When Art Doesn’t Sell: Finding the Motivation to Keep Going

There’s this moment that every artist I know hits at some point… usually more than once. You’ve poured time into the work, maybe stayed up too late or let the laundry pile up or eaten one too many granola bars at your studio desk instead of actual meals, and then… nothing. You list the work online. You hang it in a show. You share it in your newsletter or post it on your socials with your best effort at enthusiasm. And then... silence. Not even a nibble.

I’m not here to pretend that doesn’t sting. It does. It’s hard not to take it personally, especially when the work meant something to you. Maybe you thought this one would be the one that sells quickly or gets a little traction. Maybe you had a good run last month and thought you were finally finding your footing. Then the momentum stalls and you’re left wondering what happened. What you’re doing wrong. Whether any of it is actually worth it.

If you’re in that headspace right now, I just want to say... I see you. I’ve been there more times than I can count.

I remember a summer where I did three local markets in a row. I had new prints, a fresh display setup, and a Square reader that actually worked this time (a miracle I know!). I had taken the time to make everything feel polished. It was a big deal for me…I had really put energy into prepping and felt proud of what I had on the table. But sales? A trickle. A couple of kind words. Some interest. But not much else. At the end of one of those events, I sat in the car, stared at my half-packed boxes, and asked myself out loud… Why do I keep doing this?

The answer didn’t come immediately, but it showed up later in pieces. It came through the emails I got weeks after the show from folks who had picked up a card and finally visited my shop. It came through a message from someone who said they saw my work and it reminded them to start painting again. It came through a commission that happened because someone had seen my display and told a friend.

But in that moment? All I could see was what didn’t happen.

Here’s the thing that’s helped me most when art doesn’t sell the way I hoped… reminding myself that selling is only one piece of the puzzle. And honestly? It’s not always the most interesting one. Creating something… showing up in the studio… developing a voice… those things don’t stop being valuable just because it didn’t result in a sale right away. That’s easy to say, though. So what can you actually do when you’re in that slump and trying to stay motivated?

One thing I do is rotate the way I measure success. If I’m only tracking money made or pieces sold, I’m going to hit a wall eventually. But if I give myself other markers… like, “Did I try something new this week?” or “Did I show my work somewhere I haven’t before?” or “Did I follow through on a project I’d been putting off?”… then I have a wider field to look at when I’m assessing my progress. And that gives me more fuel to keep going.

Another thing that helps? Taking stock of why I’m making the work in the first place. I know that sounds basic, but I really do have to remind myself sometimes that I didn’t get into art to rack up Etsy stats. I didn’t start painting because I wanted to become a small business owner. That part grew along the way. I make work because it gives me a way to think, to feel, to make sense of what’s happening around me. When I feel disconnected from that core, everything else starts to wobble.

Sometimes it’s about pausing for a beat and doing something completely unmarketable. I’ve talked before about burning old work… my art bonfire ritual… and it’s become something I come back to when I need to remember that art is more than product. Letting go of work that’s not working (for me, for others, for whatever reason) clears the mental space. It’s not about deleting it from the world… it’s about releasing the grip. It reminds me that not everything has to lead to a finished piece or a sale to be valuable. Some things just serve their purpose and then need to move along.

If the slump feels extra sticky, I try to bring in a new rhythm. That could mean setting a timer and doing a daily ten-minute sketch, just to move my hands and not overthink it. It could mean finally trying that material I’ve had tucked away in a drawer. Switching things up a bit can pull me out of my own echo chamber, where the only voice is saying, “Why isn’t this working?”

Sometimes I also just need to step back and look at the bigger picture. If I scroll back through my own photo archive or look at older work from a few years ago, I can see how far I’ve come, even if sales don’t show that on paper. That visual proof of growth reminds me that I’m still moving forward, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. And if I can’t see it right away, I’ll do a side-by-side… compare an old piece and a recent one. It helps shift me out of the now now now loop and into something a little more grounded.

There’s also the simple fact that art is not a consistent income machine. Even with a shop and a mailing list and systems in place, there are still ups and downs. And they’re often seasonal. I’ve learned to keep track of that in a low-pressure way… just a calendar with little notes or a spreadsheet that lets me look for patterns. That way, if April is slow every year, I don’t spiral next April thinking it’s just me.

And if you’ve been making work for a while, you probably already know this… but sometimes a piece doesn’t sell right now and then later, out of the blue, it finds a home. I had one piece sit in my studio for almost three years. It never felt quite right to mark it down or tuck it away. Then, someone saw it on my site and bought it at full price with a note that said, “I’ve been looking for something like this forever.” You just never know what someone else is going to connect with… or when.

If you’re in a place where the lack of sales is making you question whether you should keep going, let me offer you this… you don’t have to be producing all the time. You don’t have to be “on” constantly. And you don’t have to tie your worth… or your art’s worth… to a number.

What you can do is give yourself space to regroup. That doesn’t mean quitting. It might mean pausing one part of your practice to focus on another. Or leaning into the parts of the work that feel the most alive to you, even if they’re not “sellable.” Or connecting with another artist who gets it… who’s been there… and just talking it through.

Because here’s what I’ve learned… the only way through those stretches is to keep showing up, in whatever way makes sense for you. Sometimes that looks like pushing forward. Sometimes it looks like pulling back. But either way, you’re still in it. You’re still making. And that matters.

So if your art isn’t selling right now… that doesn’t mean it’s not good. That doesn’t mean it won’t sell later. And it definitely doesn’t mean you should stop. It might just mean this is a recalibration moment. A time to check in with yourself, adjust your pace, re-energize. You don’t have to burn out to find momentum again. You don’t have to have all the answers today. You just have to stay connected to the work in a way that feels real for you.

So… what’s one small thing you could do this week that brings you back to your studio, not as a seller, but as a maker? Maybe it’s a loose sketch. Maybe it’s reorganizing your space so it feels better to be in. Maybe it’s printing out that photo you’ve been meaning to work from. Whatever it is, start there. The rest will come.

And if you ever feel like you’re the only one in this, trust me… you’re not.