If you’ve ever caught yourself repeating the same line about your work for the tenth time at a show—and hearing it fall flat—you’re not alone. One of the most common struggles artists face at events is figuring out how to talk about their work in a way that feels natural and engaging.
The goal isn’t to sound like a polished salesperson. It’s to create a real connection—to share enough of your story that someone feels drawn in, curious, maybe even inspired to make your work part of their life.
So how do you do that without sounding stiff, scripted, or like you’re reading off a brochure?
Start With Stories
People don’t remember facts; they remember stories. Instead of launching into technical details, try telling a short story about what inspired the piece. Was there a place, a memory, or even a conversation that sparked the idea? Did the process surprise you along the way?
A story gives someone a way into your work—it helps them feel what you felt while making it.
You don’t need to tell the whole life story behind every piece. A few lines is often enough:
“This piece came out of a hike I took in the Superstition Mountains right after a monsoon. The colors were so saturated I felt like I was seeing everything in HDR.”
Now you’ve opened the door. If someone wants to know more, they’ll ask. And they’ll be more likely to stick around long enough to ask.
Talk About Your “Why”
Collectors often aren’t just buying a piece of art—they’re buying a connection to something bigger. That’s why your artist’s statement and individual artwork descriptions matter. I’ve talked before about the importance of writing clear statements: not just for others, but for yourself.
Writing down your philosophy and intentions—whether for a bio, an exhibit, or a show catalog—can help you put language to what you’re doing. And once you’ve written it, you’ll find it easier to say it when someone asks, “So what’s your work about?”
You don’t have to recite your statement verbatim. But drawing from it will help you speak with confidence and clarity, especially when nerves creep in.
Prepare a Few Rotating Intros
If you’re doing a multi-day event or a full show season, you’ll want to avoid the “auto-repeat” syndrome. One way to do that is to have a few different openers ready to go. Here are a few types you might use:
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The story intro: “This series came out of a dream I had during the pandemic—sounds strange, but I woke up and knew exactly what I wanted to paint.”
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The process intro: “All of these are done in cold wax and oil—it’s a slow layering process that lets me experiment with texture.”
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The personal mission intro: “What I’m always trying to do is create a sense of calm—something that gives the viewer space to breathe.”
Mixing up your approach will keep you from sounding robotic and help you find the right tone for each conversation.
Practice, Then Let It Be Natural
It’s okay to practice ahead of time. In fact, I’d recommend it—just not to the point where your delivery starts sounding memorized. Think of it like a jazz musician learning the chord structure so they can improvise freely once the tune starts.
Use conversations at smaller events or studio visits to try things out. Notice what resonates. Notice when someone’s eyes light up or when they lean in. You’ll start to build your own rhythm and vocabulary.
In Summary
Talking about your art doesn’t need to feel forced. You’re not giving a TED Talk—you’re inviting someone into your creative world.
Write thoughtful statements for your work. Reflect on your “why.” Prepare a few different ways to start the conversation. Then relax and let the rest unfold naturally.
The right words don’t just help sell the work—they help build the relationships that lead to long-term collectors and lasting impact.
Jason, you mentioned “memories”. I have found memories to be incredibly powerful in selling my artwork and connecting with clients. In fact it has made me realize that life is really about the “memories” and that people want to hold on to those memories as long as they can. If your artwork can help people do that in any way, that can be very powerful. It has definitely worked for me when presenting and selling my work to clients.
Serendipitous that you and Jason should mention “memories”, Christopher, and that life is really about them. It has been raining day and night where I live so this is a “pyjamas day” for me. While having my morning cup of internet today, I decided to explore – for the first time – a section on my computer labelled …….. MEMORIES. As time rolled by on the screen for an hour, along with coordinating music that AI must surely have chosen, I now feel higher than a kite!!!! THAT is the power of memories without doubt! And if ever you are feeling “down”, I highly recommend tuning in to your memories. Be they about art or life in general, I guarantee that you will feel absolutely wonderful from nothing more than the benefit of internal endorphins and dopamine that your memories will afford you. So imagine how the “story/memory” you create for a client about a piece of art they are interested in can effect them. Simply magical!!
In Light & Love,
Verna
Verna, that’s such a vivid and uplifting reflection—thank you for sharing it. You’ve captured exactly why storytelling and memory are so powerful in art. When a piece connects to someone’s personal experience or evokes a feeling they didn’t expect, it becomes more than just visual—it becomes emotional. And as you said, that connection can be genuinely transformative. It *is* magical.
Very cool Verna!
Absolutely, Christopher—you’re tapping into something fundamental. When a piece of art evokes a memory or emotion, it becomes more than just an object—it becomes personal. That kind of connection often drives the decision to buy more than any technical detail ever could. Framing your work in that light not only helps people see it—it helps them *feel* it.
I totally agree. I never really thought about the idea of memories before, but once I began selling my work on a larger scale it was impossible not to notice the clients connection to the work and how it was impacted by their memories and experiences. People want to hold onto those memories for as long as they can. We are here for a very finite time.
I am local, and would love to meet you sometime so we could talk more.
I’m getting ready for an open studio event that will have a PV and open for 2 days. As I’m hiring a space and it’s a blank canvas I’m going for more of a gallery vibe. I feel on schedule with my plans but really need to think about the interaction part more and work on my elevator pitch. It’s sounding rehearsed that I’ve worried the most about, thanks for this timely post Jason. It’ll be alright on the night as they say!
Gina, sounds like you’re approaching the event with great intention—and the gallery-style setup will help set a strong tone right from the start. Glad the post helped with the part you’ve been wrestling with. Having a few natural starting points ready (but not memorized) can go a long way. And yes—it *will* be alright on the night! Best of luck with the open studio.
Stories are where it’s at, for sure. That’s as true of making our art accessible to people as it is in teaching the content of any discipline. Stories provide set, setting, and structure that make details of process and production stick, because once a story gets into you it never goes away. People remember stories forever. As for the “why” of sculptures of mine, I don’t even know what that means. All I can do to communicate the why without fabricating something I cannot know is true is to tell story about how the sculpture evolved; what was going on in my mind and my body while I was making it, and how making it changed my life in some way.
Well said, Lee. That kind of storytelling—honest, experiential, and process-focused—is often far more compelling than trying to pin down a neatly packaged “why.” Sharing what was happening as the piece came to life gives people a real entry point into the work, and often says more than a theoretical explanation ever could. And you’re right—stories have staying power. They create connection that facts alone rarely achieve.
I am a member of a Coop gallery, and I have to work one shift each month. Just a few months ago, a couple were browsing the gallery, and asked for help in getting a painting off of the display rack. It was my painting.
I laughed , and explained to the couple, who were familiar with the scene that I had depicted (which a studio painting), that I had worked from a photo I had taken during a hike, and I that I had actually camped out for a week at a nearby MD State Park. During that same hike that inspired the studio painting, I watched the sunrise slowly illuminate a popular waterfall, a bit further down the hiking trail, and I resolved set-up my plein air equipment at the same time, the next morning, to document the experience.
The next morning, I was there, but I encountered a problem. The painting spot was deep in the shaded valley, and the morning temps and humidity prevented my acrylic paints from performing as I expected, so I stopped. I could see that the top of the waterfall was in the sunlight, so I moved my equipment up to there, and did a painting looking over the brink of the falls.
I told them that that painting was in also in the gallery, and showed it to them. They bought it too.
Scott, that’s a perfect example of how sharing the story behind a piece can deepen interest and lead to a stronger connection—and in your case, an additional sale. You weren’t “selling” in the traditional sense; you were just sharing your experience, and that authenticity made all the difference. It’s a great reminder that sometimes the best sales tool is simply being present and willing to tell the story behind the work.
Being a landscaper painter, I have found that memories are what has sold about 2/3 of my paintings.
Thanks, Jason
👍👍👍
Once upon a time, at a sidewalk show, a passer-by stopped as if struck. She hurried into my booth and stopped as if entranced in front of one painting. She asked where it had been done. Instead of my usual literal answer, I grinned and answered, “You recognize it. Where do you think?” She told me of growing up by “that lake” and loved “that tree hanging over the water.” Instead of telling her it wasn’t her lake and tree, I agreed…because “that tree” was why I painted that particular piece. I knew why she was as captured by that tree as I was.
She bought it and I’ve treasured the memory of that particular sale. A connection made between 2 people who lived 3/4 of a continent apart…
Ginny, what a beautiful story—and such a great example of meeting someone in their own emotional landscape. You gave her room to see herself in the piece, and that made the moment—and the art—hers in a lasting way. That kind of connection is at the heart of what makes art so powerful, and what makes a sale feel meaningful on both sides.
“Pitches” are best served when selling a thing. Engaged, interactive shared conversations seem better suited when sharing an artistic story. Especially personal ones.
Absolutely, Ed. When it comes to art, it’s not about delivering a pitch—it’s about inviting someone into a conversation. Personal stories create connection, and that connection is often what turns interest into lasting appreciation—or even a sale.
I can think of one case where this resulted in a sale that I am certain would not have otherwise happened. A lady was looking over a print of one of my lower selling Portland street scenes and noticed the little motorcycle coming up the hill. I explained that after I’d done lots of paintings I noticed that motorcycles show up a lot more than I realized, probably because I used to ride one. I threw in “and I still have my endorsement on my license just in case”.
After you have written enough artwork statements this part of sales pitch becomes almost automatic because you remember what you had to take the effort to write about a piece.
That’s a perfect example, Mason. A small personal detail—like the motorcycle—can become the spark that turns casual interest into a connection. And you’re right: writing those statements builds a mental library of stories and talking points that come in handy during conversations with collectors. It’s not about delivering a pitch—it’s about sharing something real that helps the viewer see the piece through your eyes.