has a new one hatched? Are they all here?

I discover one is missing, and a heaviness settles in my heart. I count and re-count. It's not there.

Several days later, I find a caterpillar on the stairs. Quite a long journey from the bathroom for such a small creature. I gently scoop it up and bring it back to the milkweed. When I set it on a leaf, it curls up. It doesn't move.

Starved to death.
​ 
My heart aches.

I could have done more to prevent this from happening.

Your White Fragility
by Mary Pow
 
Are you fragile –
Will you break?
An ooey gooey egg.
Ooze into a hole,
 
And hide away.
 
Or is it possible –
Perhaps I’m wrong?
Your fist raised high
You find you’re strong.
 
And you uncurl.
 
Your shell is cracked,
You stand up tall.
That precious shell,
The pieces fall.
 
Thank God, they fall.
 
Released from shame,
You say his name
“George Floyd”
Again, “George Floyd”
 
And you move forward.
 
Look at you –
You’re in the street.
That shell is crushed
Beneath your feet.
 
And your eyes open.
 
Silence does harm,
You see. You warn,
“I won’t stay silent.”
You are reborn.

My Art for Social Distancing project - Portrait of a Quarantine - is finished! Thank you to all of you who participated in my quarantine project by submitting photos of your experience during lockdown due to the Coronavirus.

During the past three months I completed 12 paintings for this project, and in the process raised over $600. Half of these funds went to the Emergency Relief Fund for Artists and the other half went to support my studio. I am so grateful for your support during this time.

Things have been challenging, but ​I hope my project spread a little bit of joy. 
Thank you! 

It's been my long-time dream to have a studio in the historic Northrup King Building. I didn't think it would ever happen. But, when the quarantine drastically prohibited me from working in my own crowded home, I realized the time had come to move...

I will be open to the public for Open Studio Saturdays every Saturday from 12-4pm, starting July 11th.
I'll have original art for sale (both textiles and pastel paintings), as well as note cards, prints, handbags, and more.