Pleasure
690 creative works found
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Sixteen Ways to Increase Your Sales
by Stephen MitchellI’ve seen so many people still asking why they’ve still not sold any artwork on Redbubble! So I’ve compiled all my enterprising, marketin…
I’ve seen so many people still asking why they’ve still not sold any artwork on Redbubble! So I’ve compiled all my enterprising, marketing, sales and money-based articles written over the last two years. I really REALLY hope you enjoy reading and applying them into your sales-campaign. First, let’s take a look at you, the artist within. Wait, that sounds like the first article… 01. Defining the Artist Within / 02. I Have a Special Condition! / 03. Keep that Entrepreneurial Spirit Alive / 04. Two Crafty Ways to Become a High Profile Photographer / 05. Playing the Popularity Game Without Caring if You Win or Lose / 06. What Makes You Think Your Art is Good Enough? Here is the guts of this article, the really in-depth stuff that should help understand how to better use Redbubble in your venture to either make money or make a name for yourself: 07. Are You Selling More Artwork ? / 08. Helping YOU Make a Profit on Redbubble ! / 09. Pleasure from Profit from Pleasure / 10. Quality Marketing Equals Sales / 11. Selling Your Art Successfully / 12. Sell, Give, Donate and Use Your Skills / 13. My Marketing Strategy / 14. How to Sell Anything / 15. Selling My Artwork At Amended Prices / 16. Twelve Months on Redbubble The trick is to read each article, and then ask yourself: ‘How does this apply to my situation?’. I’m very sure you’ll find a way to incorporate the ideas I’ve used here to improve your situation and increase your sales! I look forward to hearing how much more sales you make over the next few months!! EDIT [11:32 PM 15/05/2009] / Some of you will now want to run an exhibition, gallery or stall of your artwork. For that I have compiled another list of links that should help you! / ... Running Sheet for Exhibitions Since this is my article, I have to get a few shameless-plugs in here somewhere. I have T-shirts for sale that will get you noticed! / ... Your Name on a PHOTOGRAPHER Shirt / ... Photographer Shirts / ... Redbubble Shirts for Artists, Writers and Photographers Postscript / I started writing simple tips that any Redbubble Artist could use. I don’t write them so much any more, but I keep them here for my own reminder. I hope you enjoy these two that relate to this post enormously: / ... Tip #001 / ... Tip #004
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©2007-2008 Aimee Stewart, Foxfires – please see my CC Terms of Use before considering using this image for any personal or commercial use http://foxfires.deviantart.com/journal/6266450/ / —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—- “When the wind is blowing and the sleet or rain is driving against the dark windows, I love to sit by the fire, thinking of what I have read in books of voyage and travel.” – Charles Dickens “Let your bookcases and your shelves be your gardens and your pleasure-grounds. Pluck the fruit that grows therein, gather the roses, the spices, and the myrrh.” ~Judah Ibn Tibbon “A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted. You should live several lives while reading it.” / William Styron “A well-composed book is a magic carpet on which we are wafted to a world that we cannot enter in any other way” / Caroline Gordon All stock credits can found HERE – click to view My other picture in this series, called Ex Libris, can be found here: /
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A moment of youthful exuberance.
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Self Portrait. I’ve become a bit of a solitaire addict as of late, so I guess you could call this my Guilty Pleasure!! / Experimenting with my new wireless remote, which is a bitch to use by the way. This is my White Rabbit photo for my Alice in Wonderland Series, it’s not quite the same style, so I haven’t made a big thing out of it, just tacked it on the end. But yes. It’s the white rabbit. Canon 450D. No geeky stuff, I can’t be bothered, it’s not like you miss it. ...I must admit though, I didn’t take the picture of the cards (shock horror!!) because I couldn’t find any. Instead, you can find it here somewhere in the middle of the page.. I’m sorry guys!! Cross-processed and the like on Photoshop CS3. Featured in: / The Woman Photographer / Redbubble Homepage 11th June 2009 / Canon DSLR / Model Beginnings / Young Enthusiasts x2 / That One Great Shot / Challenge Weekly / Artrageous RB artists
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Bubblegum Pop… it’s a guilty pleasure. :) ©2007-2008 Aimee Stewart, Foxfires – please see my CC Terms of Use before considering using this image for any personal or commercial use http://foxfires.deviantart.com/journal/6266450/ / (Do not repost this on Photobucket or Flickr!) Wikipedia: / http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubblegum_pop —-—-——- nadinepau-stock: http://nadinepau-stock.deviantart.com/art/Russian-gramophone-60485971 intergalacticstock: http://intergalacticstock.deviantart.com/art/Bubblicious-8-51186553 brushes: anarasha-stock.deviantart.com, falln-brushes.deviantart.com and / http://www.sxc.hu/photo/941243 textures: dholms.deviantart.com
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Model: Helen Canon EOS20D DSLR / Editing in CS3 www.daviezimages.com
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Canon 350D lens 17-40 mm / River stream in the forest.
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People on a Fire Island beach looking for colored beach glass and pretty stones. Click once on image to enlarge. / / / /
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Child with crown smelling yellow wildflower. Photo based illustration.
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Taken with a Canon EOS 400D and 150mm macro lens
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A passion for strawberry – SOLD as Card Links to my other works: / NATURE / PORTRAITS / TRAVELLING / VARIOUS
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Strawberries and Jasmine / Kanji: Living Only for the Pleasures of the Moment / Detail: /
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The pier at Juno Beach, Florida at sunrise.
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I have been trying out various black and white methods and I thought I should give this one a go. / I took this picture without them knowing. / It looked like although the grandfather didn’t have much money, he still managed to buy is grandson an ice cream. Taken in Bristol on Colston Street.
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André’s creation: eclectic pleasures
by Maxwell EdwardBlack and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words…
Black and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words. This jazzy rendezvous has always been André’s favourite ear-food. He just loves the way its beauty, splendour, radiance is ‘unleashed’. André stares at the canvas for over a dozen times. Here he is staring at the blank space which is future marvel…or was it to be past marvel? Had he missed his chance, missed the boat which would have sailed to sentimental stardom? He refuses to collaborate more than a sentence for any one idea. Any idea that deserves a sentence must deserve no doubt. Any canvas is only worth the greatest ideas. Two André’s exist; though only one at any one time. The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions. On rare occasions the other character may appear, the intensive, massively determined André who acts on impulses. Impulsive André must be begged out. A Pandora’s Box of surprises, his job will at least never cease to astonish. “Dearest André, Through years have you befriended my son Louis, so therefore I am offering an opportunity to benefit both of our interests (with intent towards your gain). Litton inc., my company has stepped up towards mainstream success. We require visual arts for our newly bought edifice. I understand you have been painting for the eight years since high school. To your discretion I would like to require a painting; just one will suffice. I would like something vibrant and colourful, yet deep and meaningful; Contemporise to your own vision. Much thanks, Dr. Raymond Fonck.” The commissioned paper lies stuck on the wall. André has read it. Now it is time for the future. It has been too long sitting around (or rather bouncing around); too get too much productivity from anything. Someone once said to him that anything is good experience. True perhaps, although he prefers productivity, especially in a time of intensity such as this; three days left until confrontation. His vigilant eyes stroll around the room, searching for advice. He is not bored, nor has he painters block, for such a term does not exist and will not ever for him. His eyes strike the clock. The clock glares 5:48 pm back. What a disgusting fierce look it has. Not 5:45, nor 6:00 and only one uncomfortable minute in-between. For at this time these uncomforting three digits add to the frustration in the actual time. “Aw!” André suddenly realizes the importance of the time. It is the one factor which never seems to be on his side but actually encourages his total progress. It is an epiphany like that of a mother to the newborn. André decides to let his hands take / control. They are the secret key, (sometimes the gatekeepers of unleashing impulsive André) His dominant left one picks up the brush (over time it has made up for its fault of statistically losing him seven years). His right hand decides to lose cognition. It dips itself into a little puddle of Sangria oil paint muck. Than it flies onto the near-centre of the canvas, smeared diagonally. His left hand takes initiative once again, waving lines of smudge to and fro. Right hand brings more paint to its destination. Myrtle, Indigo, Olive, Magnolia…and no, not that…Yes, yes, even black! (Well seal brown to be precise). All of these contextually beautiful colours unleashed! There are no thoughts in André’s mind now. This is impulsive André now; organised thought is of little importance! That colour is important here. This colour is unimportant there. A few lines of any colour are important right here or there, but perhaps a darker colour is better. More negative space up and down the edges. Shape is forming. Lines are bolding. Complete non-representational form is diminishing. Visualizations; the visualized images in mind are being…unloaded bit by bit. It is coming about. What is it though? No one knows. If anybody could guess it definitely would not be André. André knows he has the power to bring out the reality in it though. In a seemingly paradox situation he must not connect to reality at the moment though. Now, after these hours of painting, André is in the painting. He would not know it has been hours besides the constant glare of the illuminating digital clock staring from across the room; it unconsciously processes its recognition into André. The phone screams out, ‘br-ring, br-ring!’ Like the other external matter it creeps into André, until finally its screams become too annoying to ignore. It’s too late now…impulsive André has vanished; his conventional counterpart has replaced him. The phone persists though. André decides to take it (typical for his returned mannerism). He dives across the room horizontally attacking the corner where that nuisance phone lies. ‘Aw, aw, aw, aw!’ A tube of paint has squirt from underneath his stomach. Agonising that his material friend can be so painful at times (like any of his life long friends). He picks up the phone; only the tone. He has missed whatever, whoever it was. Once again, missing the boat… Now thought and all that comes with it has returned. Why now out of all times possible? There is only sadness, misery, all this escalated from these small miniscule misfortunes; all has turned to turmoil! What can one do, when feeling like crawling into a hole? His secret minor disorders such as his claustrophobia would prevent him from crawling into that hole, even if he had one. At the moment everything feels like one big hole. Not surprisingly André’s eyes begin doing the only thing they know to do in times of unrest; wander. It is impossible to ignore what is there; it has been there all along, yet has never been seen. It is beautiful! It is splendour! It is radiance!! It is interrupted by another scream of ‘br-ring br-ring’. André picks up the damn phone. Without contemplation he whispers, “Sir, madam, I’m very terribly busy, could you perhaps call back sometime?” A deep sophisticated voice replies, “Raymond Fonck, André. Listen, I need to know about the progress of the painting. How is it going; ready to sell on Friday?” Many emotions garner at the speed of light inside André allows these emotions to clash inside of him. The painting; it is beautiful, splendour, radiance! How could he give it away now, after an indescribable series of emotional contributions? It is something that has not been attempted before; yet it is new but the expression of old. It is everything, at the moment, hopefully containing more interpretive inoculations for the future. It is a subject, of just some time, yet it contains a collaboration of detail separated from time. It is…once again interrupted by screams, this time of another sort; the infuriating talking of man. “André. Are you there?” Feelings of great rebellion sweep André off his feet. He knows how he will revolutionize his life, because after all; this painting has revolutionized his thought already. “Mister Fonck. I am so sorry. Some things have come over me…a type of sickness…although I am sure you are not aware of this mad syndrome I am suffering due to it. Well to the point, I must say I will not be supplying you with your wanted artwork. Thank you for your understanding. Hopefully we can collaborate something in future.” André hangs the phone up without replies, without a stated understanding from the mister Fonck. Without even the knowledge of acceptance or approval from the mister Fonck…it does not matter. All that matters is this new painting, this contemporised vision. It is everything. Most importantly of all, it is…unleashed!
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Fractal art. Life is complicated enough. Take time to appreciate the simple things that life has to offer. © 2008 Dave Moilanen
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Dark brooding storm clouds (in a most fascinating formation) roll over the red sands of the desert today, bringing with them the long forgotten pleasures of rain. Captured at Uluru (1st November 2008). [Creative Effects: Brightness/contrast/shadow adjustments, omni spotlight with Photoshop]
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Self Portrait in my kitchen.
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THE PILGRIM / A rich and lovely country wide unrolled, / A fair face by me, heavens where white clouds sail, / Why does my heart forever still bewail / Far-distant lands, more distant days of old? / Litwa! your roaring forests sang more bold / Than Salhir maid, Baydary nightingale; / Id’rather walk your marshes than this vale / Of mulberries, and pineapples of gold. / Here are new pleasures, and I am so far! / Why must I always sigh distractedly / For her I loved when first my morning star / Arose? In that dear house I may not see, / Where yet the tokens of her lover are, / Does she still walk my ways and think of me? Words by Adam Mickiewicz -The National Poet of Poland Music Edyta Gorniak & Jose Carreras – Hope for us Acrylics, pigment, graphite and gold leaf / 100×42 cm on paper
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