Insights from my first solo exhibition

Is it worth the effort to show your art in physical spaces?

At the beginning of February, I had my very first solo exhibition. Might sound strange, considering I’ve run an art business for around 4 years now, and have sold my art and prints to people all over the world. But I hadn’t actually shown my art anywhere, physically.

Why? I blame my shyness and laziness, plus the lack of instruction manual for how to actually make these exhibitions happen. Galleries are shutting down left and right, and the remaining few places where art exhibitions could be arranged seem to go out of their way to keep themselves a secret. Local art walks, group exhibitions, markets, et.c. all seem to be organized via dilapitated Facebook pages or… I dunno, secret meetups? Smoke signals? Owl couriers?

Anyways, I eventually got the perfect opportunity for a solo exhibition in the community center of the town where much of my family now lives and I frequently visit. It’s two hours away from where I live.

For this exhibition, which I booked over 6 months ago, I decided to paint a themed collection of watercolors. And I had the perfect theme in mind. As you might know, I mainly paint birds. And my very favorite type of birds are corvids: crows, ravens, magpies, jackdaws, rooks, jays, et.c. I’m drawn to their low-key, monochromatic beauty, their intelligence, their social structure, their personalities, their language, their mythology, everything really. They’re my feathered soul mates and my heart soars each time I see one. I had drawn and painted corvids before of course, but never dedicated an entire watercolor painting collection to them. Now, the time had come! Here was my chance to elevate these overlooked and underappreciated birds, and make others see what I see in them.

I painted throughout December and January for the exhibition that would run from January 31st to February 14th. I managed to get a journalist of the local newspaper to interview me and write about the exhibition. A feature that, for some reason, ended up on the front page. 😆 (Guess not much else exciting was happening in town that particular week. Lucky me!)

On the morning of the day before the exhibition, when I was to drive there with the paintings and hang them, I was so nauseous I sat doubled over on the floor, panting. I barely made it there. I wasn’t conciously nervous about the exhibition, but my body clearly was. Funny how that works.

On the opening of the exhibition, I was surrounded by family, some of whom had traveled there to surprise me. And I was delighted by the amount of interest among the locals. Turns out, I’m far from alone in my love and fascination for corvids. 🖤 Many wanted to tell me their stories and relationships to these birds. I, who normally get extremely drained by all forms of social interaction, found myself energized and exhilarated.

When you've previously only shared your art with others via small screens, and gotten used to getting maybe a few likes on them, a comment if you’re lucky… it's a luxury having total strangers stand in front your paintings, discussing them. It felt almost surreal.

I even sold two of my largest paintings on the spot, something I hadn’t expected, and feel so grateful for.

Doing this exhibition was an experiment for me. Something I wanted to try at least once, but had no idea what to expect from. Would it be worth the trouble and the costs? Would I enjoy it? Would I make any sales? Or is this type of marketing outdated and inefficient?

I’m pleased to have had that last fear disproved. Even though this was a small exhibition (only 15 paintings), in a small space also serving as a café, with very awkward opening hours - it was still more than worth it. It was a reminder of how art is meant to be shared and experienced. Not as “content” for the distracted masses, but as artifacts of love and intention, displayed in a dignified way and viewed in a physical space.

Sharing my art in this way made me appreciate my own art more. I could see it from the perspective of “regular people”, and not in constant competition with everyone and everything online.

I’m not saying physical exhibitions are always worth the effort - they likely aren’t. Or that sharing and experiencing art digitally has no value - of course it has. But in an age where so much happens online by default, it’s easy to forget about the value and rewards of showing up in the physical world, experiencing it with all of our senses. Yes, it takes effort. But I think it more than makes up for that in quality of interactions.

I won’t stop sharing my art online any time soon, but I also can't wait to find more opportunities to exhibit my art out in the real world, with likeminded people. In my experience, five passionate visitors to an exhibition is worth more than a hundred thousand views on Instagram.