Finding My Place in the Art Fair World (May Reflections)
Share
It’s May.
At this point, I have one more application left to submit for 2026, and I’m waiting to hear back from the final shows I applied to this year. Like every season, I’ve received my share of rejections—and they force me to stop and ask a hard question:
Am I applying to the right shows… or even the right market?
When I look honestly at my work, I know what it is—and what it isn’t.
My work is quiet.
It takes a moment.
It asks the viewer to slow down.
And if I’m being completely honest with myself, that creates a challenge:
- It’s not loud enough for many art fairs
- It’s not always direct enough for galleries
Most people at art fairs are drawn to work that is immediate—something they understand in seconds. That’s not how I work. And I don’t think it ever will be.
I was reminded of this recently when I lost a significant sale. The collector connected deeply with A Clear Ripple—she understood exactly the mental and emotional space I was in when I created it. That connection mattered. But it also reinforced something I already knew:
I shouldn’t have to explain my work for it to resonate.
The Reality of Applying
Every year, I divide shows into different categories.
The top-tier shows I continue to pursue, knowing rejection is likely:
- Winter Park
- Main Street Fort Worth
- Artisphere
- Old Town
- Des Moines
- Cherry Creek
- St. Louis
These are the shows where, if accepted, the opportunity is real—but so is the competition.
Then there are the shows where I feel I have a stronger chance:
- Boca Museum
- Coconut Grove
- Naples National
- Gasparilla
- Brookside
- Atlanta Dogwood
- Four Bridges
- Art on the Square
- 57th Street Art Fair
- Columbus
- Lakefront
- Boston Mills
- Madison
- Ann Arbor
- Woodland (Lexington)
- La Plaza
And then there’s another category—shows that can work for me personally, but I wouldn’t recommend to others. They’re unpredictable, high-risk, and depend heavily on the right buyer showing up.
Finally, there are shows I simply won’t do.
Not because of money.
Because of respect.
At some point, who you work with matters just as much as what you sell. There’s no guaranteed income in this business, so putting yourself in a bad environment is never worth it.
Staying True vs. Selling
This is the real tension.
I’m trying to understand where my work fits—but I also know this:
If I start creating work just to sell, it stops being my work.
That’s not a line I’m willing to cross.
So the goal isn’t to change the work.
It’s to find the right environment for it.
What Rejection Actually Means
Rejection is not a signal to stop.
It’s part of the process.
The truth is, the “big shows” don’t automatically mean better results. In fact, I’ve learned that sometimes:
- A smaller show
- With less traffic
- Where people have time to slow down
…can be a better environment for my work than a packed, high-energy event.
My work needs space.
It needs time.
It needs the right viewer.
A Shift in Strategy
Right now, my focus is changing.
Because of family responsibilities—especially helping care for my mom—I need to stay closer to home from April through December. After spending winters in Florida, this means I need to rethink how I approach the rest of the year.
Instead of chasing only the biggest shows, I need to:
- Find regional shows that allow me to stay closer
- Identify events where collectors actually engage with quieter work
- Be selective, even if it means fewer applications
The challenge with smaller shows is real:
You often encounter emerging artists who underprice their work, which can shift buyer expectations and create pressure.
But that’s part of the landscape—and something I have to navigate without compromising what I do.
Where This Leaves Me
Right now, I’m in a place of evaluation.
Not changing who I am.
Not chasing trends.
But refining where I show.
Because in the end, success for me isn’t just about getting into the biggest show.
It’s about finding the right audience—
the one willing to stop, look, and feel something.