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Commissioning a piece: what actually happens

A commission is a working relationship with a deadline. What to send, what to agree in writing, where projects go wrong, and how long it really takes.

Super Admin4 min read
Commissioning a piece: what actually happens

Commissioning sounds grand and is mostly logistics. Someone makes a thing that did not exist, to fit your room and your reason, and the difference between a good experience and a bad one is almost entirely decided in the first conversation.

Write a brief that constrains the right things

The useful brief is specific about the fixed constraints and quiet about the creative ones. Give exact dimensions, the wall it is going on, the light it will get, the palette of the room, the deadline, and the budget. Then say what you responded to in the artist’s existing work and stop. Briefs that specify composition tend to produce work that satisfies the brief and nobody’s eye.

Send photographs of the actual space, in daylight and at night. An artist choosing between two greens will make a better decision with a picture of your wall than with any adjective you can supply.

What to agree before anything starts

  • Price, and what it includes. Framing, stretching, packing and shipping are frequently separate. Ask.

  • The deposit. Somewhere between a third and a half is normal, and it is not a courtesy — it buys materials and blocks studio time.

  • Revision rounds. Two is standard: one at sketch stage, one before finishing. Unlimited revisions is a bad deal for both sides and produces worse work.

  • What happens if you do not like it. The honest answer is usually that the deposit is not refunded and the piece stays with the artist to sell. Agreeing that up front removes the fear from the conversation.

  • Timeline, with a date, not a season.

The stages, roughly

  1. Conversation and brief. A week, usually, with a few messages.

  2. Sketch or study. You approve a direction, not a preview. A tight sketch of a loose painting is a lie about what you will receive.

  3. The work itself. Silence during this stage is normal and healthy. Ask for one progress photo at the midpoint if you need it, and then leave them alone.

  4. Curing and finishing. Oil needs weeks before varnish and months before it should be shipped somewhere cold. This is the stage clients forget to budget for.

  5. Packing and delivery.

How long it really takes

For a mid-sized painting, six to twelve weeks from agreement to delivery is realistic, and most of that is not painting. For woven or ceramic work the constraint is drying and firing, which cannot be hurried without ruining the piece. Anyone promising a two-week turnaround on an original is either between projects or about to disappoint you.

The best commissions are the ones where the client was clear about the constraints and generous about everything else.

What to send with the brief

  • Photographs of the wall, in daylight and under the lamps you actually use at night.

  • A measurement in both directions, plus the height of anything below it.

  • Three works of theirs you like, and one sentence each on why. This is the single most useful thing in any brief.

  • One thing you do not want. Constraints are a gift; a brief with no boundary at all produces the most anxious work.

  • The deadline and what it is for. "Before we move in on the 12th" is actionable. "Soon" is not.

Where commissions actually go wrong

Almost never over quality. The recurring failures are these: a brief that specified the composition rather than the constraints; a client who went quiet for six weeks and then asked for a fundamental change; a deadline agreed without allowing for drying or curing time; and money discussed only at the end. All four are avoidable in the first conversation.

The other one worth naming is scope creep by affection. A commission that starts as one painting and becomes a diptych because the conversation went well needs a new price, and both sides usually feel awkward saying so. Say it anyway, early.

Reading a sketch honestly

A sketch approval is the moment to raise anything structural — the composition, the palette, the format. It is not the moment to reserve judgement politely and hope. Artists overwhelmingly prefer a direct "the balance feels wrong on the left" at sketch stage to a diplomatic silence followed by disappointment at delivery.

If you would not say it out loud to the artist, do not think it quietly and wait. The sketch exists precisely so that changing your mind is cheap.

Paying

A third at agreement, a third at sketch approval, a third on completion is a fair and common structure. Pay each stage promptly. A studio is a small business with material costs and no invoicing department, and being paid on time is a larger kindness than most clients realise.

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