“That’s great! But… how did you get my number again?”
This remark was uttered to me over the phone by a politely pleased but obviously baffled woman who would, in short order, become first my landlord and neighbor, then my close friend.
She was pleased because I was interested in the apartments she had available to rent in her building, and I must have seemed relatively sane (i.e., safe) over the phone.
She was baffled because she had not yet advertised the apartments, and she knew neither me nor the person who had given me her phone number.
Still, within days of that phone call I had seen the place and within weeks I had signed the lease. My first apartment in Brooklyn, in a great building in a great neighborhood, acquired in a relatively painless manner! As I mentioned last month, I am an incredibly lucky individual.
But my purpose here is not to boast about my good fortune. What’s more important is how I actually did get that phone number, and what that has to do with the business of being an artist.
In telling this story, I feel a bit like the character in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off who explains to her homeroom teacher her ninth-hand knowledge of Ferris Bueller’s grave illness: “My best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who’s going with a girl who saw Ferris pass-out at 31 Flavors last night.”
In my case, there were only two people between me and my future neighbor. She mentioned to a personal friend that she had two apartments coming available in her building. That friend came to my graduate school as a visiting artist, and mentioned this to one of my classmates who was apartment-hunting in Brooklyn. It was not a good fit for him, but he asked me if I was interested. Emails were sent. And that’s how I got the number, and the apartment.
Last month I promised to suggest where you might find help in strengthening the business end of your art career. There are indeed many inanimate resources that can aid you in this endeavor, some of which I will address in future columns.
First, though, I think it’s important not to underestimate the human resources who are all around you. A mentor of mine, herself an absolute evangelist for business-savvy artist-hood, likes to remind her professional development proteges that the art world is built on relationships between individuals.
Breaking down the complex and intimidating art world in this way is incredibly comforting. Suddenly it seems easier to send your slides to a gallery when you remember that a real human being will be opening that envelope.
But remember — the “art world” is not made up just of the people opening the envelopes. It also includes the countless other artists sending in envelopes just like yours. And though they may be your competition in this one instance, it’s important to understand that they are also your community.
Living in New York, I am automatically part of a quite large artist community. I got my MFA in the metro area, so many of my fellow students are here. In the building where I rent studio space, there are at least 100 working artists. These ready-made communities have been a rich source of support, inspiration, and information for me.
If you don’t have such easy access to other artists where you live, don’t lose heart. You can still benefit from creating your own community. It doesn’t have to be huge to be meaningful. Start by getting to know the guy who hangs photographs in your favorite restaurant, or the woman who teaches art at your local high school. Reconnect with the kid who had the easel next to yours in your sophomore painting class in college. Meet new people at art openings and cultural events in your town or region.
Better yet, go virtual. The internet has amazing resources for connecting people with shared interests and goals. Join a group, or start your own, on Google Groups or Yahoo Groups. Post images of your work on Flickr or MySpace and make friends. There are dozens of social networking, blogging, and interest-sharing sites designed to help build communities across geographical borders.
You can never predict how, once built, these relationships with other artists will enhance your career and your life. Sometimes, it can be as simple as knowing that there are others out there who relate to your trials and your triumphs. Many people exchange direct feedback or critique each other’s artwork. Others meet in small groups similar to book clubs. Much can happen on a less formal level too. Someone comes across an opportunity that suits your work better than theirs, so they pass it on to you. That opportunity could take the form of an available studio space, a grant application, a call for entries to a juried show, a great class you might find interesting, a personal connection with a curator or collector, or an as-yet-undiscovered gallery looking for new artists — the possibilities are endless. And especially in these days of email, word of mouth is incredibly powerful — but you have to at least be within (virtual) shouting distance to take advantage of it!
Networking is a very scary idea for many people, myself included. But if you constantly keep in mind that a network is really a community of individuals relating with other individuals, it becomes easier. It also helps to remember that you don’t have to be best friends with every other artist you know. Some of the best leads I’ve gotten on exhibition or job opportunities have come from people I am not close to personally but with whom I share a mutual respect.
It isn’t just about collecting peers and colleagues like the notches on the proverbial bedpost, however. Nobody wants to be used in that way. You’ll get the most of both the tangible and intangible benefits of being a member of a community if you contribute to it yourself. Maybe you don’t have a line on a hot exhibition opportunity or the perfect job, but that show you just saw might be really interesting to someone else you know, and your station wagon could be just the right size to transport your friend’s paintings across town. People will appreciate your good-faith efforts to share information, ideas, energy, and time — and they’ll return the favor.
Finally, don’t forget to say THANK YOU. Send a thank-you note not only to the curator who visited your studio, but also to the person who introduced you. Buy a cup of coffee for the friend who helped you hash out a difficult issue in your work. Take every opportunity to acknowledge those who have helped you in both big and small ways.
And never, ever forget the person who gave you that magic phone number!
NEXT TIME — Possibly the heaviest magazine you will ever buy, and other concrete sources of information.
