Should artists use reps to sell their work?

Should artists use reps to sell their work? Only if they like the idea of watching their money swirl and disappear down the commode.

When my husband and I opened Color Bakery almost six years ago, one of our main concerns was getting our products (custom decorative tiles, home decor accents, art gifts, art wearables) into stores–i.e., wholesaling. Yes, we had a website, but was it enough? It was a new site, we hadn’t been online long enough to properly promote it, so we worried that not very many people would find us. At the time, we assumed that most of our sales would ultimately come from bulk purchases from resellers–not consumers. We envisioned all different kinds of stores buying from us: art stores, art galleries, gift shops, flower shops, home decor furnishings, etc. Reselling to these stores, we reasoned, was where we would make the bulk of our income. Not from the end buyer/consumer. So we proceeded with those priorities in mind.

We did our homework, and researched our options carefully before diving in to the rep world.  We had a plan. First, we created two pricing tiers: one for retail, one for wholesale. We joined a large rep member organization that specialized in matching rep organizations with manufacturers (artists can be included with the manufacturer category). This organization required a hefty annual fee, but in return, they provided us with a huge list of possible rep matches for our product line. Some listings they provided were individual reps (what they call “road reps”), but most were corporate entities with large staffs and fancy showrooms in all major US cities. Since we had a relatively large and diverse product line, and was able to customize over fifty art images with over one hundred products, we were confident that our line was deep and versatile enough to attract these “creme de la creme” rep firms. Most of these firms, we heard, were very judicious about who they took on. The product line, we were told, had to be exceptional for the best of these companies to even consider representing us. A little nervous about how we would rate with these big firms, we were nonetheless confident because the website was already beginning to generate some very nice sales, and word was rapidly spreading about us. The feedback we were getting online was wonderful, and we had great hopes for the reps.

We contacted the reps we felt were the best match for us, and spent hundreds–probably, more likely, thousands–of dollars in the manufacture of product samples they demanded. I designed a beautiful catalog and we had it professionally printed. Any kind of collateral promo material I was able to think of—sales sheets, price list, order form, business card, POP displays, etc–I designed and redesigned until I was satisfied they employed a mix of easy utility and eye candy. I even made a video slideshow of our products. Along with expensive samples–like glass tiles–we sent some pretty impressive packages out to these rep groups, so they would agree to take us on. And it paid off. They responded with great enthusiasm and complimented us on our artwork, unusual product line and customization capabilities. We were going to do great things, they assured us, because the product line was as beautiful as it was unusual.

We were quickly signed up by the top gift reps in the country. They demanded twenty percent off the wholesale (which left very little profit for us, but we hoped to make it up in bulk sales as well as name recognition potential), as well as huge showroom and show fees. Talking about show fees: having a rep group represent us at gift show at the Javits Center in New York City–along with all their other principals’ products–was over a thousand dollars, for example. And that didn’t include the cost of manufacturing and shipping product both ways, nor did it include breakage. It was worth the huge expense, my husband and I reasoned, so we wrote the checks and made sure they had everything they asked for.

Months went by. They sold next to nothing.

My husband and I scratched our heads. Were we doing something wrong? Or worse, was our line substandard? Was my art lousy? We talked about it candidly. If the internet sales was any indication, the answer to those questions was a resounding “no.” Our retail sales were booming. And growing. So what went wrong?

The reps took very little to no time to learn the line, and the many possibilities that go hand-in-hand with our kind of unprecedented (and singular) customization. The abysmal sales from the reps confounded us, and not just because our website was bringing in a substantial amount of orders from enthused customers around the globe. It was the downright lazy mentality of the many reps. Please let me explain: there’s pretty much nothing we can’t print on our products–whether it’s my own original art or that of the masters like Van Gogh or Klimt. Further, we can even customize an exclusive product line for any given store. For example, we can custom manufacture a beautiful photo of a Martha’s Vineyard scene, do a lovely font treatment and print it on any of our products.  Tourist gift shops in Cape Cod, for example, would actually be able to design their own product line to their own personal specifications. To our utter amazement, the possibilities—a color-soaked dreamscape on ceramic tile, a Klimt on a glass cutting board, a vintage art pastiche on a keyhook, an Alphonse Mucha jewelry box–eluded them. Instead, the sales reps wanted two things: a very low price point (no more than ten or fifteen dollars wholesale, even if the store they called on sold Faberge Eggs) and they wanted to plop the product down on the counter without any explanations or discussion of possibilities or options. We wondered if they even took the time to look at what we did or visit our website. They certainly never asked us meaningful questions about our capabilities or special services. All they cared about was low price points and paper sales sheets for each item so they wouldn’t have to explain anything to the store owner. In time, we began to understand that these were signs of a much bigger problem.

The reps themselves seemed to live in an altogether different time, a time before the internet existed. For example, the idea of showing a video slideshow to a customer instead of the paper brochures to which they were married terrifed them. Carrying a laptop instead of a brochure was just as alien to them as emailing, instead of faxing, their orders. It was like Maxwell Smart showing up on the set of Seinfeld.  In time, I learned the internet was an anathema to them; they hated it, feared it, and avoided it with universal vigilance.

Long gone are the days when artists, small manufacturers and crafters badly needed reps to get their name out to a large-scale audience. In their glory days, reps alone held the keys to big visibility and the potential for lucrative sales because there was no other way for the artist to garner recognition on their own. The internet has changed all that by handing the back the power where it belongs–to the artists themselves. Because this power dynamic has changed, today’s reps are like Steve McQueen in “The Blob”, frantically running from an unstoppable force which very few try to harness. Trade show attendance shrinks dramatically every year; store owners can find new products by Googling; artists can reach millions with their website. Who, then, needs reps? Theirs is an industry whose time has come and gone. They are dinosaurs sucking in their last gasp of oxygen; they are standing in front of a tidal wave with three big W’s emblazoned on its crest. Few of the rep groups we dealt with had their own ‘net presence; and, instead of using our own web site as a the sales tool it might have been, they avoided it like a rabbi at a luau.

This is not to say that, somewhere, there are rep firms that do well for those they represent. Perhaps there are. This is also not to say that there are zero benefits to hitching one’s wagon to a rep group. There may be exceptions to every rule, and perhaps the home decor/gift industry is unique. However, from my own experience as well as the experience of other artists and small manufacturers who experienced similar experiences we did, reps today will sign you up, tell you how wonderful your product line is, and suck you out of every dollar they can get before you catch on. The truth of it is, they will take their fees and free product without ever intending to take your line around and sell it. Their real goal is to grab as much as they can, hold onto you for six months to a year, at which time they will turn you over when new, unwitting replacements are in place. We know this to be true, we know it wasn’t just us because we’ve spoken to dozens of other artists and manufacturers who had the same exact experience we did. By the time you pay for samples, showroom fees, show fees, marketing materials, etc., you’ll be lucky if you break even and don’t declare bankruptcy. Misrepresentation–rather, let’s call it for what it is–lying– is the only way reps can stay in business in the age of of the internet.

You may wonder if we discontinued wholesaling. Not at all. In fact, we sell to many stores across the country, and some in Europe, too. They find us online. Every day.