Building an Art Career One Promise at a Time

This week I got an emergency commission.

It was the kind of opportunity you don’t say no to.

The problem was that Print Club was supposed to go out on the 20th.

For the first time, those two commitments collided.

I could have pushed Print Club back a few days. I don’t think anyone would have minded.

Instead, I chose to give up my day off.

Not because I had to.

Because I realized I was building something bigger than a monthly print.

It was a lesson in the business of art, something I’ve been working hard to improve because it’s vital to living my dream of being a full-time artist.

I started Print Club last October as a way to create a little stability in an otherwise unpredictable career. While most of my income comes from commissions and original paintings, I’ve always believed that art should be accessible to more people.

I grew up in a family that didn’t have much money, but my parents always found room for art. They filled our walls with paintings and prints and took us to museums because art filled them up.

I’ve never forgotten that.

In college I was the opposite.

People used to ask why I never hung my own work on my walls.

The truth was that my paintings were changing so quickly I rarely liked them long enough to live with them.

Eventually I started putting them up anyway.

Something unexpected happened.

I began to see my own work differently.

Stepping back let me appreciate the paintings instead of only seeing their flaws.

More importantly, they changed the feeling of my home.

There is warmth in walls filled with art.

There is personality in paintings.

There is love in a home that reflects the people who live there.

Everyone deserves to experience that.

That’s where Print Club really came from.

At first I called it Backstage Pass.

Every month centered around a different musician.

Ozzy Osbourne.

Woody Guthrie.

The stickers looked like backstage passes and every package had little surprises tucked inside.

It was fun.

But after a few months I realized I was spending more time worrying about who to paint than actually enjoying the work.

I felt trapped by my own idea.

So I asked my subscribers if they would mind if I changed direction.

The response surprised me.

Nobody cared about the format.

They cared about the connection.

That permission changed everything.

Print Club changed more than my business.

Print Club became the place where I found my voice. It became the place where I gave myself permission to experiment without worrying whether every painting fit neatly into a larger plan.

It gave me a reason to write again.

It led to this Studio Journal.

It led to my weekly newsletter.

It encouraged me to experiment more freely because I knew there would always be another month waiting for me.

Ironically, the thing I created to stabilize my business ended up transforming my creative practice.

Over time I started to realize that all of these seemingly different bodies of work were really asking the same questions.

The confessional paintings explored honesty and human connection.

The abstract cities explored how people build civilizations together.

The word portraits became paintings about legacy.

The flowers became paintings about memory.

Different subjects.

The same curiosity.

Print Club helped me see those connections.

Artistically, it has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Business-wise…

It’s still growing. And that’s ok, that’s part of my process of becoming the artist I want to be.

One thing Tawny pointed out recently is that people don’t just subscribe because they like the artwork.

They subscribe because they trust me.

Trust isn’t built by making beautiful things.

It’s built by doing what you said you were going to do.

That’s what this week taught me.

For the first time I had to balance a great commission opportunity with a promise I’d already made to the people supporting Print Club.

Those two responsibilities weren’t competing.

They were the same responsibility.

Creating work that people can rely on.

That realization changed something for me.

For a long time I thought building an art career meant making better paintings.

Lately I’m realizing it also means keeping promises.

Making the work.

Shipping the work.

Showing up month after month.

That’s less romantic than waiting for inspiration.

But I think it’s how trust is built.

And trust might be one of the most beautiful things an artist can create.