Category: Small Business

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A Scottish Cow in the Canadian Rockies

The first weekend of the Banff Christmas Market is over, and I am pleasantly surprised by how well it went. It was well organized, my booth location is ideal, and sales were phenomenal.

The Calgary Expo in April has long been an important event for me. It’s a fun show, and I enjoy it. But, including the Wednesday setup, it’s five very long days, and I’m usually wiped at the end. However, It’s often my biggest single payday of the year, so the effort is worth it.

Shonna texted me Sunday asking how things were going, and I replied, “These are Expo numbers.”

From revenue alone, I did better than Expo 2019 this weekend, and that was an excellent year. But sales figures for different venues are sometimes apples and oranges. With Expo, I must pay for a hotel for four nights, parking, electricity for my lights, and dining out. My booth for a four-day Expo also costs more than twice what this four-day weekend cost for the Banff Christmas Market.

For anyone considering these kinds of shows for your own business or side hustle, your expenses directly affect how successful a market really is—location matters. Banff is only a 25-minute commute, something many Canmore residents do for work every day.

Factoring in the significant reduction in expenses makes this past weekend the best sales I’ve ever had anywhere, including Expo. And I’ve got three more weekends to go, though the rest are three days, not four. Winter arrived on Monday with more snow in the forecast this week, so that might affect attendance, but I remain cautiously optimistic.

Hey, that’s a big step for me.
If things continue this way, the stock I ordered for all four weeks will be just about right, aside from two exceptions. I will likely sell out of calendars before the final weekend, and given that I can’t sell them online while the postal strike is on, I won’t order more. Once they’re gone, they’re gone.

However, the biggest surprise with this show is that some bestselling prints didn’t perform as well as they usually do, but other designs took up the slack. I keep detailed sales records, so when all four weekends are done, I’ll have a better idea if this is an anomaly or an overall difference with this audience at this venue.

Some advice for prospective vendors. Keep track of everything! You won’t remember a year down the road, and your sales records will inform your ordering choices.

By a considerable margin, this show’s bestseller has been my Highland Cow painting. I ordered what I thought would be enough for four weekends, but I will easily sell out by this coming Saturday. I have a long history and excellent relationship with Art Ink Print in Victoria, and as I wrote this post, they let me know that a rush order of Highland Cow prints are on the way by courier. So, even if I sell out of them this weekend, I’ll have new stock for the following two.

One of the best parts of this show is that it’s dog-friendly. I regularly come out from behind my table to meet four-legged attendees, as do other vendors.

A happy surprise this weekend is that former commission clients Jeremy and Jenny brought their two big dogs, Luna and Sally with them from Calgary for a weekend in Banff. I saw them at Expo this year, but I haven’t seen Luna since I delivered her painting a couple of years ago; it was a real treat. Since I have her painting on display in my booth as an example of my custom paintings, I took the opportunity for a picture.

It’s not a great photo, but you get the idea. Her expression did not disappoint.

An especially nice feature of this market was being able to bring replacement stock each day. On Sunday, instead of having to tear it all down and pack it home, I spent twenty minutes taking inventory, covered the booth and left, knowing it’ll be secure all week. This Friday, all I need to do is show up, put a few things back in place, and I’m ready for another weekend.

I hope to see more of you over the next three weeks at the Banff Christmas Market. I’m in the Banff Train Station building, sharing the grounds with 150 other vendors selling exciting and interesting things. It’s a festive atmosphere with cozy outdoor fires, food and drink, surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery on the planet.

Cheers,
Patrick

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A Little Calm Before the Storm

With a lot to do and feeling like I was way behind, a cabin trip seemed like a low priority. But it’s an inexpensive getaway, a relatively short drive, and I needed a break.

Though we don’t live that far away from each other, and we text or email most days, Darrel and I only see each other a few times a year, usually at the cabin we rent. But it’s one of those rare lifelong friendships where we just pick up where we left off. The only person who knows me better than Darrel is Shonna.

When I’ve mentioned this regular guys weekend escape in passing, people often say, “What do you do there?”

It’s pretty boring, really. That’s the point.

We talk and catch up. Darrel’s one of the smartest people I know, so we have interesting conversations. We play guitar, some trips more than others. We go for long walks through the woods and pastures, hoping to see wildlife. We walked a little slower this trip, as Darrel is still recovering from knee surgery. The wildlife was limited to squirrels, whiskey jacks, woodpeckers, and skittish deer way off in the distance.
Not the most exciting critter encounters, but I got some good squirrel pics. This amusing little chatterbox might very well inspire a painting.
I took photos of wind-broken tree stumps where I might place an owl or eagle. A natural doorway created by curved and fallen branches has potential. You never know what might spark a new piece.Though we had visited with them earlier, the owners texted us Sunday evening that the Atlas comet was barely visible over the pasture. It had been brighter and more evident days earlier, but this was the last chance to see it. We walked out in the dark, not wanting to use flashlights that might ruin our night vision and found the faint anomaly among the sea of stars. Darrel took this shot on his newer phone. I couldn’t get a good capture with mine. You can just see the comet tail on the left.
We had nice fall weather for most of our time there, but it got cold and windy Sunday night and Monday. A snowstorm hit Calgary and Canmore, and given the road reports and Shonna’s texts, I was thrilled I didn’t have to drive back until Tuesday.

We spent most evenings sitting in the kitchen or by the wood stove, chatting or playing Scrabble or card games. I even brought a chess board, the first time I’d played in years. I lost but held my own and look forward to playing again.

I could have easily stayed another week, hiding from work. But it was a nice break before everything kicks into holiday season high gear, so I certainly won’t complain.
My order from Pacific Music & Art was waiting for me when I got home, and it contained calendars, ceramic coasters, and magnets for the Banff Christmas Market. Added to the large order of prints that arrived a couple of weeks ago, I’ve never had this much product at one time. It’s both exciting and frightening.
On the one hand, it shows that this side of my business continues to grow. As it’s the work I enjoy most and has the best chance of ensuring my financial future, I’m grateful. But it’s a significant investment of time and money that comes with no small amount of anxiety.

So, I keep reminding myself of all those sayings and platitudes. No reward without risk. Change never happens when you’re comfortable. Fortune favours the bold.

Fear is temporary. Regret is forever.

Be the ball.

Back to the drawing board.

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Failure to Launch

With a website and email list, keeping up with regular posts is important, especially when there’s an implied promise to anyone who subscribes.

But what if it’s been weeks, and I haven’t got any new work to share? Or what if I’ve got nothing upbeat and positive to write about? Everybody talks about the value of authenticity, but when you’re struggling with unrealized expectations and unmet goals, is it better to go a month without posting, or do you bare it all and risk the unsubscribes from people who just want to see another funny-looking animal painting?

It’s amazing how often people think art-for-a-living is drawing and colouring all day. I spend more time on business activities surrounding the art than I ever do creating it, as do most creatives I know. Knowing that reality ahead of time is essential if you’re ever considering this profession.

It has become clear that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew this year. I began 2024 with big plans and projects and feel I’ve mostly failed. I work long hours almost every day, but I’m not getting enough done.

The editorial cartoon work can be incredibly frustrating as those deadlines always take priority over the painted work, even though it’s the side of my business with no chance of increasing revenue. Newspapers aren’t about to bounce back.

So the first weekly task, beginning Sunday morning, is to get five syndicated cartoons done before Wednesday for my daily and weekly newspaper clients and one local exclusive cartoon done for Tuesday evening for the Rocky Mountain Outlook. Then, if breaking news doesn’t disrupt the schedule, I can work on administrative work like invoicing, print packaging and shipping, promotional material, writing, and hopefully painting.

I wanted at least two new puzzles for the Banff Christmas Market this year. But because I needed to finish two very involved paintings that still aren’t done, that won’t happen. There’s a long lead time to have them printed and packaged, and I missed that deadline.

Puzzles come with a significant initial expense, and I had to ask myself if I needed to spend more when I already have plenty invested in other stock.

I drove into the city on Sunday morning to drop off a large print and sticker order to the Calgary Zoo. Usually, that’s an opportunity to take reference photos, but with no extra time, I didn’t go beyond the gift shop. After a quick detour to Costco, I was back at my desk drawing cartoons by early afternoon.

Because of the work that goes into selling and marketing my art, with the runup to the Banff Christmas Market, I’m not getting enough painting done, and I don’t know how to solve this problem.

From early November until mid-December, there won’t be any time off. I’ll be at my booth at the Christmas Market from Friday to Sunday every weekend. From Monday to Thursday, I’ll be drawing editorial cartoons, packaging and shipping orders, and the usual admin work, plus the extra with a gift show. That doesn’t leave time for painting.

I’m trying to keep the proper perspective on this. I still have 50 animal paintings available in prints. That’s more than enough for the upcoming market. Though I wanted some paintings in progress finished for this event, I don’t need them. Those I added earlier this year for the Calgary Expo will still be new to people at this venue.

I did two weekends for the first time at the Banff Christmas Market last year. This year, I’m doing four. Unlike at the Calgary Expo, I don’t yet have a following at this event. That means my classic and bestselling paintings are still new to this audience. I will meet plenty of people who have never seen my Smiling Tiger, Otter, Winter Wolf or the grinning gallery of grizzly bears.

I need to retire some paintings in my current catalogue. When you put too many choices in front of people, it gets overwhelming. My printer in Victoria has minimum order requirements, so if I only sell two of an average selling image at Christmas, that costs me more than I made because of how many I had to order.

Art-for-a-living is a business and requires difficult choices. When a painting is no longer popular, it’s time to let it go in favour of testing the waters with new work.

In the past, I’ve put prints in the store as soon as I painted them. In 2025, I will only do print releases twice a year. This will hopefully allow me to get several paintings done, build anticipation, and have a bunch of new releases to promote before the Calgary Expo in the spring and the holiday season in the fall.

It also means I can build new art collections for potential licensing rather than offer new paintings individually. Licensing revenue hasn’t been as reliable as I’d like this year, and it is even down for some clients.

Even with non-exclusive licenses, many companies don’t want to offer the same paintings on the same type of products. So, when images are already spoken for, they’re less likely to attract new clients.

To solicit new contracts, I need to offer them new paintings.

En route to Thanksgiving dinner with family this coming weekend, we’ll detour to Discovery Wildlife Park to drop off a print order, but there won’t be time for a visit there, either. Thankfully, I do have a cabin trip coming up for a weekend break before the holiday frenzy begins.

Then, I’ll get my flu and COVID shots to do my best to stay healthy for the rest of the year. I have a recurring worry that I’ll get sick for one of the market weekends, and my booth will sit empty.

In silver lining news, because of the large print orders I just filled for the Calgary Zoo and Discovery Wildlife Park, and not wanting to leave anything until the last minute, all my prints have arrived for the rest of the year. The online store is fully stocked with prints, stickers and postcard sets. I am still waiting on calendars.

If you haven’t checked out the store for a while, please do, as I’ll retire many of these after they sell at the Banff Christmas Market. Don’t miss out on what might be your favourite. My prints are 11×14, an easy-to-find frame size wherever you buy yours. It’s never too early to start thinking about office gift exchanges or spreading happy animal art around to your friends and family.

As for sharing new work, I won’t promise anything right now for fear I won’t be able to deliver. All I can do is ask for your patience. There’s nobody who wants to see more finished work than me.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Will the real whimsical wildlife painter please stand up?

If your art becomes popular enough that people like it, share it and buy it, somebody will steal it. Some creatives stamp ugly watermarks across every image they post to try to combat this, but what’s the point if you need to go that far?

It’s not uncommon for people to remove my signature or change the wording in one of my editorial cartoons and then post it on social media with no credit or link to my site. It happens to every cartoonist. It strikes me especially funny when the alteration is so they can call a politician a liar, thief, or criminal.

Today’s word is irony.

On occasion, a company has stolen my work and offered it on an online product, usually in another part of the world. In most cases, a cease and desist is all it takes to remove it, and then they steal somebody else’s work. But in some countries, everything online is seen as free for the taking. I know artists who’ve been on vacation in Thailand and seen their work sold at roadside market stands.

If you’re shocked by this, remember that scammers bilk senior citizens out of their retirement savings every day. Humanity has more than its fair share of bottom-feeding scumbags. Art theft isn’t even close to the worst of it.
Several years ago, my friend Kathryn alerted me to a woman on Vancouver Island using my Otter painting as the logo for her business. It was on her business cards, a sidewalk sandwich board, window decals and advertising. When I called the owner on it, she said she Googled ‘royalty-free images’ and my otter came up. I asked if Mickey Mouse had come up in that search, would she think Disney would allow her to use him as her logo? My signature is still on the image on that sign! She angrily told me I was being unreasonable and said if I had been nicer, we could have come to an arrangement.

Based on such a trustworthy beginning, I clearly missed out on untold riches.

On a trip to Vancouver Island, we stopped in Ladysmith to ensure it wasn’t still going on. She’d sold the store, and my work was nowhere to be seen. That’s why I’ve blacked out the name in the photo.
Another company in the same area had my Moose and Grizzly Bear paintings on their chocolate-covered candy labels sold in a local store. The company’s owner in Eastern Canada said they’d hired a graphic designer to make the labels. He just stole my work online and passed it off as his own.

The owner apologized and said he would remove the offending images from his products.

People will frequently look down on artists for not having ‘real jobs,’ or expect us to work for free or the ever-popular ‘exposure.’ Every time I try to pay my bills with this mythical currency, companies laugh at me. I guess it’s only good for art.

For many people, art is their business; when somebody steals from your business, you must deal with them. If it’s an overseas company in a country with lax copyright laws, you could sell your house and spend it all on lawyers, and you still wouldn’t win.

You pick the hill you want to die on.

Which brings me to last week.

A woman in Nevada has been selling my artwork as her own, alongside what I can only assume is questionable CBD potions. As far as I can figure, she has purchased canvases of some of my work, likely from print-on-demand sites like Art.com, Wayfair, iCanvas, and others.

These companies were licensed to sell my work through agreements I signed when represented by Art Licensing International. I ended that relationship early last year, but these companies had contracts with the rights to sell my work until the end of their terms.

Most of those have expired, so even though you can still see my work on some sites, you can’t order it anymore. I’ll write another post later on why I don’t find those sites appealing.

Since the art thief has been doing this for a few years or longer, I suspect that’s where she got them since I don’t post high-resolution images on my site. She then applied some brushstrokes to those canvases and sold them as her original work.

At Photoshop World Las Vegas in 2014, I took a class from a New York copyright lawyer. He was an entertaining character but knew his stuff and had represented plenty of artists who’d been ripped off. His advice even saved me from a deal I worked on that very week with a couple of scammers in Calgary.

The lawyer talked about the oft-quoted 10% rule, the belief that if you change another artist’s work enough, copyright no longer applies, so that you can resell it as your own. He shared the official legal term for that rule; Bullshit.

It’s the kind of thing amateur creatives tell each other to justify stealing.

According to Canadian and United States law, an artist owns copyright to their work as soon as they create it. However, officially registering allows you to claim more financial damages when suing somebody for a breach.
From what I’ve found, she stole my Coyote, Grizzly, Black Bear, Moose, Squirrel, Peanuts and Smiling Tiger paintings, but likely more than that. While the first five are no longer bestsellers, and a couple are even retired, my Smiling Tiger and Peanuts paintings are two of my most popular, bestselling and frequently licensed images.

Stupid is as stupid does.

She advertised that she’d be showing her art all month at a venue in Nevada, complete with photos on her website, Facebook and Instagram. She removed the image from her webpage, but I saw that coming and captured screenshots. Not my first rodeo. I have blacked out some areas of the image that may unfairly implicate others.
I contacted the venue and informed them that this ‘artist,’ for lack of a better term, had stolen my work. I included several links to my site, blog posts where I wrote about the images when I had painted them, and links to companies that licensed my art. And while I told them I didn’t blame them for the infraction, I suggested they distance themselves from the offender.

The response from the venue was better than I’d hoped. They apologized (not their fault), told me they removed the canvases from their walls and even copied me on an email they sent to the fraudulent artist. In it, they told her she was no longer welcome there, and if she wanted to collect her canvases, they’d be at the local Sheriff’s office for retrieval.

She declined to pick them up.

You don’t say.

I had also contacted a friend who lives in that area and asked if she knew the place. She said she did and spoke highly of it. I don’t believe they’re complicit, and as the business is also a victim of this fraud, I see no need to name them.

I have sent emails to other events she’s advertised on her site and to markets where she has sold my work in the past, informing them of the theft and asking them to cancel her registrations.

I am not an advocate of cancel culture and trial by media. Some people don’t know what a reasonable response is, and internet vigilantism seems to have one setting: scorched earth.

That said, given what I’ve seen, she has been stealing my artwork for years. The problem is that when I searched for her online, I came across a few other legitimate artists with the same name, and I don’t want them confused with this thief. It takes very little time to cancel somebody, and it’s nearly impossible to reverse it when you’ve got the wrong person.

So, instead, I’ve shared the photos from her site. I’ve blacked out the venue name and details but left her name intact. Since references to and images of my work are still up on her Instagram and Facebook, I’m also linking to those. The artwork may be removed when you read this, as I’ll share links to this post in her comments section. She has removed my images from the front page of her website.

From a cease-and-desist email I sent her, she responded, “Patrick. I’m very sorry. I will never paint again. The paintings I have will be destroyed. Kat.”
After a whole career dealing with this kind of thing, I am firm-footed in ‘fool me twice’ territory. Her reply almost stopped me from writing this post, but she’s standing proudly in that photo with six large canvases of an art style I’ve spent years developing. And 24 hours after her apology, my work is still visible on her social media with mentions of her amazing paintings. Very sincere.

Genuinely sorry, or sorry you got caught?
If your only available settings for creating art are stealing it or not painting at all, I’m at a loss to understand why you’d bother pretending to be an artist. Choose a profession more suited to questionable morality, like federal politics.

I’m sharing this story as a cautionary tale and a teaching moment. If you’re an artist learning new skills, copying somebody else’s technique, studying their methods, and imitating other styles to find your own is part of the process. That’s what every artist does. It’s how we learn. Eventually, you get tired of being a poor copy and strive to become an original.

But don’t steal somebody else’s artwork and pass it off as your own. It’s happened to every artist I know, and it can quickly become an open wound that never heals. People will find out. Artists routinely reverse-search their own images to catch this sort of thing, though I found out about this infraction another way.

When one artist sees another ripped off, they will tell them about it because we all know how it feels. In some cases, if the artist is popular enough, their community of followers will destroy you online. I’ve seen it happen more than once. It’s brutal.

Dealing with this issue has taken way too much of my time this past week, time I’d much rather have spent painting. It should be obvious why this got bumped up on the priority list.

While I’m not happy about this situation, I’ve mellowed in my older middle age, and I’m not raging or losing sleep over this. It would be naïve for her to imagine several years of theft can be erased by three short sentences in an email, with little action to back up her supposed remorse. I don’t know how much of my artwork she sold, but I’m confident I won’t get a cheque in the mail. And anyone who bought my work from her likely won’t get refunds.

I’ll keep an eye on her to make sure she stops stealing my work, and if further evidence presents itself of ongoing fraud, I’ll make it as uncomfortable as possible for her to continue.

And if she suddenly finds a new art style (she’s done this before), you can bet I’ll do my best to let the next victim know about it and help them in any way I can.

Cheers,
Patrick

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You’ll Find Me at The Calgary Expo

As I write this, Calgary Expo 2024 is a little over two weeks away, April 25-28, 2024.

100,000 people attend over four days, one of the biggest events of its kind in North America. It occupies Exhibit Halls B, C, D, E, and F of the BMO Centre, plus an entire floor of The Big Four Building for Artist Alley.

While still a lot of work, I have a decade of experience with this show, so it’s not as stressful as it used to be. Prep starts on the last day of each Expo, putting down a deposit for the next one. More deposits follow throughout the year, hotel booking in December, following the same steps that lead right up to booking my electrical, parking and insurance, which I did just last week.

This weekend, Shonna and I opened up the first metal prints of my latest paintings, and that’s always fun. A painting never feels finished until I see it in print, as that’s when my work looks its best.

I bring hundreds of prints to this event, and they’re all here. I need to sign the latest order of 60 prints and assemble many more this week with backer board, art bios, and sleeves.

Vinyl stickers and postcard sets are ready, but I’m still awaiting a magnet and coaster order. I hope that shows up soon.

Over the next week, I’ll review my booth hardware, check grid walls, lights, tables, backdrops, banners, and the rest of the detailed checklist. Living out of a Calgary hotel for five days, working long late hours, there’s no chance of driving home if I forgot something.

Here’s the map of the BMO Centre and where you will find me this year.
In 2022, my booth location was up in the air until the day of the show, and it was stressful. At first, I didn’t get the type of booth I booked and I needed to address that. Following that, when I got there, one list said I was in one spot and another in a different spot. I couldn’t even unload my car. While I empathized with the organizers’ difficulty trying to please everybody, I still paid a premium for my corner booth, and I had to become the squeaky wheel with emails during the week leading up to the show. I am sure I annoyed the organizers when I became frustrated and could no longer be patient and keep quiet.

Even though that show began rough, it worked out well and was an excellent year for me.

I don’t recall ever having a bad booth placement, but some years have been better than others. As the show evolves each year, the layout often changes. Last year, they assigned my booth outside the main hall, where I’d been since my first year, to an adjacent hall near the Main Stage. I was at first disappointed but decided to make the best of it without complaint.

In yet another example of ‘got what I needed instead of what I wanted,’ last year’s placement turned out to be one of my best. As the Main Stage was a big draw throughout the show every day, there was plenty of traffic. I also heard that the main hall was crowded on Saturday and people needed extra time to get anywhere.

As vendors book for the following year on the show’s last day, I asked the Show Manager if I could request that hall again, and he seemed a little surprised. I explained that it was my best sales ever, and he told me to write down the request on my application and they would do their best. This was the same manager I had a minor conflict with the year before regarding the booth issue, so last year, I made every effort to be as friendly and pleasant as possible in every interaction with him. Had I done any damage to my relationship with the organizers, I wanted to do my part to repair it.

If somebody promises a service or product and fails to deliver on agreements, you should hold them to account and argue for what you paid for. It can quickly become a pattern if you don’t, especially if somebody gets used to your rolling over. But if someone tries to do right by you and correct their errors, that’s all you can ask. We too often fail to realize that everybody’s job is difficult. People make mistakes.

As the show grows closer each year, waiting for my booth placement is a bit of a nail-biter. Some years, it has come only a week before the show. An unexpected placement can mean redesigning the whole booth at the 11th hour.

This weekend, my booth assignment email arrived, and I quickly scanned the attached PDF floor plan. I started at last year’s location and saw that I didn’t get the same spot, which was OK because I knew it was a long shot. But I hoped it would be nearby.

I quickly found my booth number and breathed a sigh of relief. From what I know of this show, this year’s placement looks ideal, even better than last year’s.
Two more aisles of booths are in that hall this year, so it looks like a bigger show. Between the Main Hall and the Main Stage Hall is a corridor through which all traffic comes and goes. My corner booth is at the end of an aisle, within easy view of everyone coming through that corridor. Below was my booth design last year and it worked so well that I will use the same one this year, only reversed, and with a bunch of new artwork, of course.
The organizers are likely pulling their hair out two weeks out, trying to get everything done. No doubt, when they announce booth placements, they receive emails from people who didn’t get what they wanted or those politicking for a last-minute change.

Though we all get too many emails these days, I sent them a quick Thank You. At least they’ll get one that lets them know their efforts are appreciated.

Before I was an exhibitor at the Calgary Expo, I was an enthusiastic attendee. It’s a fun, family-friendly event for all ages and a real circus-like spectacle. I have rarely encountered anyone at this show who wasn’t having a good time or happy to be there. It’s just that kind of vibe and a professional and personal highlight of my year.

Advance tickets are on sale until midnight on April 10th. Hope to see you there.

Cheers,
Patrick

 

 

 

 

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Reflecting and a Raven on White

In the late nineties, I worked different jobs at a hotel in Banff for five or six years, from waterslide attendant and manager to front desk agent, night auditor and accounting clerk.

I used to doodle, sketch, and draw a lot in those days. I wasn’t very good at it, but like with any skill, you don’t produce your best work until you’ve paid for it with years of bad work. It was a hobby that I never thought would become a career.

While at the waterslides, after I’d finished cleaning, the job often meant minding the desk until guests showed up. I might spend hours alone in the slow season, so I would read or draw. The night audit position required a couple of hours running financial reports at the beginning of the shift, then babysitting the front desk all night until the day staff arrived.

More time to draw.

I filled countless sketchbooks during those years, all long ago discarded, recycled or shredded. I’m not a nostalgic person, and I don’t like clutter. Some have suggested I should have kept that stuff because it might have been worth money someday.

Ever seen American Pickers? Those outbuildings full of junk are all about people keeping useless stuff for that very reason. Most of it is worthless.

Proving we never know what we’ve got ’til it’s gone, I took all that creative freedom I now miss for granted. No deadlines, no expectations, and no need for any of that artwork to pay the bills. With no social media or website then, I didn’t have to post any of it.

Art for a living is a double-edged sword. While I certainly prefer it to that waterslide job or working midnight shifts minding a front desk, and working at home alone suits my nature; I no longer draw anything just for fun. If I’ve got time to draw, I spend it on editorial cartoons or whimsical wildlife paintings.

I used to enjoy editorial cartooning, but following politics and the news every day, especially in our increasingly toxic and adversarial culture, it’s just a job, and there’s little joy in it. But I can’t ignore that without cartoon deadlines; I wouldn’t have been as disciplined to draw almost every day for more than twenty years. That constant practice has made me a better artist. How could it not?

The wildlife paintings, however, are the antidote to the negative news cycle. I’d much rather spend every day painting fur and feathers, recording painting videos, or writing, but that’s currently just over half of my artistic income, so I need to devote equal time to the darkness and light.

The financial pressure I assign to my wildlife work often decides which animals I paint. I will avoid certain animals because they’re unlikely to be popular. I must always think about the market potential for anything I paint. Will this or that retail or licensing client be interested, will it be popular at markets, and which products might benefit from this piece?

I’ve only realized in recent years how loud those questions have become. My Otter and Smiling Tiger are two of my bestsellers, but I wasn’t thinking about that when I painted either of them nor could I have predicted their success.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t trying to predict and produce the next bestseller every time I plan a new painting, even knowing it’s impossible. Art isn’t an algorithm. Based on market trends, you can’t accurately predict what will resonate with people. I know because every year, the licensing industry pretends they know what people want and what will sell, and they fail more often than succeed.

Like with political polls or long-range weather forecasts, we pay attention to these poor predictions and then complain about how often they’re wrong. We’re not as bright as we like to pretend.

Several people asked me to paint a sloth a couple of years ago. I kept putting it off because I had no interest. But I finally got tired of hearing it and wondered if I was missing something. So, I put the time in and painted one. It was a worthwhile challenge, and I’m pleased with how it turned out. I learned some things in the process, but it’s not one of my personal favourites. I’ve never felt any connection with sloths. It sells well enough, but it’s not a bestseller.

Over the past year, I’ve received a bizarre number of requests for another animal, at least twice a day at the Banff Christmas markets. It’s another I wouldn’t have chosen, but I started on it this week. With the Calgary Expo on the horizon, it’s the best place to test if requests will result in actual sales, should I manage to do a good job. Rather than tell you what it is, I’ll share it in a couple of weeks.
I’ve always liked ravens, and I talked a bit about that in my last post. Because ravens are popular, this piece was a marketing decision and an animal I wanted to paint. It’s nice when it can be both, but I catch myself asking composition questions while I paint that I never would have when I didn’t do this for a living.

Will no background make the painting more or less popular? Will people want the blues and purples in the feathers to be more or less vibrant? Should I have exaggerated the whimsy more, or did I go too far already?

It also applies to writing posts like this. Am I being too negative? Will this angsty artist crap turn people off? Should I write something peppy and encouraging, even though I feel none of that right now? What do people want to hear?

These questions are pointless, but I find them impossible to ignore.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “You wouldn’t worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.”

But because this work is my livelihood, it’s nearly impossible to avoid these thoughts. My time is limited, and spending it on a painting that doesn’t sell well feels like I wasted it on the wrong painting.

Second guessing like that often leads to procrastination and self-doubt. Too long in that headspace, and I’ll ultimately paint nothing because I’m looking for impossible guarantees.

It would be nice to end a post like this with a positive affirmation or some conclusion that hints at some 11th-hour writing wisdom. But I have no clear answer to this flawed perspective. I’m still working on it.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Market Lessons


Sales were good for both Banff Christmas Market weekends, so I’ll book again next year. The weather was great, right up until a sudden snowstorm Sunday evening, just in time for load-out, but that’s life in the Rockies.

When you make art for a living, profitability is the critical metric for an event’s worthiness, but after you achieve the financial goals, there are intangible benefits, too.

At the Calgary Expo earlier this year, a new vendor introduced himself, thanked me for a couple of blog posts I’d written about the Expo, and said it helped him prepare for his first booth. I got plenty of help and advice when in his shoes, so I was pleased to pay it forward.

There are plenty more experienced vendors than I am, but I’ve done enough over the years to understand what works and what doesn’t.

Every vendor has something to teach you. From where to find a decent meal in a sea of deep-fried food trucks to when to get there on the last day for a good parking spot for load-out. Those who’ve been there before have the wisdom; most are happy to share it.

Keep good records. I have a detailed sales spreadsheet I update each day of the show, whether home or away. You may only do a particular market once, but if you do well and come back the following year, you won’t be able to remember what you sold, so you won’t know what to bring. It’s not enough that I know the Smiling Tiger or Otter were bestsellers. I need to know how the other 40 images did, too.

Be honest about your costs. You don’t make any money until you know what you’ve spent.

Because I got to come home each night, the expenses for these recent markets were low, mainly booth cost and insurance. At the Calgary Expo, once I added up booth cost, parking, power, insurance, hotel and meals, I spent $2000 before I sold one print. To make it worth my time, I must make much more there than at the Banff Christmas Market.

Then, every sticker, magnet, coaster, calendar, puzzle, and print has a cost that must be deducted from each sale before I know what I made. And every time somebody pays with a credit card, there’s a fee, too.

Shit happens. On Thursday, as I set up, I dropped the first metal print of my Blizzard Bear painting. Most wouldn’t have noticed the corner damage, and it still looked good on display, but a slip of my fingers and the profit from that piece was gone. Thankfully, another vendor, a fan of my work from Expo, was happy to buy it at cost. So, I didn’t lose money, and she got a big metal print that wasn’t in her budget at full price.Booth location and size might be inaccurate, neighbours may be challenging, organizers could be stressed out, and anything can happen. Roll with it until you can’t, and then ask for help.

Help your neighbours. It might be scissors, a hammer, or a band-aid, but somebody always forgets something. I have power at my booth, and occasionally, somebody needs to charge their phone. Keep an eye on a neighbour’s booth for a washroom break. Hold the other end of their banner while they hang it up. I get plenty of offers for help and do my best to return in kind. And it helps you make friends, too.

You won’t always connect with the people around you. I remember one Calgary Expo where none of my neighbours were interested in friendly small talk. That makes for a longer market, especially during slow periods.

In Banff, I had two fun neighbours. We were all on the same page with work ethic and professionalism, but I enjoyed their company when there was room for kidding around and chatting. I hope to share space with them again in the future.

Foam floor pads and comfortable shoes. If you do it right, you’ll stand long hours for multiple days. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be.

Don’t complain or talk politics. This past weekend, a woman started going off about world government plots and chem trails in the sky. One minute, we talked about the great weather and beautiful mountains; next, she headed down the conspiracy rabbit hole. I smiled and politely said, “It’s a strange world.” After I said it the second time, she seemed to realize I wasn’t taking the bait and moved on. Arguing politics and controversial topics with strangers is a waste of life and will do nothing good for your business.

Eat well and often. Pack small healthy items you can eat quickly between customers without stuffing your face: carrot sticks, protein bars, a pre-cut sandwich, and pieces of cheese. Drink water. Setting up and tearing down grid walls and hardware, expect to damage yourself. My hands are wrecked at the end of a show from dry skin, cracked fingertips, and chipped or split fingernails. Bring a first aid kit. Nobody wants blood on their prints or stickers. Bring hand sanitizer and moisturizer.

All these people you’re talking to, especially this time of year, several of them are spreading colds or flu they don’t even know they have yet. It’s unavoidable, but healthy habits are your best chance of prevention.

Lozenges and breath mints are a must. You’ll have to talk a lot, and foul coffee breath won’t help your sales.

You’re there to sell. One vendor told me about someone at another show complaining that he wasn’t making any money. He left his booth often to wander the show. I’ve often seen neighbours spend all their time on their phones, heads down, ignoring people who walk into their booth, failing to engage with potential customers. A vendor next to me at this market, her friends and family hung out at her booth all day long socializing. Customers came and went without a word exchanged.

Respect other vendors. If you’re chatting with a neighbour and a customer approaches, leave the conversation. If it’s their customer, they’ll appreciate it. If it’s your customer, a professional neighbour will understand.

Be positive. Slow times happen, but they can also turn around on a dime. Desperation is contagious, and customers will pick up on it.I’m a pessimist. I don’t have a lot of faith in people. It comes from following the news for a living for my editorial cartoons. I work at home and enjoy my solitude. And yet, at markets, I try to be upbeat, smile, happy and joke around. It’s part of the job. It’s not all an act; I’m genuinely pleased to introduce new customers to my art, and many have become friends over the years. I’m always happy to see them again.

You never know who you’re talking to. If you make assumptions about people, you might say something that makes you look foolish and miss a valuable opportunity. Many people ask about commissions, and I advertise them in my booth with a large metal print of my Luna painting from last year.

When they ask about pricing, I tend to soften the blow with “it’s an investment” before I tell them it’s $1900. The sticker shock is evident on most faces, but then I explain the amount of work that goes into each one, the many hours of painting, the back-and-forth photo exchanges and prep before I paint one brushstroke, and that, unlike my other work, there is no market for that piece when finished. Most people understand, but spending that amount on a painting of their dog or cat is not often a priority. I get that. It’s the reason I only get hired to do two or three of these a year.

But I also spoke to a couple this weekend who seemed genuinely interested, sharing photos and asking about timelines, shipping, and specific details. This was after they’d heard the price, which is always a good sign. They wanted it in my whimsical style, and their dog has a great face and character. I want to paint him.  Even if that possible commission never materializes, my next important client or avid collector could be standing in front of me at any time. That Luna painting? Six months after I first spoke with him, he hired me for the piece, and it was one of the best client experiences of my career.

Listen to people. Ask questions. You’ll discover why certain pieces connect with people and how to use that knowledge for future sales. I learn a lot from my customers. I’ll soon start a painting of an animal I wouldn’t have considered on my own. It must be trending because at least a dozen people (not kidding) have independently asked for it this year. I don’t get it, but I’m going to paint it because I’m clearly missing something.Ask people where they’re from, especially in a tourist town. I met people from all over the world this weekend.

One gentleman said he was from a town in Saskatchewan, and “you probably don’t know it.”But I asked, and then told him that I’m the editorial cartoonist for his local paper and have been for years. He and his wife know one of Shonna’s uncles because her large extended family is from the same area.  People like to tell you about themselves, and it’s nice to give them the opportunity, not just for the sales, but to connect with another human being, something we all missed more than we realized the last few years.

Celebrate the little things that make it fun. I reluctantly confess I found myself singing along to Christmas carols. It might have involved toe-tapping. Those who know me well…close your mouths. I know it’s shocking that this Grinch found a little holiday spirit. Damn that Mariah Carey!

Plenty of happy dogs (and puppies!) were walking around, and their people were most accommodating with requests to say Hello. It made my weekend.  Want an overdose of pure joy? A Bernese Mountain puppy. Take what you want from my booth; I’m no longer paying attention.

While this advice sounds easy, we’re human. People make mistakes. I have complained to a neighbour. I’ve allowed a problem to frustrate me instead of working on it. I’ve talked politics with someone and always wished I hadn’t. I’ve failed to ask for or declined help when it was readily available, usually out of stubborn pride. I have seen somebody who could have used my help but didn’t offer it because I was busy with my booth.

But making course corrections is easier than people think. Most of the time, it’s just a choice.

If you and I have encountered each other at a market or show, whether you’re a customer or visitor to my booth or a fellow vendor, I hope it was a good experience. And if so, I hope to see you again down the road. If you have any questions I can answer, post them in the comments. I’ll help if I can.

If you attended this year’s Banff Christmas Market and took some of my whimsical wildlife home with you, thanks for supporting a local artist. I love my work, and I hope you do, too.

Cheers
Patrick

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A Genial Grizzly

Winter reared its ugly head this week in Alberta, and I’m already feeling the blues. It happens every year, but painting a happy face usually puts me in a better mood. Grizzly Bearapy. It’s an effective prescription.

For my primary reference for this piece, I selected a few I took during a day with Berkley at Discovery Wildlife Park several years ago. It was the same day I took the reference for my Peanuts painting. But I also referenced other grizzly bears to vary the features.

Half of my business is editorial cartooning; for that work, my clients are newspapers. That’s a business model that was on shaky ground already when I got into it a couple of decades ago. Today, many papers are hanging on by their fingernails. Despite that, it’s still worth my time and effort to draw five or six syndicated editorial cartoons each week for several publications across Canada.

However, I shouldn’t need to explain why that could change tomorrow.

About thirteen years ago, anticipating the day when editorial cartooning would no longer be enough to provide a full-time income, I looked for ways to diversify. With a steady decline in newspaper revenue in recent years, it was a good call. Thankfully, my whimsical wildlife paintings became the other half of my career and business, which still has plenty of growth potential.

While neither part of my business is presently enough on its own, together, they’re my full-time job.

It can be easy to get complacent and coast when things are going well enough. But life can turn on a dime, and the things we think only happen to other people can quickly happen to any one of us.

I’m an unapologetic pessimist; there’s no sense denying it. I’ve had too many plans scuttled by someone else’s decisions, so I don’t take anything for granted. One year, I lost nine papers in one day because a newspaper chain sold. When the pandemic hit, I lost even more. I’ve had licensing and other opportunities vanish overnight when corporations changed direction or personnel.

As we’re all aware, companies are quick to talk about trust and loyalty when convenient, but their actions often walk a different path.
Though this painting was fun to do, as are most of my whimsical wildlife pieces, it was a commercial decision. It’s the first in a series of paintings I’m creating to promote my work to new licensing clients. It’s also another painting for the bear book.

If you’re a self-employed artist, don’t put all your eggs in one basket, especially relevant in today’s economy.

By the end of this week, I’ll have drawn seven editorial cartoons, finished this grizzly bear painting, worked on a pet portrait commission, written content for the book, created page layouts so my publisher can get pricing estimates, and done month-end invoicing and bookkeeping.

All are necessary to keep my business viable but also prevent monotony. By having different things on which to focus, I’ve always got something else I can be doing. Painting grizzly bear fur and features for three hours is delightful—eight hours, not so much.

So it’s nice to make progress on a painting in the morning, then switch to drawing an editorial cartoon, sort and select photo reference, read some marketing material, research and reach out to potential new licenses, plan for upcoming gift shows, or write a post like this one.

Then, when I return to the painting the next day, it’ll be with fresh eyes to correct any errors and add more life to the piece for a few more hours. I get to enjoy the work I love most without allowing it to become a yoke I resent.

Cheers,
Patrick

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New Prints and Final Prep

Despite a few last-minute details, I’ve finished most of my prep for the Calgary Expo, including some stranger preparations most people don’t think about, like spraying my tablecloths and grid wall fabric with a fresh treatment of fire retardant. It’s like any other kind of insurance or safety requirement; it seems unnecessary until somebody checks or something bad happens.
They forewarn vendors about the regulations and that the Fire Marshal is on scene at this event, so better safe than sorry. Last year they stopped at my booth and asked if my lights were halogen. Thankfully, I was using LED bulbs.

At several shows, I’ve often heard some vendors express relief at getting just enough sales to cover their booth cost. But that’s only a small part of the expense of an event like this.

The Calgary Expo sees 90,000 people over four days; it’s a big show with over 800 exhibitors. My corner retail booth costs over $1200. Electrical power is $135.00, parking for five days is $66, and my hotel for four nights is over $600.00.

Liability and booth insurance for this one event is $88. I write my mileage off over the year, so I don’t consider gas in my show expenses, but depending on whether you bring your food or eat at restaurants, that can add up.

My equipment and display hardware are multiple-year expenses, so I don’t calculate that per show. But even before I stock the booth with stickers, magnets, coasters, prints, puzzles, aluminum, canvas and metal prints, my corner retail booth in the Exhibition Hall at the Calgary Expo costs over $2100. I don’t make any money at this show until I’ve sold that much.

Even then, every item I sell has a cost. Professional printing, cellophane sleeves, backer boards, artist bios and shipping are deducted from each print sale before there is a profit—the same for other products.

But a show like this one is well worth the investment.

“What’s new this year?” is something I hear a lot at Expo.

I’m always painting new images, so I invite people to scan the walls and flip through the bins because that’s the best way to discover the latest pieces, and sometimes they’ll find one they didn’t see last time.

But with quite a few new poster prints this year, here they are. They’re each hand-signed, and 11”X14” which includes the white border. It’s an easy to find size at most stores that sell frames. The title, website and signature stamp are not on the actual print.  The following paintings were not available at last year’s Expo.


While the Tarantula and Angry Bear might not appeal to everybody, I ordered those prints specifically for this event. If there’s an audience for these paintings, it will be at The Calgary Expo. I’m looking forward to the reaction, as I like both pieces.
For many of my paintings, it takes some settling time after I complete them before I know if I really like them. Of these most recent paintings, I realized that Bugle Boy, my painting of a bull elk, might be a personal favourite. I don’t know if it’s the texture I painted in his rack, the personality or the colour, but I loved seeing this piece in print, and I hadn’t expected that.

It’ll be interesting to see if it resonates with anybody else.

I’ve only got a few canvas prints this year, but a couple of dozen matte metal in 12”X16” and 18”X24”. Because I already had a nice selection of those in my inventory, I only ordered five new ones on 12”X16” metal. I can, however, custom order any of my paintings on metal or canvas at any time, in a variety of sizes.

I’m a much better painter than photographer, so the print colour, clarity and detail are always much better in person than in photos. Here are the new 12″X16″ metal prints, ready to hang.
Many people buy four-day passes for this show, but others come for only one day. Saturday is the leader when it comes to crowd volume and sales. All four days are usually good, but I’m trying out some daily specials for the other three this year.

DAILY SPECIALS
Thursday:  A free high-quality vinyl sticker with every print purchase.
Friday:  $20 OFF any matte metal or canvas print.
Sunday:  A free gift with purchase of $25 or more.

Of course, if you’re a repeat customer, you can mention any of these specials on any day of the show, and I’ll happily reward your loyalty.

If you’ve been in my booth before, there’s an excellent chance I’ll remember you. I’m great with faces but not so much with names. So please stop by and say Hello, and (re)introduce yourself, especially if you’re a subscriber to A Wilder View and we’ve never met. I always love to say Thank You in person.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Whose Art Is It Anyway?

In 2008, I hosted the Canadian Editorial Cartoonists Conference in Banff. Several industry veterans who attended came up in a culture where busy unionized daily newspapers hired editorial cartoonists for impressive salaries, benefits, and pensions. I began my career at the end of all that.

I put a lot of work into the conference and preparing a Photoshop drawing class, trying to impress and curry favour with the more established cartoonists in this exclusive club. But, unfortunately, I realized too late that nobody cared. They were simply looking for an excuse to visit Banff, hang out and talk shop. It was about nostalgia, politics, and competitors fishing for information.

I wanted to improve my skills and artwork and learn how to adapt to a struggling industry, but many of them were focused on avoiding having to change. In fact, in the wrap-up, one of the more senior cartoonists loudly promised there wouldn’t be any Photoshop drawing classes at the next conference.

Clearly, I didn’t belong in this group.

In 2009, I attended another conference, the National Association of Photoshop Professionals in Las Vegas. I had been a member of this supportive online community for several years. Critiques were constructive, questions were answered with enthusiasm, and I learned more from that association than any before or since.

Fresh off that first Photoshop World conference,  inspired to try something new, I painted a funny looking grizzly bear, my first whimsical wildlife portrait.

I went to that conference five times between 2009 and 2014. In 2010 and 2014, I won multiple Guru Awards for my animal paintings, including two Best in Show awards. The classes and instructors, the community of friends and colleagues, it was time and money well spent.

At Photoshop World, I made valuable business connections. For a long time after, I had a welcome working relationship with Wacom, the company that makes the drawing tablets and displays I’ve used for the past 25 years. I recorded two training DVDs for PhotoshopCAFE, and NAPP helped me form a strong foundation for my creative skills.

Eventually, social media killed the forum, and the organization rebranded. As a result, NAPP no longer exists, and the Photoshop World conference is a ghost of its former self.

Time spent pining for the way things used to be is a waste. Adaptation is the most useful skill a self-employed artist can have.

While licensing and retailers are essential for my business, those customers each have their own ideas of what they want from my work. One retailer wants more bears; another wants more wolves. One agency wants me to follow seasonal trends; another client wants more realistic animals. Some products sell better with brighter, more colourful elements, and some without a background. Some items work better with a vertical layout, others horizontal.

Most artists have heard they should find their niche, the work that makes them unique and different from everybody else. It’s the key to survival in a crowd where a lot of art looks the same. But if you work hard and are lucky enough to discover the work that defines you, the next piece of advice you hear is that you need to make it appeal to everyone all the time.

Well, which is it?

How do you create work you enjoy enough to keep doing it year after year and continue to make it pay? How do you serve your customers and clients and allow their input and direction without changing your work so much that it’s no longer yours? Is it artwork or factory work?

When it becomes a grind or just about pumping out more images, it can take all the joy out of it. Lately, finishing some paintings has brought the same sense of accomplishment I get from cleaning the house. That’s a telltale sign of burnout. I’ve been here before, more than once. It’s a common experience with anyone who creates anything, especially if it’s their job, a warning that something’s got to give.

I know how to paint a single animal. I’ve put almost fifteen years into it. Each takes hours to paint, and the work I’m doing now is better than I’ve ever done, but it’s still the same style and (shudder) formula. It’s not as challenging or fulfilling as it used to be.

I’ve taken a new approach with the trio of giraffes, already titled “Long Neck Buds.” I don’t know if it will work the way I imagine it, but if it does, it will be the first of several I plan to paint this way.

This latest individual giraffe isn’t quite a finished piece, but it’s close. It will also be the middle giraffe in the painting based on the group sketch above. With the simple background, it’s a solid painting on its own. I’ll paint the other two individually, like this first one, with my usual high detail, then I’ll place them all together. Finally, I’ll paint the sky, clouds and leaves around them.

I’m a commercial artist, it’s how I make my living. I don’t pretend otherwise. But this is also supposed to be fun. I want to paint more detailed and elaborate images I’ll enjoy while also leaving options open for clients and licenses with different needs.

I want to create more paintings this way—a troop of meerkats, several burrowing owls, and a waddle of penguins. I could paint different species in an image. However, with each critter as detailed as my usual work, these will take longer than a single painting, requiring a more substantial investment in each piece.

I get nervous when spending too much time on one painting, likely due to many years of drawing editorial cartoons. Twenty years ago, when almost nobody was publishing my work, I would spend many hours nitpicking a cartoon, trying to get a caricature right or fussing with perspective. Shonna and I referred to these as Sistine Chapel cartoons. I had to train myself to say, “good enough.”

Most political cartoons have a short shelf life, so speed is essential. Get it done, get it out, and get started on the next one. My cartoon work pays monthly bills.

With a painting, however, the income can come anywhere from next week to next year. Pieces I painted ten years ago are still paying today. Paintings are an investment in future prints, products and licensing, income that often comes later.

This year, I’m making time to play and experiment.

I’ll share works in progress, sketches, and thoughts along the way, but fewer finished pieces. The ones I do complete will be bigger and hopefully worth waiting for. Of course, I expect I’ll still paint a single animal here and there if the mood strikes me.

11” X14” poster prints will come out only a couple of times a year rather than as I complete them. With higher shipping costs, I imagine that it won’t be a problem for collectors of my work to be able to order two or three new pieces at a time with one shipping cost.But I’ll still welcome custom metal and canvas special order prints. You can order those by email anytime. The above 18”x24” sloth on canvas and 20″x20” Blue Beak Raven on metal below are two custom orders that arrived this week.The puzzles I launched this year felt like a considerable risk, but I sold a lot of them and have received requests for more. I’m suddenly motivated to plan paintings that will work as prints, puzzles, stickers and more. I’m also exploring puzzle licensing opportunities.

In the meantime, my collection of more than 100 paintings will continue to pay the bills with prints and licensing, as will drawing daily editorial cartoons, for as long as newspapers hang on.

I’m not having any fun. That needs to change.

Cheers,
Patrick