Preparing for Your Exhibition: A Survival Guide by Tom Sliter

So you’ve decided to share your photographs with the world. Congratulations. You are about to discover that making the photographs was the easy part.

The first thing any aspiring exhibitor must do is visit your collaborator — the gallery — in person with a tape measure and a camera. This is the moment you realize that the wall you imagined hanging your thirty best images on is actually somewhat smaller than a ping-pong table. Bring a notebook. Revise your ambitions accordingly.

With your newly adjusted expectations in hand, it’s time to revisit your sequencing. The question of which image goes where, in what order, and at what size will consume more time than you expect. What felt like an obvious through-line in your head becomes a complete jumble when laid out on the floor of your living room — especially given the unbelievably small space the gallery has provided. Enlist a friend whose eye you trust, and leave the work on the floor for a few days (spousal/partner acquiescence obtained). Return to it daily and either reaffirm your judgment or readjust. Don’t skimp on this part. The sequence matters. It is the difference between a show and a pile.

Now, about your bank account. Matting and framing costs approximately what you paid for your first camera, and then some. There is a reason experienced photographers speak of professional framing in hushed, slightly pained tones. The materials are archival, the craftsmanship is real, and the bill is sobering. DIY framing is possible and can achieve acceptable results, but it requires a reputable supplier, decent tools, and hand-eye coordination somewhat beyond moving a mouse to adjust exposure. It is not for everyone. Whichever route you choose, resist the temptation to cut corners — the quickest way to undermine a body of work that took three years to make is to frame and mat it in a way that diminishes the quality of your art.  I’ll discuss the ‘glazing conundrum’  a critical choice in a future MEG Features.

Next, you will need a timeline. A proper timeline works backward from your opening date and assigns realistic intervals to each task: printing, proofing, matting, framing, glazing, transport, installation, and the inevitable reprint of the one image you were sure was perfect until you saw it at full size. Photographers who skip this step are identifiable at openings because they look like they haven’t slept since September.

Do not neglect promotion. Your work deserves an audience beyond your immediate family and the three friends who already own a print. Update your website. Send postcards. Learn just enough about Instagram not to embarrass yourself. Write an artist statement — one that actual humans can read without consulting a dictionary of contemporary art theory. This is harder than it sounds.

Finally: your labels, your pricing, your guest book, your business cards, and the question of what exactly happens at a reception when someone points at your most technically demanding image and asks if it was made by AI. The answer is no, it was not made by AI. Smile warmly. Hand them a card.

An exhibition is an act of extraordinary optimism — the belief that the things you have seen and made are worth other people’s time and attention. They probably are. And they deserve to be presented as such.