Let's Talk Digital (Patreon)

As I said a bit ago, I got a new Surface and have resumed my self-education on digital art. Some of this is actual art training ("how do I use this tool?"). But at least half of it is understanding a context for digital art, in my life and in a broader social framework. And, as usual, I'd like to expose some of that thinking for you so you know what goes on in the brain of an artist working in professional spaces.

So, first. The angel, which you've seen glimpses of. I've included the workspace in this photo because I'd like you to see the stacked layers (most of which are labeled). One of the things I see as both a strength and a weakness of digital art is this ability to separate a piece into discrete bits that can be fixed separately if you mess them up. That's good, because messing up one bit doesn't ruin the whole piece (rueful memories here of tossing partially completed paintings because of single errors I couldn't fix). That's also bad, because it can lead to a neuroticism on the artist's part: how many things can you mess up in a painting? LET'S MAKE SURE NONE OF THEM GET MESSED UP! Cue a billion layers. RIGHT EYE. RIGHT EYELASH. RIGHT PUPIL, OUTLINE. RIGHT EYE IRIS COLOR. Etc, etc.

I can already see myself trending this way because it's such a relief not to have to worry about mistakes. Only when I make a billion layers and realize how difficult it is to remember what's on which layer do I notice I've made more work for myself.

Which brings me to time. I know that learning a new medium takes time, and your first pieces take longer than your more practiced ones. But I know, to the hour, how long my average paintings take. (10-30 hours, depending on size). I've already spent 4 hours on this angel picture and it's nowhere near done. I can't help but wonder how many hours I'm going to sock into it before the end, and part of me kind of wants to stop now. Because this piece doesn't exist in an art vacuum: it's a part of me, my life, and my professional context.

That brings us to the business stuff. And the most important question there is: what do I do with this piece once it's done? Sell prints? I can tell you how many prints I've sold in the last year. I don't even need one hand to show you. Prints don't sell online. They might sell in person, if you can look your customers in the eyes, but online? Doesn't work for me (and for many of the artists I talk to).

Merchandise? Okay, sure. I could make some angel mugs and angel mousepads and angel notebooks. My margin on those is about 30 cents to $1.50 a unit, unless I want to manufacture and ship them myself. (I don't. I have neither the space nor the time to hand-sell and ship merchandise.)

The real money in art, for me, has always been in original sales. Most of my originals are pricey, which is fine. I don't expect them to sell often. But one $1500 sale pays a LOT of bills. It takes a lot of 30 cent sales to come near that.

Uniqueness drives prices up. This is Business 101 stuff. And paintings on paper that artists have touched, shed their skin oils all over, accidentally painted their coffee into, have petted and built up--paintings that smell when you put your nose at their edges, that have a texture when you dare touch the paint, that are ephemeral and precious--that's worth money. A print dumped into the tray of a giclee printer isn't.

Needless to say, digital art does not produce that brand of uniqueness, so you can't price it that way. The primary way it does produce uniqueness, though, is through commissions...and that's why you find so many amazing digital artists doing them. Digital art makes commissioning painless. You don't have to ship anything. Your client gets a file and they can do the printing themselves. If your client has changes, making them is easy (see: billion layers) and a lot faster than if you had to go in and munge an oil painting to fix it. As long as your client isn't seeking a double-uniqueness (a commissioned piece that's also an original), you're both golden. It's a fantastic set-up for this kind of money-making. If I was only a commission-based artist, I'd totally have converted to digital-only (if I hadn't wanted to aim for the twice-premium market of commissioners who want unique physical objects.)

But, as you know Bob, I don't have time to do commissions, nor do I often have the inclination. So that's right out for me. Also out for me: web comics, which are another great use case for digital art. Because it's my observation that it's very hard to make money at web comics, and you have to be devoted to it to try. I'm not. I'd rather write novels, which I know make money, and which let me tell more stories in less time. (Which I'm sure most of you are grateful for!)

One of the most important things about this process, then, is me figuring out how digital art fits into my business model. Because I love art and writing, but I also love eating, and I want to find a good compromise between "I'm enjoying myself" and "I'm not fretting because I made $10 this month and a single meal for Jaguar and Child at Chic-Fil-A is $11."

If I don't have time for commissions, then I need to be aware that spending 20+ hours on a piece of digital art is not a great idea unless it meets some other need. Like, say, a book cover for a novel (which would save me the cost of commissioning an artist), or interior illustrations for books (if I make sure I don't spend forever on them), or things to feed Patreon patrons with (yes: you all make me enough money to sometimes make longer digital works a good investment, if you all want them. I would have to run numbers).

So these are the thoughts going through my mind as I explore what I can do with this. It's not as simple as 'it's fun' and 'I want to learn to do it.' Those things are good, but if I can't make it economical, then I need to spend less time on it.

Isn't it fun to stare into Artist-Business Manager-Marketer brain! Things are complicated. *wry grin*