Nobody is coming to see a gallery. They are coming to see the place the work is made in, which means the paint on the floor and the failed canvas against the wall are not things to hide. They are the reason for the visit. What you do need to fix is everything that makes a visitor uncomfortable or lost, and that is a much shorter list than most artists think.
Work through this in three passes: two weeks out, the day before, and the hour before.
Pick ten to fifteen pieces, not everything you own. One wall becomes the main wall and gets your strongest work at eye height, with real space around each piece. Everything else can lean, stack or hang as it normally does.
Fifteen works that can breathe beat forty crammed together. If someone can see the whole room in one glance, they stop looking.
The half finished canvas, the studies pinned up with tape, the version you gave up on. Leave all of it. This is the single biggest difference between your studio and a shop, and it is what people remember afterwards. Do not tidy your process away.
Every piece that is for sale, with a price, on one sheet of paper. You do not have to hang it. You do have to have it, because the alternative is doing arithmetic in your head while someone watches you.
Mark clearly which pieces are not for sale. “That one is not for sale” is a perfectly good sentence and it does not cost you anything.
Someone should be able to walk from the door to the main wall without stepping over anything, and stand two or three metres back from the work. That distance matters more than anything else in this list. Move the table if you have to.
Daylight is your friend, so plan visits when the room gets it. If you are relying on lamps, check the wall in the evening the day before, not five minutes before someone knocks. A single warm bulb aimed at a wall of grey paintings will make them look muddy and you will not notice until it is too late.
This is where most visits go wrong. Studios are in industrial buildings with unmarked doors and broken buzzers, and your visitor is standing outside with a phone in their hand feeling stupid.
Send this in a message the day before, in plain sentences. Not “second floor” but “the green metal door next to the laundrette, buzzer 4, we are two flights up on the left”.
Not a speech. Three sentences you can say when someone walks in and there is a silence:
Say them out loud once, in the room, before anyone arrives. It feels ridiculous and it works.
Stand in the doorway and look at the room the way a stranger would. Anything that makes you wince, deal with it. Anything that just makes you self conscious, leave it. Those are two different feelings and only the first one is worth acting on.
A step by step guide to starting an art collection: how to train your eye, set a budget, decide where to look, buy your...
Buy what you love is good advice and hard to act on. Here is a practical way to choose art you will still want to look a...
Three replies you can copy: someone is interested, someone asks the price, someone wants to come by. Plus what not to do...
New writing, open studio dates, and the date of the first HEYATELIER Weekend in New York. Unsubscribe in one click.
You confirm by email. We never share your address.
© HEYATELIER, 2026 All rights reserved.