I entered the professional art world on 8 October 2025. Like many emerging artists, I suddenly saw countless opportunities appearing everywhere. Open calls, competitions, online exhibitions, publications, and digital galleries all promised global exposure.
At first, it felt exciting. I thought: the art world has changed—artists can now reach audiences worldwide without relying only on traditional galleries.
So I started applying.
I submitted to competitions, received honorable mentions and finalist titles, exhibited in several online shows, and even got published. On the surface, it looked like progress.
But when I look back now, a different question emerges:
At what cost?
Over time, I realized that I had spent around $3,000 or more on submission fees, exhibition fees, publication fees, and platform memberships—simply to participate or exist in these spaces.
That realization made me pause.
How did I end up here?
I would say I was desperate, because I was searching for hope, and art gave me that. I wanted to reach collectors, curators, and the wider art world. But now I realize that many of those opportunities did not actually lead me anywhere.
In many ways, I feel just as new as I was when I first entered the art world—only now I carry more knowledge and awareness.
Looking back, I think it was a mix of numbness and desperation that brought me to this point.
Today, open calls appear in several forms. The ones I have encountered are:
- Free submission, pay later
- Submission fee
- No cost at all
- Pay to exist
- Applicant-funded model
Free submission, pay later:
This category itself is quite broad. The submission may be free, but later artists are often asked to pay for printing, framing, execution costs, administrative fees, or other expenses. However, I would not call everyone dishonest, because I understand that printing and framing do involve real costs.
I have been on some platforms that did provide opportunities which were genuinely worthwhile. But over time I realized that nothing is truly worth it unless the work is reaching the right audience—people who can understand and value it.
Because of this realization, I have also declined several publishing opportunities. Now I try to evaluate what is actually worth it and what is not. Paying a large amount of money just to have a page on a website is usually not worth it.
Today, I try to estimate the potential cost even before submitting. If these platforms are running a business, then artists also need to weigh the deal carefully. Of course, they will make a profit, and not all of the money goes directly into their pockets since there are operational costs involved. Still, the amount should remain reasonable.
In my view, such arrangements can make sense when the value of the opportunity and the exposure are somewhat balanced. However, offers that say “everyone is welcome” can be a bit suspicious—unless the initiative is clearly built around a genuine purpose or cause.
Submission fee:
In my experience, this is often the most questionable model. If you calculate the numbers, some of these open calls receive thousands of submissions, each paying a fee. With large follower counts, strong marketing, and the promise of respected juries, they create a sense of excitement and urgency around applying.
What I began noticing, however, is that many of these competitions already showcase the names of well-established artists. These are artists who are unlikely to apply to open calls in the first place. Yet when emerging artists see those names associated with the opportunity, it creates the impression that everyone is applying, which makes the call appear more credible and attractive.
Another pattern I observed is the indirect criticism that sometimes follows. Applicants may be told that their portfolio is weak, or that their CV, bio, or artist statement is not strong enough—followed by the suggestion that these services can be improved if the artist pays additional fees for professional rewriting or consultation.
In my own case, I even received numerical scoring on my artworks, and interestingly, two completely different submissions received almost identical scores and comments. In one instance, I was told that my work did not follow the theme—even though the theme of the call was “Open.” That raised serious questions for me about how carefully these submissions were actually being reviewed.
I once wrote back explaining that such scoring systems might hurt artists, especially when they are presented in a way that feels like ranking people rather than engaging with their work. I never received a reply.
Another strategy I noticed is the selection of artists who are very active on social media. Naturally, when they win or get selected, they share the news online, which brings even more visibility to the competition and attracts more applicants for the next round.
I personally received messages encouraging me to post my achievements on social media. I chose not to, partly because I have always preferred to let the work speak rather than the achievements.
That said, not every opportunity with a submission fee is dishonest. Some are genuinely organized and meaningful. The challenge is that identifying the genuine ones requires careful tracking and analysis, and not everyone has the time or the background to evaluate these systems closely. I tend to track details carefully—every call, every condition, every pattern—which has helped me understand how this part of the art world operates.
No cost at all:
These opportunities are harder to find because they are usually organized by museums or well-established galleries that already have strong revenue streams or external funding. Since they do not rely on artists’ fees to run their operations, they can focus on genuinely searching for artists rather than charging them to participate.
Sometimes publishers also operate this way. After selecting an artist, they may offer a small payment for publishing the work, although in some cases they may not pay. Even then, the cost involved for the artist is usually more of an opportunity cost rather than a financial one, and some artists may still consider it worthwhile for the visibility it can bring.
Pay to exist:
This is a model that, in some ways, many artists end up accepting. Platforms often operate on a subscription or membership basis, where artists pay in order to maintain a presence on the platform. In return, they offer visibility, networking opportunities, and potential connections with collectors or curators.
In a way, it can feel like a cost of existing within certain parts of the contemporary art ecosystem. However, the cost should always be carefully measured against the visibility and connections that the platform actually provides.
For artists who cannot regularly exhibit in physical galleries, have not yet been selected by them, or even those who have opportunities but cannot travel or participate physically, these models can sometimes serve as an alternative path to visibility.
That said, not every platform works equally well for every artist, so it is important to evaluate them thoughtfully. Personally, I still feel uncertain about this model. For me, it remains somewhat 50–50—something that may offer visibility, but only when approached carefully and with realistic expectations.
Applicant-funded model
In this model, artists are asked to pay a submission fee—often around $30 or more—with promises such as artwork transportation, no gallery fee, or free hanging if selected. At first glance, it may appear to be a great opportunity. However, in reality, only a small number of artists are ultimately chosen. The larger pool of applicants, through their submission fees, effectively finances the benefits given to those selected for exhibition.
In many cases, this money not only supports the selected artists but also leaves a portion with the organizers. While they may also invest some resources themselves, the structure is largely sustained by the fees paid by the applicants.
Conclusion:
I might have gone completely broke if I did not have savings from my earlier job and support from my husband’s business. I submitted to many opportunities with a lot of trust, often without questioning them enough, and only later did I realize that a large part of my savings had been spent without bringing meaningful results.
What troubles me even more is that many artists rely entirely on their art, often without financial support or other income sources. Every day, new artists enter the art world and encounter these opportunities that promise visibility. Yet, in many cases, the visibility mainly circulates within the same circle of artists—artists following artists, artists buying books, artists engaging with each other.
This raises an important question: where are the collectors? Most collectors are unlikely to be following or studying the results of numerous open calls.
Of course, my perspective may not capture the entire reality, and I could be wrong in some ways. But this is what I personally experienced and observed. I have been honored in some competitions and lost many others, and looking back now, I feel that only a few of those opportunities were truly worthwhile. The rest felt more like a system built on continuous submissions rather than genuine discovery.