The Long Game of NFT Artists: A How-To Guide for Sustainable Success

There Are Two Ways to Play This Game — But Only One Promotes Longevity

Sophie Sturdevant
7 min readMar 19, 2021
Visit sophiesturdevant.com to learn more about the artist-author

Why Aren’t I Selling?

In all the communication I’ve had with the NFT community since entering the space in late 2020 — with the exception of “Can I get a Foundation invite?” — I’m posed this question more than any other:

How come I’m not selling like other artists?

Here’s the short answer: The NFT game(s) are a tricky one.

It feels a little bit like a catch-22, in which artists — especially those coming from the traditional or fine art world, like myself — are seeing the significant and overwhelming success of a small (but growing) handful of other creators…which leads us to wonder: “Is my art collectable?”

And worse: “Do I need to make different art to fit the market?”

(As artists, we want to make what we want, tell stories of our suffering, shine light on political and socioeconomic issues, call out injustice, persuade others, express beauty, evoke emotion…but it’s impossible to do so, continually, without financial support and stability. This is my least favorite thing about being a human: finance = freedom, and this is all the more true when it comes to artistry.)

So, we’re drawn in by the flashing, neon lights (literally), and the unspoken “promise” that you’ll make enough money in the first week to quit your day job. The problem is, that wouldn’t be a lie: Many artists — growing in number every day — are finding enough success to quit their jobs and take art full time.

Of course, these are the minority, and the rest of crypto’s creators are left dumbfounded. “How have I not sold anything?” “Where are all the collectors?” and my favorite: “I’ve been an artist for 10 years. I have notoriety/a following/success outside of crypto…why is it not translating?” (I say this one’s my favorite because I feel it most deeply, having been a working artist for over a decade and finding myself building from ground zero inside the seemingly siloed world of crypto creation.)

There’s a Fork in the Road

Because, ultimately, there are two ways to play this NFT game.

The first is to change what you do. To give in to the siren’s song of quick cash and Rarible Leaderboard infamy, if just for a day. To make different art, suited to market trends (astronauts, anyone?), and to create for the purpose of selling or sharing. (Now, this is not to say, don’t challenge yourself or learn new skills or try 3D or animations or, hell, paint astronauts ever again. I’m referring to making products as opposed to making art, and for an artist true to themselves, this would feel like “selling out.” And only you know what that means for you.)

This road has a quicker ROI. It will return your gas fees back to you, and more, quickly. But there’s a cost to this path, of course, which is to forego the second option:

Stay the course. This is the second way to play this game. To make work that tells your story, that capitalizes on your unique advantage, that acts as an extension of you — your identity. To make art for yourself before you make art for anyone else, whether or not they have money to blow.

This road is not recommended for the adrenaline junky; it will require work, and consistency, and so much patience you’ll hate the choice you made at times, wondering if it’s too late to take the easy way out.

Failure is a Facade

For many artists, and I’ve spoken to a lot of them, this lack of instantaneous success (in terms of sales) feels like failure. And it hits harder than perceived “failure” in the traditional art world, I think, because the long-standing traditional promise is that you’re choosing into “starving” artistry, while crypto art sings: “There’s enough for everybody. In fact, there’s too much. Come have your cake, eat it too — and help yourself to seconds, while you’re at it.”

I’ve seen community members enter NFTs and quit shortly after, despite their work being exceptional and highly “collectable.” And I’ve had too many more bow out silently, burning their tokenized works and wishing there was a refund for gas fees.

But the timeline is distorted, and our warped perception is that success happens instantaneously just because we’ve entered the “promised land” of NFTs.

And this is where I need my artists , especially traditional — myself included — to rethink our strategy.

NFTs are a glorious thing for us, allowing many to finally taste success and reap the well-deserved rewards of their creative labor. But its mechanism — humanity — is no different. Though the currency is new, the collector is not: your collector is a human, your audience is human, your community is human, even though “crypto” might feel a little alien.

So, instead of assuming that a new platform (Rarible, Foundation, SuperRare, Nifty Gateway, etc) holds the magic formula to your success as an artist, remember that these are just new avenues to reach the same destination: human beings.

Although this feels reductive, I’ll liken this to Etsy or Saatchi or Instagram Shopping. Showing up on a new platform can be helpful — and, in some cases, instrumental — to establishing credibility, garnering attention, and selling work, but it can’t (or shouldn’t) be your one-way ticket “outta here.” Whatever “here” is.

As an artist, I know you know this: Your success will come with consistency. With technical improvement, with stylistic recognizability, with really fucking hard work. With blood, sweat, and tears. It’ll come as you grow in personhood and in profession, as you carve out a name for yourself, as you lean into your unique story. It’ll come one viewer, one supporter, one collector at a time.

Alessio De Vecchi says it best: “Many artists are frustrated by this hype-driven scene that rewards lack of talent, accolades and skills and creates overnight millionaires. Once the speculative component and unjustified fad[s] subside, real talent will be evident and long-lasting.”

Answer This Question First

Decide what game you’re playing before you get discouraged, before you quit, before you think of yourself as inadequate as an artist.

Are you playing the short game? Or are you playing the long game?

Only once you decide which game you’re playing can you enter the space with healthy expectations. Your finish line — the end of a sprint or the end of a marathon — will inform what art to make, which trends to try, and which results are actually indicative of your kind of success (i.e. a quick sale or leaderboard numbers versus recognition or technical improvement).

If you’ve chosen the long game, remind yourself of this whenever you get discouraged. It’s not supposed to happen overnight — as the greatest “overnight success” stories were, in reality, decades in the making.

Look at NFTs like another avenue for storytelling, for connecting with collectors, and for building community (this one is, after all, the best art-focused community of all time in regards to artist-to-artist support, novelty, excitement, and digital renaissance.)

And then, when you begin to see the compound effect of having stayed true to your work, your craft, and your story, and you make it big, throw me a CashApp tip (just playin’) or purchase one of my works. (I’m serious.)

I’ll still be here, making art like I always have, whether I’ve yet to “make it” or not. Because I’ve already decided which game I’m playing.

[To Recap] Long-Game Players: Keep These Tips in Mind

  1. Begin with the end in mind. Let your goals (short-term wins or long-term sustainability) inform how you create, move, speak, and define “milestone” success.
  2. Stay true to your craft. If you’re making art that would be considered weird, different, or off the wall, cool. Keep doing that. In fact, lean all the way in. Get weird and then get weirder.
  3. Hop only on the bandwagons that make sense for you and your artistic identity. Like the abundance of astronauts we’ve seen recently, we’ll see more bandwagon trends. I’ve been making art to celebrate the woman for almost 10 years, and in the case that the female form becomes a common NFT denominator, you better believe I’m going to capitalize on it. But that’s because I’d be creating that work anyway.
  4. Foster specialization. (I talk about this a lot.) Identifiability is instrumental in a saturated market, especially where everyone is brilliant and so much work is technically and stylistically phenomenal. Seriously. It hurts. But it should drive you to carving out your niche. Fill out your lane so profoundly that anyone who enters will be nudged out, or forced to find their own. Become the king of your lane.
  5. Do. Not. Compare. Your. Self. Ever. Get inspired, save some references, and then put your blinders on and fall victim to comparison, because it will destroy you. And it will show up in your work. People like authenticity whether they know how to put a finger on it or not. And to compare yourself means you’ll hate what you make, because it will have been the product of someone that isn’t you, cosmically.
  6. Steward your Creative Responsibility. This is a whole topic in and of itself (read more here), but create with assurance that it is your responsibility to tell your visual story in a way that only you can. Being an artist isn’t “fluffy” or stupid or pointless — on the contrary, it is truly humanity’s greatest and most important reason for being.
  7. Have fun. I mean it. If you’re not having fun, stop doing this. Life is way too short and you are way too cool and the point of creating is to experience your fullest, wildest, most authentic self and to share that (or keep it secret) with whomever and however you so choose. The end.

If you don’t know me, hi! I’m Sophie, a Chicago-based artist and writer.

Connect with me on Instagram or Twitter, or shoot me an email if you’d like to get in touch (sophie@sturdevantcreative.com).

--

--

Sophie Sturdevant
Sophie Sturdevant

Written by Sophie Sturdevant

Chicago-based artist, writer, and digital marketer, thinking about Creative Responsibility

Responses (2)