On Marketing . . .
It's true. People still like art, and there are those with money to buy it. I'll show you how you can find them, and allow them to buy your paintings. Then I'll show you how your collectors will work for you and by accumulating them how the power of numbers will propel you to where you want to go, to however far you want to take it.
Yes, you'll be asked to invest in yourself and in your talent. Brace yourself, I'm going to ask you to make some concessions to the marketplace. But I won't ask you to turn tricks. I'm not going to ask you to make flattering images of double-chinned matrons, nor to paint handsome, if slightly soiled, street urchins, sad clowns, breaking waves at sunset, or white poodles on black velvet.
On Painting . . .
Don't paint large pictures unless you are married to a carpenter, own shares in a frame company, and are paid by the square inch.
On How To Books . . .
Unless you've been taken hostage and are compelled to do so, never read books that tell you how to paint trees, barns, and furry animals.
On Money . . .
An artist who refuses to talk about money, won't make any.
On Fame . . .
"It's seems we ought to have heard of him," the matron at the opening said to her friend. "Everyone says he's famous."
On Visiting Museums . . .
If you look at enough good paintings long enough, you will learn to see. The condition is irreversible.
On Approaching Your Work . . .
Never paint sitting down. Stand in front of your canvas with legs apart, brush in hand, as though you were addressing something of great importance. When things are going smoothly, sit down. Then stand up to find out where you went wrong.
