Artist Robin Eckardt dressed up for Halloween 

Artists share the scarier moments in their art careers—and what they learned along the way. 

In terms of an art career, the scariest things aren’t zombies or ghouls, but real-life occurrences of getting ghosted after an invoice has been sent or vanishing clients. As arts professionals, a particularly frightening gallery interaction, a dead-end proposal, or a monster of a student can be the real horror stories of an art career. 

In honor of the Halloween season, we talked with twelve artists about their scariest art business horror stories—and if there are any cautionary tales to be learned from their experiences. 

The best part? These artists shared the valuable lessons that they learned during these unfortunate moments so that we can learn from their experiences. 

While being an artist has so many benefits, it can come with a lot of hard lessons learned.

Thankfully, with the advice and wisdom from these artists, we can look out for the warning signs and avoid possible art business horrors!

*Responses have been edited for brevity and clarity. 
Tina Scepanovic in front of her Gobstoppers Installation at 3 World Trade Center in NYC. Photo by Steve Selman. 

Tina Scepanovic Art Business Horror Story: An Artistic Copycat 

Artists are undoubtedly influenced by the thousands of images we see each day on social media. 

When community forms around visual concepts, we sooner or later find ourselves collectively dabbling with similar ideas. Discussions are sparked around how we arrived on this shared playing field, and there is a great sense of camaraderie that develops. We compare, contrast, and sometimes even marvel at the rare case of simultaneous artistic invention.   

But what happens when a community member blocks you on social media and outright copies you? 

How do you react when their Instagram account starts to eerily resemble yours, from color schemes to the way you present your artwork? 

Furthermore, how do you deal when you discover this person has scaled a business around these copies and is actively distributing them through channels with a significantly wider audience than you ever had access to?

Perhaps the biggest scare in my art career thus far was finding myself in this very tricky situation a few weeks ago. I was deeply saddened that a follower and someone I had once considered a friend had directly lifted my artwork and artistic direction and presented them as her own. 

But even more so, I felt stupid and ashamed— for not protecting my creative labor, not scaling up, and not being more deliberate about marketing myself and my artwork. 

So what did I do?

I first spoke with an intellectual property lawyer to understand my rights. I learned that artists can protect their artwork within the United States by registering each original piece with the US Copyright Office. Descriptions of the works must be precise and specific, as any deviations in the design would warrant a new copyright. Obtaining a copyright is relatively straightforward. However, actually pursuing legal action in response to an infringement is another story. It is a huge financial commitment that requires time, lawyers, and cease and desist letters. This is where independent artists get stuck.

Since each of my sculptural wall reliefs vary slightly, I would have had to register over 25 copyrights to fully protect my body of work. Assuming I had done that, I would have then had to gather evidence documenting which copyrights were violated and somehow cobble together a budget to hire a lawyer. Moreover, my copier was based in Australia and therefore outside the boundaries protected by US copyright law.

Knowing there was not much formal protection over my creative labor, a fellow artist encouraged me to share more about what makes my work unique. 

From a quick glance, the copies look like my work. But if you really take the time to study them, what do you notice? 

Through this exercise, I reconnected with my “why.” 

My practice is rooted in historical methods that date back to the Renaissance. I use traditional techniques that transform raw wood into stunning finishes that require fifty+ manipulations of sealing, sanding, glazing, lacquering, and polishing. Each step is performed entirely by hand with great care, and my pieces take months to complete. Not only is it impossible for me to scale up aggressively, but taking shortcuts and creating fast art is completely inconsistent with my values and the reason I started my practice to begin with!

With a renewed sense of what my art stood for, I decided that the best course of action would be to simply move forward. However, I had to use my voice and speak up. Without calling anyone out, I made a public statement on Instagram about what was happening and my community helped to amplify the message. 

Within a few days, the announcement reached the person who had been copying my work. She unblocked me, privately apologized, and promised to stop production.  

The lessons that were learned:

I wish I could offer firm advice for what to do when someone crosses creative boundaries. In the age of sharing, there is a fine line between being inspired and straight-up copying. As artists, we will likely find ourselves in this position at many points in our careers. 

  • What worked for me was reacquainting myself with my “why,” and remembering what makes my artwork undeniably original.

  • When we create authentically, we realize we are really not in competition with anyone. 

  • Ultimately, this experience showed me that I had one great idea that was worth stealing. I have ten thousand more brewing. What can I say? I’m an artist. 

Tina Scepanovic, Sculpture and Installation

 

Joan Zalenski’s Art Business Horror Story: Damaged Artwork and Damaged Trust

A number of years ago (12 to be exact), I installed a large piece of sculpture at an art center. I knew the director at the time, so it was a casual agreement for an extended loan (no time limit), which benefited both of us. 

My piece had great exposure in a busy public art center and I hoped it would sell. The downside was that after a number of years the director I knew left and was replaced by another. I had already moved to another state. I had left specific directions re: de-installation and contact info with the gallery manager at the time. I also knew many of the people who worked there. But, internal staff problems were rampant and the gallery manager left also. 

The time came when the 2nd or 3rd director decided to remove the piece. This sculpture was large, heavy, and fragile and could only be installed or de-installed with specific instructions, and by experienced art handlers—or it would be damaged. It was hung high on a stairwell wall. It required at least two people, and a lift to move it. I was never informed or contacted in regards to retrieving it.

Long story short, the director had two maintenance people remove it and, of course, it was badly damaged. Once it was off the wall, my contact info on the back of the piece was clearly visible. Still, no one contacted me about the removal or retrieval of the artwork. I found out two years after the fact from someone I knew who had worked there, that it had been removed. There were in fact at least five people who worked there who knew me and knew whose work it was. None of them ever let me know. 

Contacting this unprofessional, clueless staff proved to be exasperating. When I finally made contact, everyone denied everything. They did not know who it belonged to. They had no paperwork in their files. They had new rules, but no provision for existing, installed artwork on the premises—and on and on.

They refused to pay for the damage, or even file an insurance claim. I was forced to retain an attorney, who thankfully was a pro bono attorney for the arts. In the end, I received a small settlement, not enough to even cover shipping or travel expenses to retrieve it. It was a painful, ugly, costly experience, and a huge loss for me.

I overcame it mostly through the support and generosity of friends and professionals, although I still have feelings of anger and loss. My lawyers were great and very understanding. Here is what I learned the hard way.  

The lessons that were learned:

  • Never loan, sell, borrow or do any transaction with your work unless it's in writing. I'm sorry to say that trusting or depending on friends does not work. They might move away, you might move, and in an institutional setting, rules and staff change frequently. 

  • Read contracts or agreements carefully and run it by a professional if you can before signing.

  • If you do loan a piece for an exhibition, check up on it frequently. 

  • Put time limits on the borrower, and yourself. 

  • Make sure you have some kind of insurance in place or that the institution has insurance to cover damage or theft. 

  • Be professional about it — do the red tape to protect yourself and your work.

—Joan Zalenski, Interdisciplinary artist

 

Thodoris Standing In the Gallery Entrance, Michael Newberry, 18x24", pastel.

Michael Newberry’s Art Business Horror Story: Ghosted at a Gallery Opening

I have always had modest to good turnouts at my art show openings, but they were mostly done on my own, not with a gallery or an organization. Back in 1995, when I lived in  Rhodes, Greece, I had set up an international traveling exhibition that would premiere in Rhodes with the Municipality of Cultural Affairs and with a new gallery in Brussels, Belgium. The show was 45 Plein-air pastels that drew on the island of Rhodes. The premier in Rhodes went great. It was set up within the medieval walls of Rhodes, in a massive arched room that had been a Crusader ammunition storage area in the 15th century. It was open for a month and had excellent walk-in traffic, and I sold several works. I was a new resident there.

The second show, a few months later, was in Brussels; and it didn't go well. The owner of the gallery had fallen in love and I had very little experience communicating with dealers. I just assumed it would be a great opening. I delivered about 30 framed pastels, stayed with a collector, and excitedly looked forward to the opening evening. The night arrived and no one came to the opening! There were just two people: the dealer and my collector friend. 

It was an artist's nightmare. Just standing there looking at all the wonderful pieces, and anxiously waiting for anyone to show up—that was a long three hours! 

My host lived about three miles away, and when the opening was over, I chose to walk to his place. It was a cold fall evening and the long walk served me well. It gave me plenty of time to reflect on what was the most humiliating experience of my life. My main takeaway was congratulating myself on completing a traveling show. The other takeaways came years later.

The lessons that were learned:

  • When working with a dealer, make sure to include them in the curation of the artwork, it is after all their project too. 

  • Dealers of art galleries heavily invest in their reputations, time, and money to have the gallery.

  • Acknowledge your accomplishments, even when they don’t turn out as expected.

Through ignorance, I didn't consider the dealer at all. I just assumed he would do a great job. He must have felt snubbed by me. That combined with finding the love of his life, the dealer just blew off the opening. I learned to treat a dealer as carefully as I treat every aspect of my art—from the excitement from the first idea, through the trials of creating it, to the care of the marketing, framing, shipping, and archiving. 

Michael Newberry, Oil and pastel artist

 

Stacy D'Aguiar Art Business Horror Story: A Lesson in Last-Minute Experiments

Sometimes you just know when something is cursed. It could feel like a house is cursed, or a car, maybe a doll or a piece of furniture, or ... a painting. 

I started this painting with two pieces of 15”x36” aluminum panels and beautifully created a surreal, acrylic diptych painting for a big show in Chicago—it was a masterpiece. It was juried into the show successfully, and the only thing I had left to do was varnish it. What could go wrong?

I decided to varnish my painting with something I had never used before (mistake #1) called Soluvar Gloss Varnish. Usually, I use several coats of the Liquitex high gloss varnish—which is water-based and can’t be removed—while Soluvar can be removed. I was enticed into trying the Soluvar for this project because of its self-leveling quality.

 

"Psychedelic Swing" by Stacy D'Aguiar. 15"x72" acrylic on aluminum with resin.

Since I wanted a super high gloss sheen on my metal paintings, I knew after applying the first coat of Soluvar, that I would need several more coats to achieve that look. I waited 12 hours in between coats, but as I added more and more coats, I realized it wasn’t self-leveling or as glossy as expected and became bumpy. At this point, I only have a few days before I have to ship the painting to Chicago.

Thankfully, Soluvar is removable with mineral spirits … so no problem, right? Wrong. Not only did it take four hours to remove from both of my panels, but it also took off parts of my painting! 

At this point, one would think that I would switch back to the familiar varnish. But, in my mind, I thought that maybe I didn’t apply the Soluvar in thin enough coats, so (mistake #2) I tried again. The same thing happened.

Four hours later, I had removed the Soluvar and touched up the paint again. This time, I thought I would try something I had never tried before on aluminum … resin. Why not? I wanted to achieve a glass-like finish and resin has always worked for me on wood, so I tried it.

The results were spectacular! I now resin a lot of my metal pieces to this day. Everything was falling into place. I had it packed so well that nothing could penetrate this box and shipped it off without a hitch. The show was amazing, my piece was really well-placed, and it got a lot of attention.

Fast forward a month to when the show was taken down. I finally received my piece back from Chicago. I unpacked it, and to my dismay, the two panels had just been thrown into the box with the peanuts—not wrapped with the corner protectors, which were laying under the panels, or protected at all for that matter.

I lifted the pieces out of the box and was horrified to see that the corners of one of the panels had been smashed, and the resin cracked. Unfortunately, I didn’t have insurance on the piece I was shipping (mistake #3). Luckily I was compensated a small amount of the retail price by the gallery, and I was able to fix the painting.

The lessons that were learned:

  • Don’t experiment with unfamiliar varnishes on anything but a sample painting. 

  • Don’t repeat the same dumb thing you just did yesterday, that didn’t work out on that masterpiece.

  • Have insurance on your artwork so that you’re compensated for anything that might happen to your work while in transit or storage.

  • Determination goes a long way, and happy accidents come from experimentation.

The Cursed Painting, “Psychedelic Swing” [15”x72” acrylic on aluminum panels with resin] is currently for sale and as beautiful as ever! 

Stacy D'Aguiar, painter

Christina Ignacio-Deines Art Business Horror Story: The Horror of Missed Opportunities

My art business horror story involves not applying for funding and grants much earlier in my career because I didn't believe I could get them.  

I didn't think I was qualified / good enough, or I thought I'd be a better artist after I'd done more projects, exhibited more, or won more awards, and I would apply "later.” Well, later never truly came and I just had to decide one day to start applying for awards and grants and seeing what came in.

The truth is: no matter what stage you're at in your career, there is support available to you to help you get to the next level in your artistic and professional development. Artists provide a public service and a public good, and that deserves to be paid for and supported. Funding of any kind is not a determining factor in your value as an artist; it is simply a professional development and marketing tool you can use to build your business and practice. 

For me, it took a pandemic and experiencing the unexpected deaths of several people close to me for me to truly grasp how short life can be, and how precious our time is. On a practical level, if applying for grants and awards is scary, volunteer or apply to be a grant/award adjudicator; you will learn so much from being on the other side. 

The lessons that were learned:

  • You are always enough—you just have to believe you are.

  • There is support available to artists of all stages to help you get to the next level in your artistic and professional development.

Christina Ignacio-Deines, Interdisciplinary Artist

Denise Peter’s Art Business Horror Story: A Vanishing Gallery—and Check

I got into a gallery in another state and was so excited. A few months into it, one of my paintings sold and the gallery owner tragically passed away due to COVID. While such an unfortunate situation, she also had no power of attorney for the gallery—so no checks could be written. Of course, the gallery went out of business. 

The lessons that were learned:

  • I learned from now on that I ask the question of the owners. 

  • Make sure there is someone who can write checks for the business in the event of a problem.

It may be embarrassing in a new relationship, but if explained why they should understand. Live and learn. 

Denice Peters, soft pastels 


Caption: Mexican Poppies by Andrea Edmundson-Mosaic 11x14"

Andrea Edmundson’s Art Business Horror Story: A Monster of a Student

My horror started when a beginner student registered for an advanced mosaic class because, according to her, she had taken a stained-glass class twenty years ago. Except this class was with the wrong medium, wrong tools, and wrong techniques.

At the start of class, I suggested she wash her glass because it has two decades of dust on the surface, and mosaic adhesives would not stick well. “I’ve never had to do that before,” she declared as she grudgingly headed to the sink. In my next pass, I saw her unsuccessfully trying to cut glass around old barcode stickers. When I suggested Goo-Be-Gone and a scraper, I got a look of scorn and a big sigh—but she scraped one piece. I advised her that she needed to wash it again with soap and water because of the oil in Goo-Be-Gone. “But I already washed it,” I got in response. I patiently explained the reason for rewashing and she again grudgingly moved to the sink. 

While there, I recommend prepping all the colors of glass she plans to use so she can focus on creating art instead of mundane tasks. As I walked away, she loudly declared that I am a pushy teacher. As I contemplated a response, one of my students turns to her and politely explains how all these tasks are part of the mosaic method. In my next check on this new student, she was using the glass cutter and running pliers incorrectly. Just as I take a deep breath, another student calmly demonstrated the correct method to her. 

Soon after, she declared that her ‘broken’ wheeled nippers won’t allow her to nip glass into the shapes she desires. A third student stepped in, carefully demonstrating the proper technique. 

The difficult student eventually dropped the class, but our brief interaction was tempered by my students working as a mindful, educated team to get us all through a somewhat contentious environment.

The lessons that were learned:

All instructors dread the ghastly student. While they are rare, just one can have a ghastly impact on the success of the class and the experience of other students.  

  • I was reminded that you can also count on other students’ intuition, awareness of social cues, and communication skills —not to mention their technical skills —to come to the assistance of the instructor. 

Andrea Edmundson, Mosaic art and teaching

"Quillayute River, Mora" watercolor, studio in progress, Photo by Rick Woods

Rick Woods Art Business Horror Story: The Trifecta of Art Fair Horror

Art fair season and doing the ten-by-ten tent thing multiple times a summer can present a new set of challenges every time. Weather, fair management regarding vendor qualifications, and venue access can all present a different set of difficulties. 

Recently, a city celebrating spring blooms offered a park area on an artificial lake for an art fair. While the location was scenic,  the first major hurdle was access. According to the schedule, the first vendors to arrive were allowed to drive their vehicles down the park walkways (but not on the lawn). Parking was a quarter mile away. However, the first wave parked on the walkways, and dawdled unloading, while those of us less lucky in the setup lottery sat at the parking area fuming as the clock ticked. 

Just one car/truck/van would have been bad, but there were many who overstayed their unloading time. I finally got to my spot, unloaded, and skedaddled out of there. I hustled back and started setup. I struggled and finished in time, but I was still detailing the display as a few random park visitors—dog walkers mostly—started to wander through. Turned out that demographic was the majority of visitors to come through.

The lessons learned:

  • Check with the venue beforehand to see what the unloading situation will be like. 

  • Check how the fair has been advertised in the past and who the audience is for the show.

The second hurdle with art fairs can be the weather. At a recent art fair, there had been a forecast that was typical late May weather—variable. That day’s mix ranged from breezy and cool to spitting rain and strong gusts from the northeast. 

One gust blew half my stuff out the back wall. I spent a hectic few minutes chasing everything down and putting the display back together. There was a lull for a while, but the wind changed direction and blew everything out the other wall. Tents were flapping and flailing, while the forlorn cries of vendors were quickly lost in the gale. We bailed en-masse at about 1 pm, as the rain started in earnest. 

The lessons that were learned:

  • Bad weather can’t be avoided, but there are a few things you can do to help prevent damage. Ensuring that your work is sturdy and secured can help mitigate damage. 

  • It’s always better to be safe than sorry. Zip up tent walls and take down pieces you know might get damaged in strong winds or rain when the forecast isn’t promising.

A city with a AA baseball team had the idea that maybe game visitors would like to tour a craft fair outside the stadium before attending the afternoon game. I thought, “ok, might work.” Nope.

The stadium manager didn’t vet the vendors, so the true craftspeople were competing with a raft of sellers of re-tagged imported trinkets, Pandora mass-market bracelets and design-your-own hula hoops. Also, the potential customers were not likely to buy anything substantial that would require them to tote it around while attending the game. 

The lessons that were learned:

  • Ask for a list of other vendors or vendor requirements for each fair.

  • Consider the location and scenario and if it is the right environment for your target audience.

—Rick Woods, watercolor

 


Nina Simone exhibition, Artist Marcella Hayes Muhammad with Lisa Simone and her daughter in front of Marcella's artwork

Marcella Hayes Muhammad Art Business Horror Story: A Disappearing Venue 

As an African American artist, the opportunities for exhibiting my work has been limited and only recently opened up to a wider audience. However, back in the day, around 1996, it was very limited and most galleries were not very open to diversity. I can’t count the times I have been offered the opportunity by well-meaning people to help get my art into the public eye and build exposure through other avenues which I tried such as; a Café, restaurant, nightclub, event space, designer home in a new development, private home for an event of the homeowner, hallway during a fundraiser drive, conference room during a conference, City Halls, schools and libraries for Black History Month, small church festivals, and car dealership waiting rooms, to name a few. 

As a novice to the art world back in the day, I was open to these suggestions. I must say that experience is a great teacher!

The restaurant was one of these teachers. 

I was invited by the owner to exhibit in his new restaurant with a great menu, music, and dancing on Friday nights. I could have all of his walls to hang my work and (of course) it’s my job to hang them. Did I mention that the restaurant was dark with no lighting pointing at any walls? OK, let’s work around this.

I choose the walls that have the most exposure to the patrons and some lighting. After I hang the work, the restaurant owner assures me that he will encourage his patrons to notice the work and that it is for sale— and he will notify me right away if there is interest in sales. I have him sign an inventory of the works in his restaurant, an agreement on the dates of the exhibition, and we exchange all contact information. I leave a packet of business cards for easy reach and leave. I keep popping in to check things out since I don’t hear from him on a regular basis. Then, I notice business at the restaurant has dropped off, so I decide to remove some of the original work to enter into another art exhibition. I left three large framed works there. 

After the art exhibition, I returned to the restaurant to check up on how things were going and the vanishing began! I found a closed locked door; the place was empty and no notice of any re-opening. I never got a call or message from him. His number no longer functioned and he was not at his home address. GONE! And so were my three pieces of art in expensive frames. I never heard from him again. 

The lessons that were learned:

  • If you are showing in a nontraditional facility, make sure you have a solid contract in place.

  • Try to seek places that have a solid reputation or know the people involved. 

  • Don’t take promises of exposure and sales without covering yourself first.

  • I am also very happy that now I am able to participate in some galleries and museums open to diversity in artwork and… with a solid contract.

Marcella Hayes Muhammad, Oil on canvas

The image shows how the face is full of highlights on the left, but dark with no highlights on the right. 

Jean Lewis' Art Business Horror Story: A Fixative Incident that Couldn’t be Fixed

"You sprayed fixative on my pastel piece!"  I said in disbelief as the framer showed it to me. "All the highlights are gone!" 

This was my first time using this framer, but I never expected any problems because I left instructions about how I wanted the piece framed. The owner then insisted that they did nothing wrong and were blameless. I pulled up an image of the finished piece on my phone to show him how it really looked, and he accused me of altering the original in Photoshop. I explained that the piece was a commission, and the buyer would not want to buy it anymore. I asked for restitution for the lost sale. He told me no, and he then insisted that they were blameless.

The lessons that were learned:

It's difficult to paint a happy ending to a story like this one. I lost a sale, and that owner has no doubt done something unscrupulous to another artist as well. 

  • I recommend artists to be aware and guarded of all the businesses and people that feed into making their art business work. 

Jean Lewis,  pastel

 

Eric C. Jackson Art Business Horror Story: Unaligned Visions

Since I launched my online Studio in 2012, it was my dream to be represented by a gallery in New York City. However, the fees involved had always been a stumbling block. Still, in October 2021, I signed a one-year contract with an NYC gallery to exhibit my work through digital presentations. Of course, I was ecstatic.

Unfortunately, the gallery only did the bare minimum to fulfill its contractual obligations. My work was never even featured on their social media channels. Naturally, I felt heartbroken. After a few weeks of swallowing disappointment, I took control of my own marketing efforts and focused on creating better work while representing myself the best I can.

The lessons that were learned:

  • Those you partner with have to be equally invested in your goals. If you are simply another artist name to gain income from, it is better to move forward without them.

Eric C. Jackson, Digital Photography


Daniel Ambrose Art Business Horror Story: Forklift vs. Painting

To set the scene: It’s a scorching morning during a long summer drought in the Appalachian Mountains. To cool off, I am standing on a flat rock, painting a study in the middle of the South Toe River. The music of birds serenades me from the green canopy of overhanging trees. Downriver, a lone figure eases into the scene to flyfish.

Later in the studio, laboring over many months, I made a large oil painting from the study, “Sanctuary.” My process involves an intensive layering technique. I use glazing, translucent scumbling, and opaque paint applications to create a luminous effect. It’s an organic process that cannot be duplicated.

A gallery that I work with in Florida sold the painting and had it crated and shipped to Chicago. 

Then I got a phone call. A forklift ran through the crate and impaled the painting.

We had insured the painting at full value. The insurance company sent photos. Ugly, gut-wrenching gouge marks scarred the painting’s surface. The linen was punctured in several places.

They asked if I could patch it to repair it. Patch it? Seriously! Were they kidding?

A back-and-forth battle ensued between the insurance company, my gallery, the art packer, and shipping service. This went on for several months. In frustration, the gallery and art packer asked that I write the insurance company and explain why the painting was ruined.

I’m slow to burn, but I started getting mad. The art was insured — in case of damage or loss. But I was the creator, not the gallery or the shipper, and the only one who could explain why it could not be “patched.”

Original paintings have an intrinsic, intangible, often indescribable quality that exceeds the materials of which they are made. Obtaining that elusive, transcendent reality is the thing that pushes many artists onward in painting. Paintings connect people through powerful, profound, emotional and intellectual channels. 

Paintings are pathways to the heart.

It’s hard to transmit to another human the sense that an original painting conveys until they have felt this connection too. It is like trying to describe feelings of being in love to someone who never has been in love.

After stomping around the studio cursing the insurance company, I sat down and wrote to them in a brief letter.

The painting “Sanctuary” is an original. There is only one painting like it in the world—one. That is why it is called an original. Robots did not make it on an assembly line. A human made it with heart, intellect, and soul. Say a client custom ordered a Bentley car that was damaged during shipping. Would the client settle for … “Oh no worries, a little sanding and plastic filler will make it good as new?” The integrity of the car is compromised. It is not the original. Not the same car the client ordered and expected. The damaged painting is not the same painting the collector fell in love with and purchased.

The insurance company agreed with my analogy and after months of vexation paid the claim in full.

The lessons that were learned:

  • Make sure your work is insured at full value. 

  • Do not give up on fighting for your claim.

  • People might not understand at first why your work is valued that highly, but you can help them understand. 

Daniel Ambrose, Egg tempera.

Take the steps to avoid your own art business horror stories

Creating contracts, submitting clear proposals, and documenting your artwork are all ways to cover your bases and avoid art business horror stories. 

You can create consignment reports, generate certificates of authenticity and document your work in the case of copyright infringement on Artwork Archive with a free trial. 

What's more, you can get organized and manage your art business, avoiding the stress and headaches. 

You can learn more about the reports available on Artwork Archive and see how to catalog, manage, and organize your artworks on Artwork Archive.