How to Write an Artist Statement for Local Exhibitions
By Herehood Team
A practical guide to writing an artist statement that works in neighbourhood exhibitions — from cafe walls to community galleries. Clear advice, no art-world jargon.
How to Write an Artist Statement for Local Exhibitions
You have made the work. You have found a space — maybe a cafe down the road, maybe a community gallery, maybe a venue that said yes when you asked. Now someone wants a few paragraphs about what you do and why you do it. This is where most artists freeze.
An artist statement should not be painful to write or painful to read. It is a short piece of text that helps someone standing in front of your work understand a little more about what they are looking at. That is all it needs to do.
Here is how to write one that works, especially when you are exhibiting in your neighbourhood rather than a formal gallery.
What an artist statement actually is
An artist statement is a short written text — usually 100 to 300 words — that accompanies your work in an exhibition. It tells the viewer who you are, what you make, and why it matters to you. It sits alongside your art, giving people a way in.
In a traditional gallery, the statement often does heavy conceptual lifting. In a local exhibition — a cafe wall, a bookshop shelf, a community hall — it does something simpler. It creates a connection between the person who made the work and the person standing in front of it. It gives your neighbour a reason to care.
This is actually easier to write than the academic version. You are talking to real people, not a grants panel.
Before you write a single word
Spend ten minutes thinking about these questions. You do not need to answer all of them, but they will help you figure out what belongs in your statement.
About the work itself:
- What materials do you use, and why those materials specifically?
- Is there a subject or theme that keeps showing up in your work?
- What does the viewer see first — colour, texture, shape, subject?
About your process:
- Where do you make the work? A studio, a kitchen table, a shed?
- How long does a typical piece take?
- Is there a step in your process that would surprise someone?
About the why:
- What got you started?
- What keeps you going?
- If you had to explain your work to a friend over coffee, what would you say?
That last question is the most useful one. The answer you would give a friend is almost always closer to the truth than anything you would write trying to sound like an art catalogue.
A simple structure that works
You do not need to reinvent the form. Most good artist statements follow a loose three-part structure:
1. What you make (one to two sentences)
State your medium and what kind of work you create. Be specific enough to be useful. "I make art" tells the reader nothing. "I paint small-scale landscapes of Melbourne's inner-north suburbs" tells them exactly what they are looking at.
2. Why you make it (two to four sentences)
This is the heart of the statement. What draws you to this subject, this material, this way of working? The reason does not need to be dramatic. "I started painting the streets around my studio because I wanted to notice things I had been walking past for years" is honest and clear. That is enough.
3. What you hope the viewer takes away (one to two sentences)
This is optional but often effective. It gives the reader permission to have their own response. "I hope these pieces make you look at your own neighbourhood a little more slowly" is a gentle, generous way to close.
What good looks like
Here is an example of a statement written for a local exhibition:
I make hand-built ceramics — bowls, cups, and small vessels — using stoneware clay and simple wood-ash glazes. Each piece is shaped without a wheel, which means no two are exactly alike.
I am drawn to functional objects because they live alongside people. A bowl that someone eats breakfast from every morning becomes part of their daily life in a way that a sculpture on a plinth never quite does. I want my work to be touched, used, and quietly present.
These pieces were made in my studio in Northcote over the past six months. I hope they find their way into kitchens and onto tables where they belong.
That is 112 words. It is clear, warm, specific, and completely free of jargon. Someone reading it in a cafe while waiting for a flat white would understand it immediately.
Common mistakes to avoid
Writing for other artists instead of for viewers. Your statement will most often be read by people who are not artists. They do not know what "liminal" means in an art context. They should not need to. Write in plain language.
Being too vague. "My work explores the relationship between space and memory" could describe ten thousand artists. What specific space? What specific memories? The more concrete you are, the more your statement sounds like you and no one else.
Hiding behind theory. If you find yourself reaching for academic language to describe work that is fundamentally about colour, or texture, or place, stop. Say what you mean. The most respected artists in any medium are the ones who can explain their work simply.
Writing too much. In a local exhibition context, 150 to 250 words is ideal. Anything over 300 words risks losing the reader. A person standing in a cafe is going to give your statement about 30 seconds. Make those seconds count.
Forgetting to update it. Your statement should reflect the work in the exhibition, not the work you were making three years ago. If your practice has shifted — different materials, different subjects, different concerns — your statement should shift with it.
Adapting your statement for different contexts
The core of your statement stays the same, but you may want to adjust it depending on where you are exhibiting.
For a cafe or venue wall: Keep it short — 100 to 150 words. Include your name, medium, and a line or two about the work on display. People are not there specifically for art, so your statement needs to earn their attention quickly.
For a community gallery or group exhibition: You can go slightly longer — up to 250 words. If the exhibition has a theme, briefly connect your work to it.
For your online profile: Your statement on a platform like Herehood can be a little more expansive, since the viewer has specifically sought out your work. Include a line about where you are based — it helps neighbours discover artists near them.
For an open call submission: Check the requirements. Some open calls ask for a specific word count or format. Follow it exactly.
Getting it on paper
If you are stuck, try this exercise. Set a timer for ten minutes. Write without stopping, without editing, without worrying about quality. Answer this prompt: "I make _____ because _____." Then put it away. Come back the next day, read it fresh, and pull out the sentences that sound most like you.
The best artist statements are not written — they are found. They are buried somewhere in the honest, unguarded things you say about your work when you are not trying to impress anyone.
One last thought
Your statement is not a sales pitch. It is not a biography. It is a small bridge between your work and the person looking at it. If it helps someone understand what they are seeing, it has done its job.
Write it in your own voice. Keep it honest. Update it when your work changes. And remember that the art itself is always the main event — the statement is just a way to hold the door open a little wider.
If you are preparing for a local exhibition and want to connect with spaces in your area, Herehood's how it works page explains how creators and venues find each other.