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This letter has been in the works for five months. It has taken me time to reflect on this topic. I have so many stories about the people I’ve met and memories I’ve made as a working artist selling my work. I could talk about all of them, but I don’t have enough time! It’s very hard to narrow down which moments to highlight, but I suppose I can also write more reflective letters on this subject in the future as I collect more!
My very first sale (not counting a few pet portraits and small commissions in the very beginning) was a 36”x36” painting that sold for $200.
Today, I sell that same 3-foot-square size for roughly $2,000. (I don’t base my prices on the time I spend or my feelings about a piece; it’s strictly based on size per square inch ...and if it's professionally framed/resined/etc.)
During that period of growth, each sale felt like more than just a transaction—it was a lesson in confidence, in trusting my work, and in understanding what resonates with collectors. I learned that every painting finds its audience in its own time, and that early successes build the foundation for both my pricing and my belief in myself as a full-time artist.
In 2024, I sold 41 paintings, from very small to very large. I raised my price point back in March, and this year, I have sold 25 paintings. Not as many as last year, but each sale carries more weight. I believe raising prices isn’t about selling less; it’s about valuing my work and attracting collectors who truly connect with it.
When writing this, I’ve simmered on how—for most other industries—a conversation about sales might be less taboo. I sometimes feel like artists selling artwork is supposed to carry an invisible, magical layer where it just somehow “just happens!” And that artists shouldn’t speak about sales, as it might take away from that mystic, crypticness.
There’s this quote I read from my Art & Fear book that I like: “When bankers get together, they talk about art. When artists get together, they talk about money.”
This idea exposes the truth that making art is also a job. Artists think constantly about pricing, selling, sustaining themselves—things that aren’t often romanticized. Talking openly about money sometimes feels taboo, but it’s a reality that shapes every career. It also highlights that talking about art holds cultural weight even outside the art world. People whose daily lives are all about finance still want to escape into creativity.
Someone once asked me (I’ll spare the name): “Don’t you need to pawn off your paintings and get into their pockets to score some money?” The question stung. It dismissed the fact that I am an entrepreneur, just like anyone else running a business. Because selling is not optional—it’s how I sustain my art practice full-time. It also pushes the dumb old trope of the starving artist, desperately begging on thier knees for a sale.
But here’s the thing: selling my work doesn’t feel desperate. It feels necessary, and even joyful.
But there’s also another side I think about. My work isn’t just a product. It comes from me—my head, emotions, feelings, and materials. That part feels magical. And since I’m a fan of magical thinking, maybe the mystery around sales has a point.
I’m fascinated by the cultural hush around talking openly about sales (how much, what place, how did you meet that person...etc) in the art world. It feels like there’s a forcefield of silence around what a sale really looks and feels like—for both artist and collector.
I realize that magic and commerce don’t cancel each other out. In fact, the act of selling, sharing, and connecting with collectors might be one of the most mysterious and rewarding parts of being an artist.
I’ve been selling my art for six years. I’ve sold through boutiques, breweries, sandwich shops, galleries, markets, fairs, homes, Instagram DMs, restaurants, coffee shops, and, lastly, my website. What started off as me selling a $20 digital drawing of a friend has developed to as much as a large $6000 painting sold. And I’ve been lucky to see, talk to, and stay in touch with many of the collectors who have purchased my work.
Sometimes, it has taken three years for a painting to sell. Other times, they are quickly collected in a matter of days. Obviously, the latter is amazing and a major picker-upper for an independent artist. However, the longer I get to spend with the painting in close quarters, the more I get to know it. The more it might offer a bounce board of ideas for future paintings to come.
A common question I’ve always received is: “Who is your audience? What age group primarily buys your paintings? Is it mainly a woman or a man?” I think there is a natural curiosity there, and there should be for any artist, as the answer is not cut and dry.
My answer: there is no true definition or mold for a collector of mine. Old and young men, middle-aged couples, young and old women, people that look like me, people that don’t look like me, people out West, people up North, grandparents, 20-somethings.
Aside from the variations, I think my collectors do have one thing in common: they do not shy away from color, figurative work, and more contemporary compositions. But, when I’ve had the chance to meet the collector and talk with them, they often say it’s something more personal that has drawn them to that painting. Somehow, it makes sense in their reality and in their timeline.
I thought it might be interesting to reflect on my audience. Being the nosy girl that I am, I thought it would be fun to share who is buying my work—and the stories that coincide when someone decides to collect an artist’s painting.
Hannah: The Naughty Hand
Let’s start with a surprising sale. I’ve always had trouble painting hands—I never went to art school or took formal classes.
(Side note: for the past five months, I’ve made it my mission to get better, and I have. No more avoiding my fear of hands.)
So, it’s ___, and I was painting a girl in pajamas on a cool circular rug. Everything was going well, until the HAND. I remember muttering “fuck,” putting down my brush, and calling it a day. I posted a process picture on Instagram, thinking nothing of it. Just a little humor another artist might relate to. Suddenly, I got a surprising DM from an interested buyer out in Nashville named Hannah!
I was confused. Do you want the hand to stay as is? The answer was yes. So, the painting stayed as is—curse word and all. And honestly, I love that. It never even got a chance to have a title.
Looking back, making a sale on an unfinished painting is not something I can see myself doing now. I was a bit more raw and real on my Instagram back then. I was also just learning everything about painting and the business of being an artist.
On the same note, the fact that Hannah liked the painting as is is a testament that perfection is not vital for a painting to be considered worthy or important.
Tamsen: Story of the Moth and the Girl Commission
This painting was a game-changer for me. Every time I see it, I think of my Aunt Tamsen, who commissioned me to do it for her daughter, Madison. All she said was: Madison’s favorite color is yellow.
In the process of creating this painting, I made an Instagram reel that now has 97.9 thousand likes and 779k views. I gained 17 thousand new followers because of it. With that increase in audience and visibility, my online print sales skyrocketed! I also had a small “I made it” moment.
Caution: followers and likes don’t equal being a good artist. Mixing those two together can be dangerous, which I’ve had to navigate.
Back to the story: I am so grateful to see how much this painting—and Aunt Tamsen—directly contributed to my career: a magazine cover and three-page story, a larger audience, increased website traffic, and credibility for my brand and artistry.
(Aunt Tamsen is my lovely aunt who is hosting my art show in 16 DAYS!!!)
Tom: Marsh Girl
I first met Tom, a collector who’s now bought five of my paintings, at a pop-up market in Wilmington. He kept running into me at more markets and would always go for the paintings instead of the prints—which, if you’ve ever done pop-up markets, is rare. Ninety percent of my sales usually came from prints.
Naturally, I would get excited if I saw him from a distance—excited to greet him as he came under my tent!
Besides the confidence that comes from the sheer amount of work he has collected over the past five years, Tom has taught me something else. I now know that unstretched, unframed canvas is not only fun for an artist to paint on, but it can also sell.
Tom purchased Marsh Girl, my first large unstretched canvas to ever sell. I poked two holes in it and strung it along a metal flagpole at a market in the Cargo District. (I don’t think I would poke any more holes in my work.)
Marsh Girl, in her lovely frame!
From Marsh Girl to his most recent painting, Cradle the Moon, Tom has collected work from all of my chapters and phases.
The rest of Tom's GERB collection
Aimee: Where Birds Fly
Back in 2022, I worked on a commission for a beautiful, kind-hearted woman in Charlotte named Aimee. She told me she wanted a 36x48 and sent me a few photos of the room the painting could exist in—full of lively colors and patterns. She left the window open for interpretation. I love having that kind of freedom with commissions; however, to be honest, it can also scare me. But we must paint on!
When I arrived at her house and turned the finished painting around in her foyer, we shared a very intimate moment. I could immediately tell she loved it (my nerves dwindled!). Aimee told me how she had just relocated from Colorado to North Carolina. The transition carried weight as she was readjusting to a different lifestyle and landscape.
The painting, titled Where Birds Fly, hit a nerve deep down. When I saw her cry, I started to cry. I had no idea when I painted the mountains in the background that she had lived in Colorado! She explained how the entire essence of the painting felt true to what she was currently experiencing. I was so happy.
I belive this was only my second commission ever. I gained confidence and felt ready for another opportunity. Moments like this remind me that nothing beats the feeling of really “getting it” for a client.
Billy Cone
In 2023, I had around 15 paintings hanging in an art bar, Bottega Art & Wine. The owner, Addie, texted me: “Come down here, Billy Cone is in! He’s interested in your newest painting.”
I didn’t know it at the time, but the Cone sisters are a big deal! Billy Cone is the grand-nephew of Etta and Claribel Cone, who gifted the Baltimore Museum of Art with the greatest modern art collection in America. Billy himself is an established artist and photographer.
So, I packed up the painting of interest, which I had literally just finished (Honeydew), and raced down there in my Mazda. Addie, Billy, and I talked on the back patio over a glass of wine about his new book/art launch. Then suddenly, he said: “Yes, I’m going to take these three.”
Billy collected not one, but three paintings of mine that day.
Me and Billy with "The Sisters" and "Honeydew"
I had never sold three paintings in one day to one person. Billy Cone is a renowned collector who has work from the big guys! I left Bottega that day feeling on top of the world—like maybe I was doing something right.
I also learned that interested buyers are always looking at Instagram and watching what artists are currently producing. If I had never posted that process picture of Honeydew, maybe I would have never met Billy at all.
Left, "In December," the third painting to sell that day. Right, "Honeydew" resting against the fence in Bottega.
Rhea: One of My Biggest Supporters
Rhea is a very sweet and bubbly woman and has been a collector of mine for a few years! Like Tom, she has collected two unstretched, unframed canvases—one at a pop-up market and one in a coffee shop. What’s special about Rhea, from an artist’s perspective, is that she comes to almost every show I have in Wilmington, so I get to see her often. We also have these serendipitous run-ins around town, which always feel like little gifts.
"Disco Queen" - a painting done on loose, unframed canvas that Rhea collected in 2023 from 24 South Coffee
June of last year, she bought The Fairytale, a huge 48x48 acrylic and resin painting on wood that weighs around 40 pounds—from my opening night at True Blue Butcher & Barell! Jack and I delivered it and hung it in her home.
I’ve never seen someone so passionate about collecting art. She mentioned she had been downsizing her space, so she had to downsize her collection too. For her to choose a very large painting simply because “she just had to have it” meant so much to me.
Her home is filled with art—it was clear that she is a true lover of it. Walking through her space felt like visiting a museum; there was so much to see and admire. I know Rhea is probably a special person in many other local and national artists' lives. Rhea, if you are reading, thank you for collecting my art all these years.
Steve: Sky Yellow, Sun Blue Commission
Steve is an insanely creative, Grateful Dead-loving man who has been working on an incredible book project, Sky Yellow / Sun Blue: The Art of 'Scarlet Begonias' and the Ecstatic Vision of the Grateful Dead. This has been a 20-year project in the making. He’s commissioned writers, painters, essayists, historians, musicians—the list goes on.
The details if you are interested.
Steve commissioned me for two paintings, both of which are featured in this book and now hang in his house (release date coming soon!). He even exhibited one of the paintings in NOLA this past spring!
The second painting Steve commissioned me for "Sky Yellow, Sun Blue"
These commissions were a really big deal to me (being published in a book is an amazing opportunity). They gave me the opportunity to understand the depth a project can go to—and the time it can take to unfold at its greatest strength. Twenty years is a long, dedicated timeline for a single project. I’ve taken notice of that effort—especially in the quick, speedy culture we live in now. I hope to one day work on a sole project for that long.
Since that first commission, Steve and I have kept in touch. Jack and I went to his house for the Super Bowl, Steve interviewed me for another section of the book, and he even offered up his driveway in case Wrightsville Beach parking gets crazy. Steve is an awesome guy.
Jamie Pressly: Woman in Winter
I talked about how Jamie Pressly bought a painting a few letters back, but I’ll re-hash it because I still think it’s pretty cool that a famous person has one of my originals hanging in her own home.
Back in 2022, I was exhibiting at an art event, hosted by True Blue Butcher and Barrel (fast forward to 2024, when I was permanently given the restaurant walls for my work to live on!).
Another artist came over and whispered, “I think there’s supposed to be a famous person coming tonight.”
I’d heard celebrities are often in Wilmington because of the film industry, but I didn’t think much of it.
A few hours went by. Then a beautiful blonde woman in her forties approached my table and told me she had her eye on Woman in Winter. She walked around the other tables before circling back to me.
“I'm back!"
We got to talking, and then she asked, "Do you not know who I am?”
I don't know why, but it didn’t occur to me that she was the famous person.
“You're too young... you need to look me up on IMDb,” she said in a humorous, sassy tone. It turns out, she was Jamie Pressly!
I’d never seen My Name Is Earl, but a few years later I watched Joe Dirt and thought, no way—that’s the woman who bought my painting!
There's me with Miss. Jamie!
Anyway, I felt bad that I didn’t recognize her right away. We laughed about it (I think :p).
Here's Jamie in the movie, Joe Dirt.
She ended up purchasing the painting and even gave me a shoutout on her Instagram, which was very kind. Jamie took it with her that night and told me it would hang in her bedroom. I was really excited! I didn’t quite know who she was, but the idea of a famous person purchasing my painting was really something.
My Parents: My Day 1 Supporters
I am lucky that my being an artist is supported by my parents. I can't pay homage to collectors and memories of sales, without mentioning them. My mom and dad have cheered me on since the very beginning when I was 3 and could pick up Crayons.
I called my dad last October and explained how worried I was about being a full-time artist. I was in-debt, painting in fear, and not sure what I was doing it all for.
He told me a story about how he had a similar experience when starting his business—how he built his company from nothing but a few ceramic plates and a landline phone. He had a family to care for and was making no money, betting on himself. He said he had to take the risk because he knew he didn’t want to be a travelling salesman forever. He set his mind to his new dream of being a business owner. I never knew the beginning of his own journey was that rocky for him. I always thought it was a success from the get-go. That phone call was the most reassuring moment in my art career thus far.
My parents have bought several of my paintings (I give them the family discount ;P). I realize how lucky I am to have them in support of me and my art. They say I’m their favorite artist… maybe that’s the truth! Regardless, I know they genuinely want me to succeed in whatever it is that I do, and that’s something that should never be taken for granted.
Two of the paintings my parents hang in thier home, "Sisters" and "Blue Eyes".
They don’t believe or poke fun at the “starving artist” trope, even when I am that 75% of the time. I think their belief in me is what’s kept me here, painting and pursuing my dream. Still, I know I have to keep believing in myself—because if I don’t, no one else will.
My family, at my highschool graduation :)
I could go on forever about the people who have supported my dreams as an artist and collected my work—my grad school friends, high school friends, strangers at fairs, family members, gallery shoppers, neighbors, Instagrammers. Each sale has its own story, and each story has shaped the way I think about my art and myself.
When I started this letter, I was thinking about how strange it is that talking about art sales often feels taboo, as if peeling back the curtain ruins the magic. But looking back at these stories, I don’t think the magic goes away at all. If anything, it deepens. Because the “mystical” part isn’t that paintings sell—it’s that they find their people, often in the most surprising, serendipitous ways.
So maybe sales don’t take away from the mystery. Maybe they are part of it :)
While I have you here, I wanted to remind you that I'm having a show in Charlotte, NC on September 20th! If you don't live in Charlotte, but know someone who might like to come see my newest series, it would mean a lot if you could send them to the letter below :)
Website Update! I’ve updated the way I sell my work on my website (yes, again!). All available originals are now listed for easy browsing—just add to your cart and you’re all set. If you have any questions about purchasing, shipping, or anything else, please don’t hesitate to reach out—I’m happy to help!
A heads-up: the remaining pieces from my The Race to Grow Up exhibition won’t be listed online until after the debut show in Charlotte.
Some of my thoughts and newsletters are shared only with subscribers, making them extra special and exclusive. So be sure to subscribe so you can read all the letters :)
