Imagine a painting that you really like. Imagine that you see that painting for the first time at an opening in an art gallery (think a fancy, somewhat pretentious art galleryâ¦). You like the image, the colors, the technique, etc. Youâre impressed. You love that painting.
It would look awesome in your living room, wouldnât it? You have a chat with the artist, where she explains the concept and the process behind creating the painting, the materials used, and what it means to her. She tells a bit of her life story, and how and why she became a painter. You have a glass of wine; you discuss the painting with a few more people. They also like it.
At that moment, the image, on that wall, might be worth hundreds of dollars to you. Maybe even thousands. If you wanted it for yourself, thatâs what you would have to pay, and you know it.
OK, now, forget the art gallery. Think of the exact same image that you like, but imagine if the first time you saw it, it was on a wall at an Ikea store, on a busy Saturday morning, surrounded by shopping carts and loud kids. And there are 22 frames of that same image, lined up in a bin underneath it, for $29.99 each.
You might still think the image would look great on your living room wall. But at that moment, itâs definitely worth a maximum of $30 to you. Or maybe you donât ever want Ikea frames on your walls (you big snob)â¦ so for you itâs worth $0â¦even though you really like that image! Your âwall real estateâ is worth more than the frame.
So ask yourself, how can you explain the difference in perceived value for the exact same image at the gallery opening, and at Ikea?
Many possible answers here:
- the perceived scarcity (only one available at the gallery, and others might want it too)
- the personal connection with the artist
- the setting (fancy gallery, the free wine)
- the narrative attached to the art
- the materials (the original vs. the copy)
- the branding (maybe for you Ikea = cheap)
The list could go on. Thatâs the context. The artistic content (the image) has little value by itself, but, put into context, it becomes part of an experience. That can be worth a lot (buying original work straight from a cool artist), or it can be worth little (buying a frame at Ikea).
Music is the same! The song you just wrote wouldnât have the same value if your name was Dave Matthews (or Kanye) and you wrote the exact same song. Before anyone else has engaged emotionally with it, Iâm sorry but itâs only worth something to you. So, think about how your music can be valued, in terms of narrative, personal connections, perceived scarcity, branding, etc. Technology can help, by helping you create a narrative and a branding on your website (your bio, your design, your pictures) that make fans interested to hear more of your music.
Streaming services like Pandora or Spotify can help create contexts where new fans will discover your music. Communicating with your fans using your mailing list, blog, Facebook, Twitter, etc. can help create personal connections that make your fans attach even more value to your music. You create great experiences when you put on an amazing live performance, and promote it using online and offline tools. So, you need to be creative in making art, but also in creating contexts, and letting others create many and diverse contexts in which this art can be part of enjoyable and valuable experiences.
Put more simply, your music, by itself, isnât worth much. Itâs when put into context, when it becomes part of your fanâs enjoyable experience, that it becomes valuable. That can mean someone buying 2 CDs, a t-shirt and a poster at the merch table, or it can mean someone buying one track for $1.29 on iTunes.
Art gallery or Ikea? The role of technology tools is to help you multiply those possible contexts, and monetize them when you can.