How To Select A Tattoo Artist
The only question as important, or more important than choosing the perfect Tattoo , is How To Select A Tattoo Artist. It doesnt matter if you find the perfect Tattoo , the one that will alway’s be the best representation of you and the story of your life, if the Tattoo artist is less than sufficient to create the Tat itself. Artist selection is definitely just as important as choosing the Tattoo itself, but how can we know which one to trust?
Well, unfortunately , tattoo’s arent like paintings or other artwork done on a physical canvas. Even though skin is definitely a physical canvas of sort’s, it cant be hung on a wall somewhere, whether it be the Tattoo artist’s office or a gallery somewhere. It if was, we could simply browse through past work and get a real idea of the Tattoo Artists ability.
What about picture’s of past work?
That is the number 1 question I am asked when discussing how to select a tattoo artist. And yes, pictures do help. They will let you know the drawing skills of the that artist. But pictures are usually taken immediatley after the Tattoo is finished, or soon there-after. But that isnt always a true measure of the Artist’s talent. There is a reason for this…
Tattoo’s and skin change.
How many time’s have we seen a great looking tattoo on one of our friends or acquaintance’s, and later on down the road, not too far down the road, they are back at the Tattoo Studio getting the Tattoo reworked. We all know that Tattoo reworks over time arent neccessarily a sign of an inept Tattoo artist, but sometimes the reason’s for the rework are definitely a sign, a bad sign.
When asked “How to select a Tattoo Artist”, the number 1 answer is a common answer to many of the talent inqueries we face. And the answer it’s pretty simple.
Ask past customers.
Asking someone about the Artist a few years down the road could be the very best way to find out an artist’s ability. You can ask the important questions like,
Is the shop clean and sterile? – (Its just a good sign of a professional) Did you feel comfortable? How long did the Tattoo Take to finish? Were there any problems during the Tattoo work? Was the Tattoo Artist limited in the style of work he/she could perform? Did the color of the Tat stay? Did it keep its original look? Have you had reworks done out of necessity? Biggest Question – Are you satisfied with the overall look of the Tattoo and its appearance?
Get Real Customers Reviews On Tattoo Artist from Around The World!
Now there are obviously many more question’s you will want to ask once you are narrowing your search. But being able to get answer’s like these to the “How to select a tattoo artist?” question will be a huge help. Finding out what previous customer’s think about the work done can be critical.
But what if you cant find any customers? What if you just dont know who to ask?
Thats O.K. there are cool tattoo community’s online that can answer questions about Tattoo studios and Tattoo Artist’s from coast to coast, or even from other countries.(Not just Canada and Mexico either)
But you gotta know where to look. Finding that kind of information isnt always easy. I mean, not everyine has the ability to gather that type of information on 1 site. But I know of 1 Tattoo Site that can provide information on all the major Tattoo Studio’s and Tattoo Artist’s from all over the globe. Dont worry, its not gonna cost you all kind’s of money.
And better yet, it also comes with plenty of the best artwork from real customers and Tatoo Artist’s. Yep, thats right, some of the best Tattoo artist from all over post there Art so others can see what they can do. It just might be the most valued asset on the internet.
Think about it, The Top Tattoo Artists posting FREE Tattoo Art for you to see and use as well. When you sign up for this site you will have instant access to other customers from the state of your choice. Telling you all the answers to those important questions that will decide whether or not you end up with a premium tattoo , or an embarrasing ink spot on your precious skin.
If you want access to the only Tattoo Artist review site on the internet, Follow The Link Below
Black and white photography (and, latterly, colour photography) always emphasises the dividing line marking the intersection between time(s) and space(s), the intersection and interpenetration of today and yesterday, today and tomorrow – of my life and someone else’s. It points to the event experienced by a person (someone we know or don’t know, myself, just someone, nature, or society as a whole) at the moment when my attention is directed at the rectangular frame recording that which has already been and gone and which is yet present in my life just so long as I am looking at (remembering) it.
Those who turn our life, the reality of our experience, into photographic images measure it as a news reporter does, give it aesthetic order as does a film director, and ‘set up’ frames to ‘please the eye’ – just as the archivist who acts as custodian of the past. And yet sometimes subordination to the past (not to history, i.e. not to past time in the form of events) turns out to be too confining a role for the photographer and he becomes an Artist. An Artist who subordinates to himself and his will time, space, and the reality of time and space, directing the facial expressions of the main actors in his art – i.e. time (considered as a flow of passing moments) and events. In his hands the camera, negatives/positives, exhibits, and other tools of trade become instruments in the attainment of higher goals. This is how it was that at some point in his photographic career Andrey Chezhin became not a master of artistic photography or some particular genre of photography, but an artist uplifted by the coloured wings of the style of our age – that style which the critics love to slate, postmodernism.
Andrey Chezhin’s reincarnation occurred in the not so distant past, against the background of historic events that had broken the consciousness of generations condemned to witness the change of course undergone by the giant ghost ship USSR-Russia as it turned from socialism to capitalism and from total paralysis of its executive structures to idiocy.
It was only natural that the consciousness of the photographer/artist-to-be should energetically throw off torpidity and slip out of its old skin. Simple recording of social reality accompanied by clicks of the camera shutter gave way to interest in staged photography and experiments with exhibits (sometimes as many as three or more). Furthermore, Chezhin needed a suitable object of investigation – complete with hands, legs, and heads etc.; and this, for lack of other candidates prepared to surrender themselves to the required extent, turned out to be the artist himself, ever obedient to and trustful of his own direction. It was at this time, at the end of the 1980s, that Chezhin’s first composite works – Black Square (1988) and Red Square (1990) – made their appearance. These, of course, referred to Kazimir Malevich, a recent exhibition of whose works at the RussianMuseum had triumphantly signalled a new era in the history of art and, more specifically, the lifting of taboos on interest in various stages in the development of 20th-century art.
Black Square and Red Square are, as already noted, composite works, each being made up of four parts. They were conceived by Chezhin not as a photographic series or a frame by frame sequence, as in film, but as structural works where each part is no more than a brick supporting the overall equilibrium of the entire structure. The main character here is man. In the first case, man is depicted with a black square on his forehead/brain; in the second, he is shown taking off the fetters that bind him.
The first part of Red Square shows an individual standing upright with arms held out horizontally and legs placed wide apart. His figure is hemmed in (drawn round) at its extremities – which form the end points of a geometrical shape – by a line/rope which calls to mind Leonardo’s quest for the ‘golden section’ in the proportions of the human body. The red square contains all the space whose contours are marked and defined by the rope-line; and the man is himself enclosed in this space. Then, in the next two parts of this work, he manages to free himself from the rope as his head, arms, and legs are liberated in turn, while, at the same time, the area of control exercised by the red square on the surface of the photograph grows progressively narrower. Finally, in the last part of this work, the rope/measure is seen lying inside he artist’s workshop on a sheet of paper, within the red square. The viewer becomes a witness of how a cultural symbol – the ‘red square’, Malevich, Suprematism, etc. – is transformed into a sociocultural one: the man casts off the rope – which initially marks the contours of a star (head, arms, legs) – and liberates himself from the red, i.e. throws off ideology (the rope/fetters/red – a sign of danger, as we remember). The red is overcome; man is free.
It was at this time, i.e. at the end of the 1980s – to be more exact, in 1988 – that Chezhin embarked on a series of self-portraits which is unfinished to this day. The artist photographs himself – with hair, without hair, with his wife, with a ruler; photographs his hands (in Erotica); photographs himself, himself, and himself. At the same time he started working on ‘types’ for his series Portraits (1990) and was continuing to record social reality (material that would be used in Pairs, a series executed in 1987-1990-1997).
Chezhin’s absurd, significant, and meaningless staged photographs of nameless types/characters give off a powerful, unpleasant semiphysiological sense/memory of a past age of male and female functionaries and workers stamped with the distinctive marks of the limited, if not curtailed consciousness of social invalidism. Here Chezhin’s photography emphatically avoids any attempt to convey the psychological state or mood of the subject; this is photography that stands outside pyschoanalysis or psychologism, outside any expression of the ‘psychical’. These are still-lifes where things (objects) are credited with neither spirit nor personal time, nor personal experience or living space or ‘physiognomy’. Individuality has been ironed out, leaving only the overall characteristic grimace of types in socialist society. This is what they managed to achieve in the 70 years of Soviet rule. And Chezhin the artist here merely reflects the success enjoyed by the now deposed ideology in shaping the Soviet personality.
It is personality shaping that in my opinion is the subject of the series of works entitled Kharmsiada executed in 1995 for an exhibition called ‘The absurd object. An exhibition of presents by St Petersburg artists to D. Kharms in honour of the 100th anniversary of his birthday’.
A brick face, facial features shorn off or sewn up with thread, a face transformed by a door handle or a drawing-pin: these and other pleasures associated with methods of forming ‘new people’ are used by Chezhin in this series to present a kind of handbook for incipient power-lovers or a diary of obedience – a warning to the ‘masses’, i.e. to precisely that material from which, it should be noted, all this is moulded. Man turns to plastic, Chezhin warns us, if he stops thinking and resisting the will outside him – if he forgets his own authenticity, essence, and individuality.
Especially interesting from this point of view is Chezhin’s work on the creation of his epoch-making The Life of Drawing-Pins, which comprises the series Album for Drawing-Pins and The Drawing-Pin and Modernism. The drawing pin and its fellows are, as it turns out, highly convenient main characters in instances taken from daily experience/recording, absurd situations supplied by the artist and the reality that surrounds him. The unitary nature of the hero of the piece gives Chezhin unprecedented freedom to destroy individuality while setting up his own mythologised drawing-pin world, absurd to the point of recognizability, and while allowing the viewer to reach the conclusion – only partly forced upon us by Chezhin himself – that ‘we are all drawing-pins, my dear sirs … ’.
Chezhin’s interest in personal expressions of humanity no doubt explains the constant use he makes of the genre of self-portraiture. Here we should observe a number of different stages in the artist’s study of himself as a representative of the human and natural worlds and of reality itself: generalization; reduction to a common denominator; and individualization of the image (himself). Here there is no opposition set up between ‘me’ and ‘they’. Chezhin is not concerned with asking himself ‘me or someone else?’; instead, he is out to find an answer to the problem ‘me’ as ‘they’. He studies man viewed statically – not in action and movement, but in the movement/change of time. What is important for him is the nature of man and the human body – not anatomy or anthropology as such, but man in his different dimensions, self-knowledge, and self-realizations (whether with a ruler or with or without hair).
The self-portraits of various different years, series, and cycles contain an element of play which comes out at transitional moments involving switches between, say, action/reality, artist/man, reality/photographic reality/artistic reality/deception/the reality of the artist’s desire and of his creative effort and destiny.
In all the photographs in the series Self-Portraits (1988-1997), Andrey Chezhin’s face is identical: the scarcely perceptible changes escape attention – even though Chezhin slips in, among the pile of material to be examined by the viewer, versions of himself both with and without hair. This deliberate recording of something intentionally, emphatically identical puts us on edge, causes our eyes to slow and steady in their tracks …
As Modernism and Postmodernism have developed art has frequently in one way or another confronted and dealt with issues relating to time, space, and movement as process. Man, the human body and its parts, and the face as that which expresses and contains man’s essence have been recurring subjects for all kinds of artists and an object of general art discourse. But the only example that comes to mind of an artist engaging in thorough self-examination and meticulous recording of himself, his ‘I’, and his face as the image of that ‘I’ dates to the 18th century and Mr. Rembrandt’s self-portraits depicting mood, grimaces, etc.
For Chezhin the human being (the ‘I’) is an object in changing time and changed temporal space (which is practically non-existent), where the emphasis is on paradox, e.g. on the non-obligatory, casual nature of a situation, on the one hand, and the significance of the moment recorded and its recording, on the other.
Another feature of Andrey Chezhin’s interest in man (himself; the ‘I’ of his self-portraits) is the self-sufficient way in which, quite independently of everything external, the ‘I’ dissolves in a second person’s world and that other person’s world dissolves in the ‘I’ (here I could mention the three 1991 series called Your-mine, where female and male elements merge into a unified ‘I’). Here the ‘I’ is the artist’s ‘I’ and that of his wife. The viewer is presented with a conflict-free interpenetration of the male and that which has its beginning in woman, in nature. In Chezhin’s work the self-portrait and depiction of man is an inexhaustible topic with many typical features. one other such feature is Chezhin’s use of sociocultural signs and their symbolic resonances – e.g. the red square, the black square, the rope, man, a recognizable urban landscape.
Chezhin’s series of self-portraits present life as a series of changes in the artist. His multi-part work of self-observation Calendar (1990-1991) depicts a series of situations/days/incidences – in other words, routine daily life, – examining the idea of temporal changes experienced by a static subject in a situation where measurement of the passing of time is veiled. These works grow in time, with time, and with the artist.
In every structure/work created by Andrey Chezhin social reality undergoes change and there is a movement from state to state, a sliding before and after, an imperceptible movement from edge to edge. The series Pairs (1987-1997), for instance, comprises sheets composed in 1997 from pairs of snap photographs taken over the period 1987-1990. Together, they form a collection of works that are sign-like and legible. Their meaning is accessible on the basis of associations and sensations as Chezhin exploits mechanisms of perception, alogism, absurdity, logic, and direct and reverse sense-formation. Take, for example, the sheet Why am I not Fond of Moscow? At the top of this piece Chezhin has placed a photographic trick – a superimposition of one of Chechulin’s skyscrapers and a spreading birch tree. At the bottom, under the beautiful pattern formed by the branches of a shrub, a dead dog is seen lying on the ground. What could give a clearer or more expressive impression of the artist’s lack of fondness for this city? The double denials, the absurd semantic situations, the fidelity of the image to reality, and the plastic coincidences /references: all this explodes correct, logical reasoning and judgement and finds an echo in the tonally correct way in which these pairs are perceived by the viewer. This is true of other sheets in the series too.
In his composite, multi-structure, cyclical work Transformations (1991-1997; cyclical in as much as a repetitive rhythm of beginning-end, beginning-end runs throughout) Chezhin sets up horizontal rows/films/moments. The heroes of these films are unchanging; what changes is the space around them, their surroundings, and the conditions governing the game or existence in which they are taking part. For example, Chezhin photographs the granite sphere on the spit of Vasil’evsky Island from all sides. And, seen from every side, the sphere is a sphere, but the space in which it is set changes dramatically round about – from ripples on water to architectural landscape.There could be no better illustration of Matyushin’s theory of ‘expanded looking’. Or take the sequence of clocks(street mechanisms/objects) photographed at particular moments in time. Here the main character is time and its attributes – dials, hands, and the structures that encase clock mechanisms. Or the subject could be seen as a film sequence: road-legs-road. And so on. In this composite work each line is a question whose resolution is possible only for the given artist; a question/problem, moreover, which is to be dealt with not so much by resolving it as by living it through. Here you will find all the eternal questions posed by art in the 20th century: identification of oneself and the world in oneself; cognition of oneself and the outside world; examination of the basic categories for constructing (and creating) the reality of one’s embodiment; the main questions of life and eternity; play in accordance with the laws of existence and contexts for such play; incidentalness and regularity. Finally, this work succeeds in personifying a sense of change in time and space and in space in time.
The photographic world created by the photographer and artist Andrey Chezhin likewise has room for the art of the comic strip, for a physiognomic constructor, for St Petersburg-as-city-and-text, and for geometric studies a la Esher. This world is vast, paradoxical, sometimes alogical (from the point of view of the ordinary person) – but fascinating. It is a space that acts like a vortex: you only have to take the first step in its direction, become a little interested, and you find yourself unable to stop looking, you lose your way out as you blunder about the labyrinth of the artist’s consciousness, jumping from level to level, from one series of works to another, colliding with enigmas, laws, traps set by the carefully watching artist – and you gradually come to realize that the main hero of Chezhin’s works is time. Time for him is an important category by which we get to know – and record – the world. It divides into seconds, moments, instants, units of experience. Time sets like a sticky, viscous mass or flows freely like a homogeneous substance – liquid, elastic, fluid. In the Self-Portraits of 1988-1997 time is an existential substance, an attribute of history and of the historical development of society and of man as representative of this society and as a part of its culture. The artist is able to move about in time; and this becomes one of the ludic features of his work (the presence of the physical in real and non-real space; the artist’s almost comic right to choose his own contemporaries – and their deeds – for himself). Likewise, he is able to impose simultaneity on events which are separated in time, as in the works Group Self-Portrait (1994) and Visiting Bulla (1994).
Time for Andrey Chezhin is expressed in specific objects. In his hands it is something with clearly marked, definite boundaries. These boundaries, though, are in the dimension not of man, but of history, in the specific time/happening of a given event in the history of this country and in abstract time in general, in the archaic, timeless, stagnant changelessness of man’s presence in the world as he sets about discovering his own dimension. For Chezhin even today time is divided up into the smallest elements/units that flash past seen through a train window or on the screen of a television, computer, or other chronometric miracle of the kind that devours human time, genius, and intuition.
It is the movement of time that defines the characteristic space of Chezhin’s works. In them space is real at every unit of time, but unreal, phantasmagoric, spectral at each post-unit of time-after-this-moment.
Space perceived, experienced, and recorded by equipment and man during the passing of time is in the power of the artist. This space changes at every moment of the advance of time, at every moment that this time is experienced by man, through the experiencing of this time in this space. The artist confronts the viewer not with the deformation of space, but with space that is changed over an extensive stretch of time.
There is nothing accidental in Chezhin’s choice of compositional structure for his works. As a rule, they are composite structures that show man through multiplicity (e.g. Group Portrait or Transformations). The framework of these pieces is a living structure whose active influence is felt only when its various elements form a semantic, plastic link with one another. This link then becomes sensible; the elements of the structure feed and fuel one another.
Time, space, man, object, play are the perpetual engines that drive the Petersburg photographer Andrey Chezhin’s interest in attaining an equilibrium in the relation between ‘the external world’ and‘the world in oneself’. The artist uses his craft and photography as instruments. The photographer Andrey Chezhin is an artist of the end of the 20th century, the heyday of Postmodernism.
The English language is extremely rich, and provides the possibility of precise communication. Our language evolves rapidly, and while some new expressions emerge to describe modern life, many existing words have their common usage modified and corrupted. The term “Artist” provides a good example.
As a young boy, I dreamed of becoming an Artist, and that single word proficiently expressed my desire to paint and draw. Today I am a professional Artist, but have to qualify my title with an explanation.
My aging 1990 concise Oxford dictionary defines an “Artist” firstly as a painter (of pictures).
The word immediately before Artist is “Artisan”, meaning a skilled (manual) worker.
The word immediately after Artist is “Artiste”, meaning a professional performer, especially a singer or dancer.
The terms Artisan and Artiste are rarely used today. Our language has evolved, and “Artist” has become a generic word applied to any person who expresses their self through any medium.
The connection between artists and painting has become so diluted that the word is increasingly used to denote “skilled” people in non-”arts” activities, such as “scam artist” (a person very adept at deceiving others), “con artist” (a person very adept at committing fraud), and “p*ss artist” (a person very adept at drinking alcohol).
There is nothing inherently wrong with using the word “Artist” as an all-purpose title, but it does not effectively describe whether you paint, sing, dance, have a manual skill, or are about to empty the drinks cabinet!
So why is it that our language has evolved along these lines? Why would an Artiste or Artisan prefer to use a title that less adequately describes their skill, and invokes ambiguity?
Maybe the change has come about through ignorance, and falling standards of education? Could it be that people think Artiste is the French pronunciation of Artist? Well it is, but Artiste is also an English word with a different meaning – or it was!
Perhaps the change of language is a form of spin doctoring? My dictionary offers a further definition of an Artist as “a person who works with the dedication and attributes of an artist”. It’s not a very good definition, since it effectively it says that an Artist is “someone who works with the dedication and attributes of some one who works with dedication and attributes” (which is a bit like defining sticky tape as – tape that is sticky)! However, if someone is a singing artiste but prefers to be described as an Artist, they are really saying they are more than a singer because they perform with “dedication and attributes”?
Re-defining the word is possibly just a reflection of changing perceptions, and a growing acceptance that art is the act of creation/expression? If we agree to the modern view, which applauds the act of creation rather than the end product, we all become Artists, because we all create something at sometime. This shift of focus from the Artist’s product, to the creative/expressive process severs the necessity for skill, and the title “Artist” is available for use without fear of derision.
I create Portraits for a living. My artwork is not about me expressing my inner self, or being imaginative, but producing a likeness, and working to a client’s specifications. Maybe that makes me an Artisan: a skilled manual worker, and not an Artist after all?
Summary
Here’s the scoop on what you must know when designing a website to showcase your art, impress galleries, and win over collectors. Learn how to avoid the mistakes most emerging artists make when creating their online portfolio.
1.You need an artists website
Any artist who can classify themselves as either “emerging” or “mid-career” will definitely benefit from having their own website to promote their work. At this stage of your career it is important to be able to have a place where anyone in the world can easily access and view your work.
2.Know who you are trying to impress
Are you trying to engage a Soho gallery to sell your $20,000 paintings or sell $5 prints to children in Korea? That Soho gallery might not be impressed when they see your online-store selling prints and art cards – but on the other hand, you could make a very handsome living if you really knew how to market those art cards.
3.Make your website fit with your overall art marketing strategy
A website is most effective when it is part of a larger overall marketing strategy for your art. This includes mailings, lots of in-person gallery visits and presentations, regular (physical) showings of your work, and developing relationships with the art world. An effectively planned website can greatly compliment and simplify your other marketing efforts.
4.There is a real market for art on the internet
The internet is quickly becoming an accepted place to showcase your art to collectors and arts professionals. They might still want to see your work in person before they buy, but the fact remains: they saw it first on your website! Having an online art presence is very important at this time.
5.Have your own website and a website portfolio service
A website portfolio service (e.g. www.absolutearts.com or www.art-exchange.com is like an online slide registry. For a fee you can upload images of your work together with a bio, artist statement, and resume. They have many visitors and are a convenient way to make your work accessible to potential clients. The down side is that they don’t display your work well, and there is little flexibility in how the art is showcased.
Your own website, on the other hand will require more work to promote, but you’ll be able to present the work in the most beautiful way. Remember the times you’ve been taken into the dimmer room in a commercial gallery? How that art which looked fairly good on the main gallery wall suddenly became something you had to take home? That’s how a good artist’s website should showcase your work.
We recommend both options – they are a perfect compliment.
6. Have a website that collectors and art professionals will enjoy
Here are some common elements which most dealers and galleries would agree on for your website design:
- Keep the site simple and elegant with the focus on the art itself and don’t overpower the art with a site that looks too busy
- Avoid advertising such as banner adds or sidebar adds. If you must have them, put them in a separate “resource” section
- Avoid complex effects like flash movies. In the time it takes to play your exotic entry page, your visitor may have moved on. Include your bio, artist statement, resume, contact information, gallery(s) of your work, contact information, and a pricelist.
Showcase your work beautifully
You need to have visual design skills to create a beautiful artist website. Here are some points to get you started:
- Most Important: Use high-quality, professionally-photographed images. Excellence in, excellence out!
- Keep the website simple and elegant with the focus on the art.
- Create multiple galleries to compliment the work – just as a good physical gallery would do.
- Choose colors that compliment (not overpower) the work. Think of the colors you would use in a physical gallery to showcase your work – neutral colors like crème, white, gray, and good safe choices.
- Think “minimalist” not “busy” for the layout.
- Keep your copy (text) brief. Let the art speak for itself!
7.Bring collectors and galleries to your website
Its no use having that stunning website sitting in hyperspace. Make it work for you! Here are the ways to bring quality visitors:
Search Engines: If your website has been well optimized for search engines, a search on your name or your style of art should bring up your website in the first few pages of results.
Letters of Introduction: A letter of introduction sent to a gallery or dealer is a very effective way to bring a qualified visitor to your website. Better still is to include a brochure or postcard of your work with the letter.
Advertising online or in magazines: For example, if your art is minimalist and modern in style, a banner add on an interior design website focused on the same minimalist ethic could draw a lot of traffic to your site.
You need to be able to sell your work on the internet.
But there are many ways to do it. More important than anything is that you have clear and up-to-date contact information on your website. If a buyer likes your work enough to bring out their checkbook, they will normally be happy to call you to close the sale.
It’s also handy to be able to sell directly from your website, especially if you sell lower-cost reproductions. There are simple and cost-effective ways to do this.
8. Think again before designing your own website.
- Have you really added up the total cost? Here are some questions to consider before you start designing:
- Do you have visual design skills/training?
- Can you wait several months for the site to be ready?
- Can you afford to give up a month or more of your valuable artist time?
- Do you have all the computer software and the relatively-new computer needed to build a high-quality website?
- Are you fully trained in your design software?
Can you answer “Yes” to all of the above? If so, you might think about doing it yourself. Otherwise, hire a designer!
9. Choose your website-designer thoughtfully
The most important thing here is to remember what you are trying to create – a beautiful online gallery space to elegantly show your beautiful work – this is very different from building a high-volume website selling printer ink cartridges and paper rolls!
Look for the ability to design a space to present your work. One way to do this is to find artist websites that you like and then contact the artist to get the name of their designer.
10. Know what you should pay
Artist’s website development prices range from a few hundred to tens of thousands of dollars. Typically, bigger design firms have larger overheads and will be significantly more expensive. On the other hand, Joe down the street can probably build you a website for $200 – but you probably don’t want that website!
At Beautiful Artist Websites we have packages ranging from $700 to $2000 for simple elegant artists websites with different levels of functionality. We can also develop fully customized sites to your specifications with prices based on requirements.