
Do you see how utterly deranged this cat looks while on the hunt? An artist on the desperate schmooze looks about the same.
Notice that I haven’t said anything yet about how to get your work shown. Well, that’s because Edward Winkleman (of Winkleman Gallery, godblessum) has already answered your question. He very generously takes everything that goes into finding a gallery and sums it up into five steps, which I quote below:
1.) Do some honest and serious thinking about where your artwork belongs in the art market.
2.) Do some serious research to find the program that best fits your artwork within that market.
3.) Don’t make mistakes that will discourage you.
4.) Work toward a short list.
5.) Once you have an “in,” so to speak, then let the gallery know you’re interested in having them consider your work.
This is the short version. The longer version, the one you’re going to go read right now, all the way down through the bottom of the comments thread, is here on edwardwinkleman.com.
And don’t forget that good manners never hurt anyone. When you get your gallery, be sure to send Edward a thank-you note.
I am a painter. I have had what I consider two successful solo shows in the region where I live. Some of this success is due to the highly saleable quality of my work. I’d like to do something different. My dealer is open, however I’m nervous about interrupting my momentum. How can I try out something new without alienating my supporters?
I don’t blame you for being nervous. You’ve taken the time to produce a body of work that has received attention and support, yet you want to create work that is different from your oeuvre. The question looms: if you take this left turn, will you undermine the hard work that you’ve already done?
Let’s turn this question around. What do you stand to lose if you don’t follow your lights? What opportunity might you miss? What artwork might the world never see? Do you think you will be satisfied in five, ten, or twenty years to look back on work that played it safe? All good art has been produced by taking some risks, whether they be emotional, physical, or financial. I think you owe it to yourself as an artist to explore the notions that are kicking around in your mind. There’s also the potential payoff elicited by the chain reaction that change puts into motion: risks require bravery, bravery builds character, and character makes good artwork. My friend Stephen always says, “If it doesn’t feel risky, you’re not doing it right.”

The Innocent Eye Test, Mark Tansey, 1981.
And while I’m quoting, I’d also like to share the words of a former boss, who once said to me “All change is difficult.” This is absolutely true whether the change is for the better or the worse. The difference here is that you already know what has worked for you in the past, so you have the ability to mitigate some of the risk and awkwardness that comes with change. You can be brave and still be pragmatic. Consider your options: could you continue your current body of work while making some of the new pieces on the side? Or perhaps you could go to a residency and immerse yourself in the new experiments for a month. If you don’t have access to such a program, can you create a week or two of uninterrupted studio time for yourself? It’s possible to try out the new work from where you are in your career and not suffer any adverse effects.
The fact that your dealer is open to the idea is a very good sign. If she has been in the biz for a while you should trust her instincts. While these new ideas may seem very different to you, I’m willing to bet that they are connected to your prior work in some way, either materially, formally, or conceptually. If the new body of work is good, your dealer can help you to frame your narrative and market the work in a way that emphasizes the natural progression from old to new. Let your dealer handle the public’s expectations and make the work that is calling out to you.