Evolving as an Artist: Staying Relevant in a Changing Art Market

Lately I have been thinking a lot about what it really means to evolve as an artist. It is easy to talk about growth when you are starting out. Everything feels fresh. Every piece feels like some kind of a step forward, even if it’s a clumsy one. But what about when you’ve been doing this for a while? When you’ve got a good body of work behind you, a few shows under your belt, maybe a couple of sales or commissions, maybe even years or decades in? That’s when it gets trickier. You are no longer just building. You are rebuilding. You are redefining. You are trying to keep your work alive for yourself while also connecting to an art world that does not stay still for anyone.

This is something I’ve been wrestling with more and more in my own practice. I’ve been a working artist for over twenty years, and even though I’m grateful to still be here, still making, still showing, still selling...I can feel the shifts. Galleries have changed. Buyers have changed. The whole way people interact with art has changed. And honestly, if I kept doing exactly what I was doing twenty years ago, I probably wouldn’t still be connecting with people the way I want to. Maybe that’s the hard truth about being a creative person over the long haul. It’s not just about making the work. It’s about staying awake inside of it. Staying willing to change even when part of you just wants to stay cozy and keep doing what you already know.

One thing that’s been really helpful for me is paying attention to the difference between trends and shifts. Trends are surface level. They come and go like the latest design in the home goods aisle at Target. Shifts, though, are deeper. They change the way people see art. They change what people expect from art. They change what opportunities are even available to you. When NFTs hit the scene a few years ago, I remember feeling like the ground moved under my feet a little. I wasn’t even interested in NFTs myself, but it showed me just how fast the landscape could change now. Digital art had been growing for years. That wasn’t a trend. It was a shift. A bigger move toward digital experiences. A bigger move toward artists needing to know how to navigate spaces outside of traditional galleries.

You don’t have to chase every trend to stay relevant. In fact, please don’t. But you do have to pay attention to the shifts. If you ignore them, you risk waking up one day and realizing that the world moved on without you.

So how do you actually do that? How do you evolve without losing the heart of what you do?

For me, one of the biggest things is staying a student. Always. I know that sounds simple, but it is harder than you think once you have some experience under your belt. It is so tempting to stay in the zone of what you know you are good at. But I try to make a point, every few months, to learn something new that is just outside my comfort zone. Sometimes that’s trying a different medium. Sometimes it’s taking a workshop about something I think is "not for me" just to see what it sparks. Sometimes it’s as small as watching a documentary about an art form I know nothing about. Sometimes it’s bigger like attending a conference that has nothing to do with my main genre. What matters is that it keeps me from getting stuck in my own echo chamber. It keeps me curious. And that curiosity shows up in my work.

Another thing that has helped me stay connected with evolving audiences is being honest about what matters to me now, not just what mattered to me when I first started. When I was in my early twenties, I was all about big, messy exploration. I loved abstract work that felt raw and urgent. I still love that energy. But as I have gotten older, my focus has shifted. I care more now about the small details. About slow making. About intentionality. About sustainability. And when I allow those real shifts to show up in my work, it resonates. People can feel when you are working from where you actually are rather than trying to replicate where you used to be.

It also means you have to stay willing to rethink how you show your work. Not just what you make, but how you share it. I remember when posting to Instagram felt like the end-all-be-all of art marketing. You posted a painting, people liked it, maybe someone bought it, and that was it. Simple. But that isn’t how people connect with art online anymore. Now it is way more about storytelling. About inviting people into your process. About giving a glimpse behind the scenes. Even if you are a more private person (and trust me, I get that), finding ways to let people in a little can make a huge difference. You don’t have to spill your life story. You don’t have to show your breakfast or your dog (unless you want to). But sharing your why once in a while. Sharing your process once in a while. Sharing your real questions about your work once in a while. That goes a long way toward building the kind of connection that lasts longer than any one post.

One of my favorite techniques to stay relevant in a shifting art market is doing what I call a Creative Audit about once a year. It’s not formal. I just sit down with a notebook and ask myself a few questions. What am I making right now? Does it still feel alive to me? What am I curious about that I am not letting myself explore yet? Where do I feel stuck? Where do I feel energized? What have I seen out in the world lately that excited me? What did I feel jealous of (jealousy usually tells you where you want to go next)? I write it all out without judgment. Then I look for patterns. It’s usually clear, once it is all out on paper, what needs to shift. What needs more attention. What maybe needs to be put down for a while. It is like giving yourself a compass before you get too lost.

Another key thing that is easy to overlook is updating how you talk about your work. This one sneaks up on a lot of artists. You grow, you change, your work changes...but your artist statement stays the same. Your bio stays the same. Your website still talks about the work you were doing five years ago. It is worth setting a reminder to update your written materials at least once a year. Even if you think nothing huge has changed. Go read it like you are a stranger stumbling onto your work for the first time. Does it still feel like it matches who you are now? If not, take the time to refresh it. This small thing can make a surprisingly big difference in how people perceive your work and your journey.

Of course, some shifts are harder to face than others. Sometimes evolving means realizing that the audiences or galleries that supported you early on are not going to be your long-term home. That can feel scary. It can feel like starting over. But it is not starting over. It is growing. It’s making space for the people who will resonate with your work now. Staying stuck in old spaces just because they were comfortable once will not serve you or your art in the long run. It is better to risk finding new ground than to keep shrinking yourself to fit old spaces that no longer fit you.

One thing I will say, and I say this as much to myself as to you, is that evolving does not mean abandoning the heart of what you do. You don’t have to chase shiny things. You don’t have to flip your whole practice upside down every year to stay relevant. You can keep your core values and your core vision intact. The evolution is usually in how you express it, how you share it, how you connect it to the world around you. The art world might shift around you, but if you stay connected to what is true for you, and stay curious about new ways to share it, you will always find your people.

And honestly, sometimes it is less about chasing "relevance" and more about building resilience. The artists who last are not always the flashiest. They are often the ones who quietly, stubbornly, lovingly keep adapting, keep learning, keep showing up, even when the ground under them keeps moving. They keep making because making is what they do. They keep evolving not because they have to stay trendy, but because they are still alive inside their practice.

I’m going to dive a little deeper into a few practical ways you can stay flexible and fresh in your art life without feeling like you are chasing your tail. There are a lot of ways to do this, and you do not need to do them all at once. Pick what feels like a spark. Ignore the rest for now.

Let’s get into it...

One of the first things you can try if you are feeling a little stale or disconnected from your audience is to build a project that exists outside of your normal rhythm. This does not have to be a major shift. It can be something small. Like starting a 30-day sketch challenge where you post a drawing a day. Or documenting the behind-the-scenes of one painting from start to finish. Or making a mini-series around a theme you have been low-key obsessed with but never gave yourself permission to explore. The goal here is not to go viral. The goal is to shake up your creative energy and invite people into the studio with you, even if just virtually.

Sometimes, when you start sharing the messier middle parts of your work, people actually connect more deeply. They don’t just see the polished piece on the wall. They see the weird sketches, the stuck points, the breakthroughs. They see the human side of it. And especially now, when there is so much perfect-looking content out there, people are craving honesty. They are craving realness. If you can give them a glimpse of what your real process looks like, you are already doing something that not everyone is willing to do.

Another thing I recommend is spending a little bit of time every season (spring, summer, fall, winter) doing a mini review of where your work is living. I mean this literally and metaphorically. Are you still showing your work in places that feel aligned with who you are now? Are you trying new platforms or just recycling the same spaces over and over? Are you approaching galleries that feel vibrant and active, or are you still clinging to the idea that you should be in certain places even if they don't really fit you anymore?

It can help to make a “dream list” every season. Not a big overwhelming one. Just a small handful of places, shows, shops, websites, collaborations that feel exciting to you now. Even if they feel a little out of reach. Having that list in front of you gives you a reason to stretch. It gives you something to aim for besides just doing the same old rounds.

It also might be time to rethink your pricing, packaging, or even formats. I know pricing can feel intimidating. But it is part of staying viable as an artist. Markets shift. Costs change. Your skill level and experience grow. If you never revisit your prices, you are probably underpricing yourself without even realizing it. One way I like to approach it is to check in once a year: what does it actually cost me to make this work now, factoring in materials, time, experience, and all the invisible costs like marketing and overhead? If the answer feels very different than it did a few years ago, it is probably time to adjust.

Along the same lines, think about how people access your work. Is there a way to offer new formats without diluting your core practice? Maybe you have a series of large paintings, but you offer small limited-edition prints. Maybe you create a simple zine or a catalog around a body of work. Maybe you offer small works for first-time collectors alongside your bigger pieces. It is not about selling out. It is about giving people different entry points to connect with you.

And if you have been working in one medium for a long time, it might be worth giving yourself permission to experiment, even just for yourself. This past year, I gave myself permission to try some digital painting, even though most of my work is physical. I was not trying to become a digital artist overnight. I just wanted to see if learning a new tool could open up some ideas. And it did. Even though I am still primarily a hands-on, physical artist, some of those digital experiments crept into my physical pieces in ways I did not expect. Little textures. New kinds of layering. Different ways of thinking about color.

Sometimes staying relevant isn’t about chasing external change. It is about keeping your internal sense of play alive.

Something else I want to say, especially to those of you who have been working a long time: it is okay to let things go when they stop fitting. Styles you used to love. Methods you used to swear by. Goals you thought you had to chase. Not everything is meant to be carried forever. Some things are meant to be stepping stones. Some things are meant to get you from point A to point B, and then you can lovingly set them down. The more you can see your evolution as a natural part of the process, not a betrayal of your past self, the freer you will feel to move toward what is calling you now.

I have also found that paying attention to what else inspires you — outside of art — keeps your work feeling more connected and more interesting. Maybe you get really into architecture. Maybe you fall down a rabbit hole about ancient textiles. Maybe you start noticing patterns in nature or the way certain songs make you feel a certain color. Feeding your mind with things outside of your direct medium helps your work breathe. It gives you new raw material to pull from. You stay part of a bigger creative conversation, not just the tiny loop inside your head.

If you are worried about staying connected to your audience through all of this, my biggest advice is to bring them along for the ride. You don’t have to have it all figured out before you share. You don’t have to present a finished, perfect pivot. You can say, “Hey, I am exploring some new ideas right now. Here is what I am playing with. Would love to hear what you think.” You can post your process photos. You can write about the questions you are asking yourself. You can even be honest about what is messy and unresolved. Audiences are often much more forgiving — and much more excited to be part of the journey — than we give them credit for.

At the end of the day, evolving as an artist is not about chasing every new thing that pops up. It is about staying in conversation with the world around you and the world inside you. It is about being willing to change when change is called for, but also staying rooted in your own reasons for making art in the first place.