Back in the olden days (or the mid 2000s, depending on your vantage point), when I was at University, business planning and marketing education for artists was fairly thin on the ground. At the end of my degree, we were sent to New Designers. It’s a degree show in London. And I think it’s common practice for tutors to send their best students, but ours sent all of us, because they valued community over competition. It was scary and also fun. Our work was showcased to the public and also industry people; gallery owners, people running art programmes, and the like. I actually got my very first jobs there- mostly window displays in London: one in Canary Wharf and one at Harvey Nichols’ flagship store. New Designers also had a programme of talks for artists. I signed up for all of them, eager to learn.

One of them was about marketing, something I knew very little about. In actuality, it was a networking opportunity. The organisers literally had us introduce ourselves to the left and right, ad nauseam, making sales pitches. It was my worst nightmare. I am socially awkward at the best of times. And I went away thinking that’s what marketing was; the loudest, or most obnoxious, voice wins.

Much later, I read a marketing book called The Art Of Shouting Quietly, by Pete Mosley. I think it’s a really good book if you’re struggling with self confidence or imposter syndrome, but I’m not sure it’s useful for introverts. I didn’t connect with it in the way I expected to. Afterwards I joined a course run by The Design Trust, and I found an invaluable source of knowledge about how to run a small business from friendly and delightfully no nonsense Patricia Van Den Akker and Anne-Marie Francis.

The best type of marketing for a small business is word of mouth, and that’s where I find my first hurdle, because art shows and craft fairs are great for this. The last show I did, The Great Northern Contemporary Craft Fair, I have participated in three times. It’s a really friendly and fabulously run event, it is local to me, and I always know several makers participating in the show every single year. It is the perfect set of circumstances for as easy and nice an experience this shy little hermit could ever dream of. I can’t drive, so my dad very kindly acted as my chauffeur. And my sister was on hand throughout the entire show, selflessly rescheduling her actual job and relocating for four days to Manchester, just in case I needed a break to delay an inevitable panic attack. I had really intense nightmares for weeks before the show, and my anxiety levels were sky high. My hearing isn’t great either, which added another barrier to interacting with people. At one point the fabulous Anne-Marie from The Design Trust visited my stand, and very kindly took a photo of me in my stand to share on social media. I hoped I was passing as a normal human, and smiled for the photo. Me and my sister both laughed when we saw it afterwards on her Instagram stories. I looked terrified. I was not convincing anybody that I was glad to be there. My high levels of anxiety during the show meant that I crashed immediately after it was over. My sister literally bundled me into the car. I didn’t leave the house for at least a month afterwards. Something tells me I’m not cut out for art shows and events!