Selling Photographs

by Gustavo de Paula
December 5, 2020

The Vendo Fotografias project was born from a simple premise: the utmost preservation of artistic freedom and the pursuit of circulation channels that could connect the work with those genuinely interested in it. In short, it was about allowing the artist to produce what inspired them and then finding a way to link that work to those who would appreciate it.

Six years have now passed since we began selling photographs, which have gradually expanded into other forms of imagery. This act of selling has also been, from the outset, an investigation. The original premise, although still central, has continuously been challenged by context, engaging in dialogue with it and maturing the project while strengthening its identity. From this dialogue, questions inevitably arise, many of which concern values—monetary or otherwise—formats and venues for the works, and their impact on the democratisation and dignification of the art, the artists, and the creative process as a whole.

The choice of the street as an exhibition space emerged from practical considerations at the time, but it soon became an environment genuinely aligned with our intentions. Even though we had works displayed elsewhere and engaged in other forms of partnership, it was on the street that our proposal seemed most faithful to our expectations. João and I would carry our frames and easels, initially setting up almost hidden in front of my grandmother’s house. Soon, we moved across the street, more visible. Eventually, we arrived at the town square, where under one of its trees we found a corner to stay for a considerable time, until we finally settled with a stall at the Sunday market there.

Selling photographs in this context provoked a wide array of reactions. Time has shown us—and reinforced—the idea that people tend to acquire images with which they form some connection, whether through content, format, location, or any kind of validation. Exhibiting in a popular environment, without a pre-defined audience (as opposed to a gallery or art fair), elicited curious critiques over time. For instance, a woman once objected to my photographing of dry vegetation in Northern Minas, arguing that there was “already enough” of that, and that I should instead depict lush, flowering plants. There were also criticisms regarding the very act of selling photographs, given that digital tools now allow most people to become image producers themselves, occasionally invoking the idea: “Why buy if I can photograph it myself?” In line with this reasoning, we were sometimes told that these images might hold value as drawings or paintings, but not as photographs.

We also faced questioning from artists and seasoned art aficionados more accustomed to traditional circulation paths, conventional exhibition formats, and exclusive environments. Some expressed sincere concerns that our approach might devalue the artworks and, more broadly, the art world itself. Defending galleries as spaces that strengthen their members, one artist emphatically stated that submitting work to a street fair would be unworthy, arguing that visual art should never be sold alongside bananas, except as a conceptual experiment by an already established artist.

Conversely, there was also positive surprise at the works. Initial scepticism often evolved into curiosity and interest. The initiative to offer photographs for sale in this context was generally well received, and it was occasionally remarked upon: why isn’t this done more often?

Engagement with the project unfolds at its own pace. Our neighbouring stallholder, initially indifferent, gradually developed a fondness for one particular photograph: a woman walking along a long path of dry, intensely warm vegetation. After several weeks, she picked up this image and said, “This path looks like the entrance to my mother’s farm.” The intention behind presenting the image at the market had finally been realised: the photograph had communicated, had resonated. Over time, she formed a connection with the work, moving from initial indifference to a sense of personal identification.

Cases like this demonstrate that our choices not only initiated circulation of our work but also helped integrate new audiences into the world of visual art. We often heard comments such as, “It’s beautiful, but I know nothing about art.” This phrase reflects a common notion that appreciation requires prior preparation or validation from an informed authority; personal affinity alone seems insufficient. Yet, presenting works tangibly, allowing them to be handled, providing context-specific viewing experiences, or simply exchanging ideas renders art more accessible and, to some extent, mitigates preconceived notions about the relationship between viewer and artwork.

Exhibiting our images in the public sphere, against conventional expectations of photography and observing the various responses this provoked, became a core point of interest—forming a key part of the essence of Vendo Photographs today.

Challenges and questions encountered at the markets intensified during periods of quarantine. Materiality—the tangible, concrete, touchable product, displayed amidst bustling crowds—was central to the project’s operations. Yet the essence of Vendo Photographs is the image itself, and exploring avenues of circulation necessitates discovering possibilities even in restricted circumstances. The digital realm then emerged as a novel tool. While new, it brought similar questions to those we had always faced.

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Interview

Darli Nuza is an artist with a keen eye on the art market, its flows, and implications. This interest intersects with her love for public markets and fairs, rich in scents, colours, and flavours—a typically Minas Gerais-inspired experimentation. This intersection formed the basis of her doctoral thesis at UNB: “Among Markets: A Poetics of Fairs, the Art Market, and Technology.” Comparing the logics of these two spheres revealed curious parallels, despite each having unique characteristics. The focus on art and technology introduces an additional layer of challenge, prompting reflections on materiality versus immateriality.

Q: During the early quarantine, many initiatives offered digital artworks for free, primarily out of solidarity. Later, monetisation began, prompting criticism from audiences who still perceived digital formats as temporary or emergency solutions. After months of quarantine, have you noticed any shift in the appreciation of digital works?

A: There are several points to consider. First, the audience: are we speaking globally, or focusing on the Brazilian context, which is my point here? In Brazil, audiences are generally not conditioned to purchase or pay for images and artworks. They may experience or appreciate them via social media, but even this happens with a certain delay. Second, digital media is often employed as a propagation or advertising tool rather than as an artistic medium in itself. Buying a digital work differs from using the internet to promote a physical piece: the digital precedes the purchase, but the product is printed and shipped afterward. There is no issue with this—it’s simply a different path. We continue to guide audiences to favour tangible, materialised artworks. Consequently, when a work is purely digital, scepticism increases, making purchases more difficult. Quarantine may have changed appreciation practices, but not necessarily buying habits. Prior to the pandemic, the purchase of digital works was not standardised, and this would not shift overnight. True valuation may emerge gradually, through free exposure first, leading eventually to sales.

Q: How is value assigned to predominantly reproducible, immaterial works, in a universe saturated with free and easily accessible alternatives?

A: Two immediate points come to mind. First, presentation matters. Since most audiences are unfamiliar with digital commerce, they intuitively compare it to tangible works they know. Digital works compete with physical ones, so thoughtful presentation is crucial. This includes considering before, during, and after the transaction, making the experience appealing. Selling is part of valuation, whether material or immaterial. Second, hybridity offers creative solutions. For example, I have a work partially material (5cm × 5cm) with a code linking to a website hosting the remainder. Similar strategies should be explored; immateriality demands new tools and approaches.

Q: Does exclusivity, limited editions, or audience selection inherently influence value? Can such criteria coexist with the democratisation of art?

A: Restricted access does not automatically equate to higher value. The “reproduction question” is often overstated. Take the Mona Lisa: widely reproduced and accessible in many formats, yet its value remains undiminished. Democratization can enhance appreciation rather than diminish it. It is more productive to examine factors contributing to an artwork’s value—awards, career milestones, exhibitions—than to focus on reproduction as a devaluing factor.

Q: Is it possible to sell art alongside bananas?

A: Absolutely, and I support it (laughs). The exchange of objects between marketplaces is natural. If artworks can traverse from the street to galleries and biennials, why not the other way around? I would love to see art displayed alongside bananas more often—it’s a welcome and playful disruption.