Wild Cherries, circa 1999-2001
It seems everyone’s buzzing about the 90s at the moment, and who can blame them? It was a fantastic time to be alive, partly due to the fact that our phones were still attached to the wall. We were unreachable and having a blast.
No Instagram. No Facebook. If you wanted people to know what you were up to, you had to find a way to engage and it wasn’t quick or easy. It was boots on the ground, hard-earned. Ads in magazines or newspapers, flyers and posters on street poles, that sort of thing.
I remember that if I had to transport paintings somewhere and there was a coffee shop nearby, I’d always take the path right past it. And I’d always carry the paintings facing out. A slightly ridiculous one-woman art parade, taking the long way. I laugh about it now, but it worked.
Sometimes people would stop me. They’d ask about the piece, where it was going, and once or twice they followed me and purchased something.
At that time, when it came to promoting my art, my most valuable asset was my mailing list—you know, the address book-kind. Every time someone showed interest in my work, their name and mailing address were handwritten into it. When I had an art show coming up, I sent full colour, printed invitations in the mail. It was personal. Real envelopes. Real stamps. Real connection. Later, email became a thing and suddenly I could reach people directly, quickly and it was all very “oooh, paperless”. Still, in those early days, it all felt personal.
Apparently there were rules about these things, but I didn’t know that at the time. I’ve since learned that certain corners of the art world believed artists shouldn’t promote themselves. The thinking was that you knew your place and waited quietly until the right institutions or gatekeepers decided you were worthy of attention.
I’m glad it never occurred to me that I was supposed to wait. I was a painter making art. As simple as that. I believed in my work. People liked it and wanted to see more of it, so I found ways to show them.
Looking back now, I realize the tools may have changed, but the fundamentals haven’t.
Make the work. Believe in it. Find ways for people see it.
And if that means walking the long way past a café with a painting facing outward… well, there are worse marketing strategies.
Love,
Laura. xo
P.S. If you know someone who’d like this, please send it their way. It helps more than you know. Think of it as the modern version of putting up a poster for me.
