One Saturday morning, six months ago, I went out for coffee with my partner along a strip of shops and boutiques in the Columbia, South Carolina area. The frigid January air bit against my skin, much too used to clear Florida skies. I was definitely warm blooded. We stopped inside a shop for me to buy my very first actually warm, pink puffer jacket. Wow. Sometimes, I still felt like a tourist, having just arrived earlier that year. In fact, I had moved here, hundreds of miles from friends and family, specifically for my job. I had no idea that in just a number of months, I would be quitting on the spot, rebranding my art business, and setting out to figure out this one elusive idea: my target audience.
I remember leaving that store, unable to stop the tears that unexpectedly came to my face. I told my partner I needed to change my life. I couldn’t go through the motions anymore. We created a plan, but certain events unfolded, and long story short, my life was uprooted much sooner than later. Anyway, that’s the preamble. I left my corporate life and never looked back. In front of me was the ambiguous, mystical landscape of entrepreneurship. More specifically, making it as an artist. A professional, working artist. But how would I get there? How exactly would I “make it?” Succeeding as an artist felt like my only option. I put everything on the line for it. To this day, quitting my job for my art career is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken. And I’m not a risk taker. I’ve always considered myself a cautious person. So when I had to take a bet on myself, I did so in the most calculated way possible: I went down a research rabbit hole.
You Need A Target Audience. At first, I believed it. For six months I started building up my brand, and searching for that target audience. But something didn’t sit right with me about it. I felt like the more I tried to box myself in, the less authentic I became, and the worse result that came from my work. I wasn’t satisfied with what I was creating, and I started to feel more like a scientist, trying to find the right pieces for the equation to work, than an artist. It was like the soul was slowly draining away. And I remember asking myself: Is this the price? Do I need to sacrifice the soul of my work for something that will bring in sales? After all, all the marketing experts repeated these things: You need a target audience Your client is the hero, not you Don’t talk about yourself or your product You sell products by solving a problem
How do I market to “serve” them, and solve their problem, think only of them, as all these marketing experts say I need to in order to succeed? They say people don’t go to the store to buy a drill, they buy a hole in the wall. They buy the transformation at the end of the line, they don’t buy your product. But here’s the kicker. And this is why marketing artwork always felt so elusive to me. Marketing fine art is not the same as marketing a product because fine art does not have a target audience. I’ll say it again. Fine art does not have a target audience. Stay with me. You see, fine art is not truly a product. A product is a solution. A product is interchangeable with competition. Fine art is one of a kind, fine art has no competition. It’s unique. It stands alone. You could argue that fine art’s competition is all the other fine art out there, but not really. Not to the right person. If you asked me if I wanted to eat at restaurant A or B, I could be persuaded one way or another. Chicken tenders is fine, hamburgers are okay too. Either way, I get my needs met.
Businesses start at the audience, start with their problem, and work backwards to solve it. As an artist, you start within, translate the world, and make yourself visible enough to attract. Businesses chase. Artists attract. So yes, you do talk about yourself, your life, because your life holds meaning for your audience. Talking about your story is how you attract. The concept of a target audience is tricky because with a product, you can easily translate across groups of similar interests. You know that when you release a T Shirt that says “Team Edward” on it, 10 Twilight fans who support Edward are going to want it. But with fine art, you are either understood by the soul or you’re not. Out of those 10 Twilight fans, two might love your artwork. Maybe a computer science engineer loves it too. Or the mayor, or your third grade teacher.
And in life, we don’t have room for what doesn’t serve us. My argument is that for fine art, a target audience doesn’t exist. The artist doesn’t go find their audience and make work specifically for them. The artist translates the world just for the sake of doing it, and the people of the world, always in search of meaning, stumble across the artwork, are moved by its meaning, and start following the artist around. As an artist, you do not chase, you attract. Your job as an artist is to translate the world as honestly as you can, tell your story, perhaps as loudly as you can. Be visible. Be open with your work. We can’t predict the exact criteria of a person whose soul will resonate with the work that we do. We can only share our truth. Start conversations, create connections. As humans, we’re constantly searching for just a little glimpse of anything that makes the world just a little more sensible to us. So set up a tent, put up the light, and allow the moth to come to the flame.
1 Comment
Kim
10/30/2024 06:33:46 pm
And what target audience? Isn’t my audience just anyone who likes art? Anyone who looks at it and goes, “I love that?”
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