Networking for Artists: Building Relationships in Person and Online

If I’m being honest, the word “networking” used to make me cringe a little. It brought to mind awkward conversations at conference tables, cold rooms with bad coffee, and someone asking me what my “elevator pitch” was. I don’t know about you, but I don’t walk around with an elevator pitch in my pocket. I’m usually just trying to make it through the week without forgetting a deadline or letting my coffee go cold...again.

But the longer I’ve worked in the arts...and taught in the arts...the more I’ve come to realize that networking isn’t some buttoned up thing reserved for big city gallery nights or MFA meetups. It’s something we do all the time. When you share your sketchbook with a friend. When you comment on someone’s Instagram post and start a conversation that leads to a collaboration. When you go to a local art fair and end up chatting with someone at the booth next to you all day. It’s all connection. And those connections are the backbone of this strange, beautiful creative life.

So let’s talk about it. Because whether you’re just starting out or you’ve been in the studio for decades, building your artist network matters. Not just for selling your work or finding opportunities...but for staying connected, supported, and inspired. And you don’t have to force yourself into a stuffy version of it. You can find a way to build community that feels right for you.

I want to share some of the ways I’ve built relationships in person and online, some things that didn’t work, and a few small shifts that made a big difference. This isn’t a guide to “becoming an influencer” or getting a massive following. This is about meaningful connection...the kind that keeps you showing up in the studio when the self doubt creeps in. The kind that gives you someone to text when your piece just got rejected for the third time this month. The kind that reminds you why you’re doing this at all.

So let’s start with the in person part…

I know it’s not always easy to get out there. Maybe you live in a rural area. Maybe your city doesn’t have a huge arts scene. Maybe you’re juggling a full time job, kids, or health stuff. I hear you. And I’ve been in all those spots myself at different times. But even with all that, finding small ways to plug in locally can be worth it. You don’t need to go to every gallery opening or artist talk (unless you want to). But maybe you check out a local maker’s market. Maybe you join a figure drawing night that meets monthly at the community arts center. Maybe you show up to a small open studio event just to see what other people are working on. Even if you’re tired. Even if you don’t know what to say. You don’t have to have anything to show. Just show up. The consistency of being present in creative spaces opens doors. And I say that from experience...not from a bullet point list of “5 tips to network better.” I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in what actually works for real artists living real lives.

One thing that helped me was bringing a little something to share. Not a full portfolio or anything fancy. Just a postcard of my work. Or a sticker I made. Or even just my business card with my Instagram handle on it. Sometimes that one small thing makes it easier to start a conversation. It gives someone something to ask about, something to remember. And honestly, it helps me feel like I have a reason to be there, especially in those early moments when I’m second guessing everything and wondering if I should’ve just stayed home in my studio eating cereal.

If you’ve got a local art community...even a small one...go see what’s happening. If you don’t, think about starting something small. I’ve hosted studio hangouts with just a few friends, or invited other artists over to share work and talk about what’s going on in our creative lives. It doesn’t have to be big or fancy. Some of the best connections I’ve made have started around my kitchen table with tea and a pile of messy sketchbooks.

And then there’s the internet. Which, depending on the day, can either feel like the most magical artist support group in the world or like a big noisy mess of comparison and pressure. Let’s be honest about that, too. Online networking can be amazing...but it can also be overwhelming. So I like to treat it a little differently. Less like a place to perform and more like a place to connect. When I post something, I try to remember that someone on the other side of the screen might need to hear it. When I message another artist, I treat it like reaching out to a peer, not pitching to a buyer. That shift in energy changes everything.

What’s worked best for me is focusing on being genuine. I don’t try to play an algorithm game. I don’t do scheduled posts or engagement pods or anything like that. What I do instead is show up when I have something real to say. I respond to people who take the time to comment. I follow artists who inspire me and I let them know. And when a conversation starts that feels like more than just a quick reply, I lean into it. I’ve made real friends this way. I’ve landed opportunities this way. And it never felt like I was “networking.” It just felt like being a person talking to another person about art.

Once you’ve started showing up a little more, either in person or online, the next thing that usually happens is...you freeze up. You get the contact or the moment or the message or the table spot at the event, and your brain goes: what now? Let’s talk about that. Because a lot of us can share our work all day long, but sharing ourselves feels like a whole different thing. You start to wonder if you’re bothering people. You hesitate before sending that follow up message. You talk yourself out of going to the next thing. I’ve been there. I still end up there sometimes.

What’s helped me most is changing the goal. Instead of focusing on “growing a network,” I focus on starting conversations. Not sales pitches. Not collaborations. Just...conversations. That feels doable. That feels human. And honestly, that’s what builds the real connections over time anyway.

For example, when you meet someone at a show or see a post from someone who’s doing work you admire, your first instinct might be to just like the post or follow them and move on. But if you take 30 more seconds and leave a thoughtful comment or message...something specific about their work or even just that it made you stop and look...now you’ve made a tiny ripple. That ripple can turn into a real relationship later. I’ve had years long art friendships that started with a random comment on someone’s in progress work. It wasn’t strategic. It was just honest.

And sometimes people don’t respond. That’s okay. You’re not going to click with everyone. Not everyone is in the space to connect. But keep doing it. Keep showing up with that same genuine energy. That’s the kind of networking that feels sustainable. You don’t need to “win” at this. You’re just trying to find your people.

Another piece of this is learning how to talk about your work in a way that feels natural. That doesn’t mean you need a script. But it does help to think about how you’d describe what you do to someone who knows nothing about art. Not because they’re dumb, but because they’re coming in without context. A lot of times when we talk about our art, we start way too deep. We say “I’m working in abstraction to explore themes of emotional gesture in non linear time” and people’s eyes glaze over. Try saying, “I’ve been experimenting with layers and texture lately. I’m interested in how painting can feel physical...like you can almost touch it.”

That makes it real. That makes people lean in.

The more you practice talking about your work that way...online, in person, even just to your cat...the easier it gets. And that ease makes a difference when someone asks you what you do at an opening or a market. You’ll be ready to answer without fumbling or defaulting to “oh, it’s just this thing I do sometimes.” You don’t need to shrink your practice. You’re allowed to take up space.

If you’re trying to build more in person connections, here’s something else that might help: volunteer. If you’re new to a city or just haven’t found your crew yet, offering to help with a local art event, a community mural, or a school program can be a backdoor into the creative scene. People remember the folks who show up. You get to meet people in a low pressure way, and you start to become a familiar face. That matters. So many of my favorite creative friendships started because someone remembered me from something I helped with years ago. No agenda. Just presence.

Now let’s talk about social media without needing a shower after. Because it can be a tool for connection, even if the apps themselves feel like a dumpster fire sometimes. I’m not going to tell you to post every day. I’m not even going to tell you to pick a niche or color palette or a consistent aesthetic. I know some people thrive on that, but for a lot of artists, especially those of us who work across mediums or who change things up with the seasons, that kind of advice can feel stifling.

What does help is consistency of voice. Not perfection. Not polish. Just voice. If someone visits your feed or site or story or email newsletter, do they get a sense of you? Of your work? Of why you make what you make? If yes, then you’re doing great.

If not, think about how you can let people in a little more. You don’t need to overshare or document every second of your life. But maybe you show your workspace once in a while. Or you write about what’s behind a piece you’re working on. Or you talk about your process. Or your struggle with it. People aren’t just following for the art. They’re following you. And the more human you let yourself be, the more that connection builds.

Another thing I recommend is being proactive. Don’t wait for people to come to you. Reach out to other artists whose work you admire. Invite them to do a sketchbook swap. Ask if they’d want to do a casual IG Live conversation. Make a collaborative zine together. Propose a group show. These things don’t have to be big. In fact, the smaller and more casual they are, the more likely they are to actually happen.

And if someone says no or doesn’t reply...that’s fine. Don’t take it personally. Sometimes people are swamped or burned out or just don’t have the space to add something new. Keep reaching out. Keep building slowly.

Here’s another tool that’s helped me a ton: having a simple way to stay in touch with people I meet. After an event or a call or even a good DM conversation, I like to jot down a quick note about who they are and what we talked about. I keep it in a little notes app so I can follow up down the line. It might sound nerdy, but when I circle back to someone I met six months ago and reference what they were working on, it shows I cared. And that builds trust.

So much of this comes down to listening. Like...really listening. When someone shares something about their process or their struggles or their new project, ask questions. Don’t just wait for your turn to talk. Listen, respond, reflect. That’s the kind of energy that makes people want to keep you in their orbit. It’s not about what you can get from them. It’s about what kind of connection you can build with them. That’s what lasts.

You start putting yourself out there, whether it’s in person or online, and then...nothing. Maybe you go to a couple of events and don’t meet anyone. Maybe you reach out to someone you admire and they leave you on read. Maybe you’re posting regularly and it just feels like no one is seeing it.

This is the part where a lot of people quit. But here’s the truth: networking, relationship building, connection...whatever you want to call it...isn’t a fast burn. It’s a long game. And there are going to be stretches where it feels like nothing is happening. You’re putting energy into the world, and it feels like it’s floating into the void. But that doesn’t mean it’s not working. It just means you’re in a quiet stretch. I call this the “slow simmer” part. And it’s a real part of the process.

Some of my best connections didn’t really come to life until months (or even years) after the first interaction. A quick hello at an opening turns into a group show down the line. A follow becomes a conversation six months later. A sticker trade leads to a studio visit next year. If you’re expecting instant returns, it’s easy to get discouraged. But if you think of networking more like planting seeds...you’ll be surprised by what comes up later.

Let’s talk about rejection for a second, too. Because the more you put yourself out there, the more you’ll hear “no.” Sometimes it’s a formal rejection from a show or a residency. Sometimes it’s a collab that doesn’t pan out. Sometimes it’s someone not replying at all. And yeah...it stings. Even when you try to act like it doesn’t, it does.

Here’s how I deal with it: I give myself a short window to be bummed. A day, maybe two. I don’t try to bypass it or push it down. I let it be annoying. I let it feel personal, even when I know it’s not. And then I move on. Because staying stuck in that place only makes it harder to try again.

What helps is remembering that rejection doesn’t erase what you’ve made. It doesn’t take away your process or your growth or your creative practice. All it means is that this particular thing wasn’t the right fit at this particular time. And that has nothing to do with your value as an artist or a human.

The key is to keep moving. Keep connecting. Keep showing up, even when it’s quiet.

If you’re just starting out and you’re looking around like, “Where do I even begin?”...I get that. It can feel like everyone already knows everyone else. Like there’s some secret club and you missed the invite. But here’s the truth: most people are figuring it out as they go. Most people feel awkward, at least sometimes. Most people appreciate when someone else takes the first step.

So start small. Pick one local event to go to. Send one message to another artist whose work you admire. Comment on one post with something real. Share one behind the scenes photo from your process. That’s all it takes to start. And the more you do it, the more natural it gets.

One of the things that’s helped me stay connected over time is having a loose circle of artists I check in with regularly. Sometimes it’s a text thread. Sometimes it’s a monthly Zoom call. Sometimes it’s just knowing we’ll see each other at a local market or event. These don’t have to be official critique groups or anything formal. They can just be the people you trust to look at your work and tell you what they see. Or the ones who know when you’re spiraling a little and gently talk you down.

If you don’t have people like that yet, you can start looking by showing up where other artists gather. That could be a community studio, a drawing night, a gallery opening, an online group. And when you meet someone and feel a creative spark...don’t be afraid to follow up. You’re not being clingy. You’re being human. That’s how these things grow.

Sometimes people ask me if it’s worth it. All this effort. All this time. And I’ll be real...it’s not always easy. It takes vulnerability. It takes energy. And sometimes it takes a little courage to keep showing up when you’d rather hide out in your studio forever. But yes. It’s worth it.

Because when you find your people...the ones who get what it’s like to make something from nothing, to put it out in the world, to wrestle with your own brain about whether it’s “good enough”...everything changes. You don’t feel as alone. You start to believe in your own voice a little more. You get pushed when you need pushing and held when you need space. And those relationships don’t just support your work. They become part of your work.

Let’s say you’ve been doing the thing...going to events, chatting with people online, posting your work, commenting when something resonates...and then you burn out. Or life gets messy. Or your studio gets buried under laundry and unopened mail. Maybe you just don’t have the energy to keep up. Maybe you took a break, and now it feels weird to come back.

I want to say this clearly: it’s okay. Seriously. You don’t owe anyone constant presence. We all have seasons where we go quiet. You’re not behind. You’re not forgotten. You’re not starting over. You’re just in a new phase.

When you’re ready to come back, it doesn’t have to be a big announcement. No long apology needed. You can just start again. Send a quick message to someone you’ve lost touch with. Make a new post that feels true to where you are. Show up to the next thing on your calendar even if it’s been a while. People aren’t keeping score. They’ll probably just be glad to see you.

One of the most helpful things I’ve done in the quieter seasons is to set up what I call “low effort touchpoints.” Little ways of staying connected without having to do much. That might look like sharing a photo of what’s on your desk that day. Or sending a “thinking of you” DM to someone whose work you haven’t seen in a while. Or saving a post that inspires you and making a mental note to comment on it later. It’s not about doing everything. It’s about doing something.

And you can always start something new to reconnect. I’ve done small collaborative zines with friends after long quiet stretches. I’ve started a new email thread just to check in with a few people I hadn’t heard from in a while. I’ve signed up for group classes or workshops, not just for the learning, but for the chance to get back into the rhythm of community.

If you feel like you don’t have “a network” yet, maybe the first step is redefining what that means. It doesn’t have to be dozens of people. It doesn’t have to be formal. A network can just be a few folks you trust and respect. People you can send a work in progress to and say, “Does this feel like me?” or “Can you help me name this?” or even “Should I burn this one at the bonfire?”

You don’t have to be well connected to be connected.

And here’s one last thing that’s worth saying: you are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to follow up. You are allowed to say, “Hey, I liked talking with you. Want to keep the conversation going?” You are allowed to start things. Host things. Reach out. You don’t need a certain number of followers or a gallery show under your belt to be someone worth connecting with. You already are.

So if you’ve been wondering how to build your artist network, or feeling like it’s something that’s just out of reach, I hope this makes it feel a little closer. A little more doable. A little more human. Start where you are. Reach out in small ways. Let it be awkward sometimes. Let it take time. And let yourself be surprised by what happens when you keep showing up. Your network isn’t something you build once and forget about. It’s something you grow into. It evolves with you. It moves when you move. And it’s never too late to plant new seeds.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Okay, but where do I even start this week?”...here’s my challenge to you: pick one thing. Just one. Message an artist you admire. Comment on someone’s post with something thoughtful. Look up the next art event near you and add it to your calendar. Reach out to a friend and ask if they want to do a little studio check in. You don’t need to overhaul your whole life to start feeling connected. You just need one moment of courage at a time.

Let’s keep the conversation going. I’d love to hear what’s worked for you...or what you’re still figuring out. Drop me a note, leave a comment, or send a message. You never know where one honest conversation might lead.