Affordable Art Fair 2026
- Richard M Crosbie
- May 20
- 10 min read
So, that was it. The ‘Big One.’
The main high-profile art fair that I will be involved in this year (that I know of) has come and gone. Like previous years, I’m left feeling emotionally drained and somewhat confused. From the adrenaline-fueled setup, the exhilarating highs of selling original artwork, sharing laughter with teammates, to the lows of aching knees, long stretches of inactivity, and soul-searching moments—it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster, exactly like the 3 previous years before it.
Before writing this blog post, I revisited my reports from the past two years, hoping to find insights or direction for this year's reflection. While many experiences were similar, I was surprised at how polite and carefully scripted my previous posts had been. They felt overly polished—bland, vanilla, and toothless.
Well, dear reader, this year I’m dropping the façade. It was tough.
This year, the Affordable Art Fair took place at the Hong Kong Convention & Exhibition Centre from May 14th to 17th, but the buildup, planning, and anticipation weighed heavily on me long before then.
Our team preparations began on the very last night of last year’s show at a dinner party at a local restaurant. As drinks loosened tongues, we shared highs, lows, and lessons learned, brainstorming how to improve. Overall, we agreed ‘Rogue Art’s’ debut on the Hong Kong art scene had been a success, transitioning from an online platform side venture into a real-world gallery presence.
At the dinner, I introduced a pricing strategy from my toy retail days called ‘Price Architecture’—offering entry-level, mid-tier, and big-ticket items to give customers choices and a sense of scale and an opportunity to upsell.
We also noted many galleries selling artworks featuring ‘Cats and Pandas,’ and jokingly, I said, “Next year, let’s all paint Cats and Pandas and hand out freebies!”
Surprisingly, some team members took me literally. When I saw their new artworks, I was both impressed and astonished. I had only been joking!
Day 1 – Wednesday, May 13th, 2:00 pm – 9:00 pm: Setup
We had a plan—well, nine plans, one from each of the nine artists on the ‘Rogue Art’ team. With everyone’s unique style from countries around the world, the team felt like a mini United Nations:
- Anastasia Akimenko (Russia, inks and acrylics)
- Andreas von Buddenbrock (Sweden, pen and ink)
- Casalina Hung (Australian Chinese, oils)
- Chatchawarn (Thailand, remote participation)
- Eric Chih (Hong Kong, watercolourist)
- Eric Luke (Hong Kong, figurative oil painter)
- Lara Whitmarsh (New Zealand, remote participation)
- Me! ( from the Valleys)
- Ya faa (Taiwan, acrylics)
Plus, two wonderful assistants, Foon and Kammy, giving up their spare time to help.
We planned to meet at 2 pm outside the exhibition hall with all artworks ready and hit the ground running. I suddenly remembered a quote I overheard once. If you want to make God laugh tell him your plans.
Then reality hit—one artist had a broken arm, three had to return to work suddenly, one overseas artist’s work had not arrived, and worse, no hall passes. Only four of us were available to set up. Facepalm.
Still, armed with ladders, drills, tape, tools, and a giant suitcase filled with 13 framed originals, I dived into the chaos. Space was tight with 18 meters of wall, 55 artworks to hang, and seven hours to complete.
The uneven floor, a non-working air-con, and malfunctioning laser levels only added to the challenge. I recalculated plans on the floor, measured every frame’s hanging mechanism, and slowly assembled the display. After four hours drenched in sweat, I stepped back, only to find a lunatic’s arrangement. Blue tack and spirit level restored some sanity.
I had to leave at 7:30 pm for a long-forgotten theatre booking, turning over unfinished walls to my desperate teammates. I rushed off, wondering if anything would still be hanging in the morning.
Day 2 – Thursday, May 14th, 4:00 pm – 9:00 pm: VIP Opening
I woke to a flood of WhatsApp photos—overnight, the team had transformed our booth into a professional, polished display. Incredible work from those who stayed late!
Having been present every day last year, I expected today’s VIP preview to be quiet but was completely wrong. Arriving at 3 pm, the hall was packed with people—was everyone a VIP?
I circled the exhibition to get my bearings, noting promising activity. At our stand, I found the frames slightly askew, proof the ‘Gremlins’ were at work overnight. Out came the spirit level and blue tack again.
At 7 pm, a local press photographer arrived for group photos. I also attended a lively British Consulate opening with familiar faces and flowing drinks. During a chat with the Consul General, I asked where he lived. “On the Peak,” he said, and I suddenly felt like I should have known that already. Ok Time to go.
Back at our booth, visitors lingered. Many admired my work, some clearly intrigued by the Hong Kong-centric themes. Attempts to introduce myself sometimes scared guests off, so I chose my moments carefully.
A lady asked if I had more paintings in the size of my “Green Tram.” I explained I had a junk boat painting in storage and showed her a small display of thumbnail images representing my collection. She nodded, vanished, and I wasn’t sure if she’d return.
Later, a champagne-waving group admired my paintings. I offered help, only for one woman to chuckle she had so much wall space she could take them all. My heart leapt, but she brushed off the offer with a smile and sashayed away.
And so goes my experience of VIP Thursday night at the Hong Kong Affordable Art Fair.
Day 3 – Friday, May 15th, 12:00 pm – 8:00 pm: The First Full Day
Arriving early, I brought in new paintings to replenish stock, just in case. While walking the hall, I juggled a WhatsApp exchange with a potential buyer who represented a group selecting a leaving gift. It turned out to be the same lady who asked about the Green tram and who saw the thumbnail picture of the Junk Boat.
The group had decided to go for the boat, even though no one had actually seen it in reality. The process was slow—consensus was needed, and she couldn’t return to view the painting in person.
Photos, certificates, and invoices were sent back and forth until finally, payment came through. My first sale! A red sticker on the wall tag—stupidly simple but deeply satisfying. Later a memeber of the buying group came to collect the packaged item. Still not seeing the full uncovered artwork.
Interestingly, the artwork sold was my latest piece, finished just days before the fair and never scanned for prints. It was a real one-of-a-kind.
The rest of the day was long and physically taxing. I spoke to many visitors, saw familiar faces, but made no additional sales, while my teammates had a strong day, red dots multiplying across their walls.
My half-joking suggestion for more ‘Cats and Pandas’ seemed to be paying off for some, along with the strategy of lowering prices that helped one artist who struggled last year do really well this year.
I considered lowering my prices but decided against it, knowing the effort behind each piece. Besides I didn’t want to start setting a president and if anything my prices should in theory be increasing year on year.
With just one sale, I decided to keep my two largest and priciest artworks at home rather than risk bringing them without much hope for buyers. A missed opportunity, perhaps, but necessary.
I went to bed weighed down by uncertainty.
Day 4 – Saturday, May 16th, 10:00 am – 7:00 pm: Make or Break Day
At 3:30 am, I jerked awake, stomach in knots, head racing. The familiar night terrors of anxiety, self-doubt, and second-guessing returned for a dark night of the soul.
“Why am I doing this to myself? Get a normal job with a salary and health insurance,” a tormenting voice whispered.
I tried to calm myself—breathe, relax, enjoy the experience. I pictured mindfulness exercises where thoughts pass like cars on a road. But I couldn’t stop the mental traffic.
Sitting on the sofa, I scrolled my phone for distraction but even cute dog videos couldn’t soothe me. A teammate was awake too, and our messages helped with the loneliness.
Trying to be productive, I edited videos and photos for social media—got to feed those hungry algorithms, right?
At dawn, I posted content and hoped the day would go better.
Back at the exhibition, walking around the show, some art felt bizarre, some impressive, and occasionally a gem spoke to me deeply. Comparing my Hong Kong-centric work to others, I wondered if I was limiting myself by focusing solely on local themes. Perhaps it was time to reconsider the cats and pandas idea.
But then I argued with myself. It is more of a question about what I like and what I want to paint. The reason I paint what I do is because I genuinely love it. I started painting and sketching the world around me as that is what attracts me emotionally and artistically and by an amazing series of events I find myself in the most incredible city in the world. I head back to my stand with increased determination.
Then, almost miraculously, within an hour, I sold four original artworks—including my highest-priced piece. No haggling, just appreciation. I was stunned and moved to tears hearing buyers’ stories: one piece heading to Vancouver, others as family mementos or decorations for a new home.
Energy restored and spirits high, I finished the day on a euphoric note and went to bed calm and hopeful saying a prayer of thanks as I closed my eyes.
Day 5 – Sunday, May 17th, 10:00 am – 7:00 pm: The Last Day
Back at the fair, reflecting on display placement, I realized there’s no significant difference between external and internal walls in sales per meter. Over four years and four wall sizes I have tried, the sales ratio stayed constant. Perhaps I was simply being too hard and unrealistic on myself.
Despite a busy day and lots of interest and smiling visitors, I sold no more artwork. Maybe taxis aren’t as popular I mused to myself since a child pointed out eight taxis in my paintings, prompting me to turn it into a fun quiz for visiting kids.
Many team members did well, though two sold nothing. I felt for them, especially one artist with undeniable talent but prices too high for our audience or maybe the rest of the team’s prices were too low. That may be a concern. One potential buyer asked to pay just a third of the asking price—a crazy offer.
Again I felt the temptation to lower my prices. Again I resisted. No. I’m worth more than that!
Instead of lowering my prices for existing artwork I could consider smaller pieces for future shows. But I am not reducing my prices for what is already on display. And with that the last few hours passed by.
As the fair closed, despite exhaustion, we packed up and headed to the local market for a seafood dinner, courtesy of our team leader Eric. Sharing stories and experiences, we celebrated successes, supported disappointments, and reviewed lessons.
Collectively, we sold 44 artworks—a solid increase from last year. Rogue Art’s business model is growing stronger, and we gained more valuable experience. Glasses raised, hopes high—for continued success!
In Review: Glass Half Full
Having completed my fourth fair, was it worth it? From a financial perspective, yes. I covered costs and made a modest profit—not as much as direct sales but enough to justify the effort. Selling five originals at full price in four days was better than usual.
Branding-wise, also yes. I fought to have our names displayed above our sections. Though the fair’s organizers informed me in the last hour of the fair that this was not allowed in a polite reprimand, saying, “You don’t need to put your name on the wall; everyone knows your artwork,” the comment felt strangely flattering. I hope that’s true!
Feedback from fellow artists was insightful: one recommended brighter colours to make my work pop, another suggested leaving some paper unpainted to give a less polished, more illustrative feel. Intriguing thoughts to ponder.
As ever, meeting customers in person and hearing their appreciation was deeply encouraging and validating. And I’m grateful to be part of a warm, supportive artist collective with fantastic team spirit throughout the event. I hope that I gave them as much warmth and encouragement as what I received from them.
In Review: Glass Half Empty
There’s no sugarcoating it—working with a collective instead of a gallery means dealing with the stress of setup and pack-down. Setup is a sweat fest, bringing excitement mixed with anxiety; pack-down is simply exhausting and a complete bun fight. Utter chaos!
With a gallery, there are no upfront costs—you just submit your work and pick it up after. But they take 50% of sales. Collectives take less commission but demand more personal investment. It’s a tricky balance.
Galleries have more prestige and, in theory, promote their artists, doing the heavy lifting. Collectives are self-starting: you get out what you put in. More risk, potentially higher reward. But I’m not naturally a gambler but nature, hence the feeling of constant stress.
Physically, my arthritic knees are not thanking me after long hours on my feet, especially after days without sales. That pain is a big minus.
Stress is part of the package, no matter the path. Even sitting at home might bring FOMO (fear of missing out). Art creation is the easier part; selling and promoting it is the real challenge.
The near misses and “what ifs” linger. Maybe some sales will materialize after the fair, but only time will tell.
Even though I was there every single day I know there were artworks that even I didn’t get to see whilst browsing. With 106 different stands, there must be thousands of pieces of art all vying for attention. I wonder how many perfect customers never actually got to see my work and how I might be able to connect with them again.
Lessons for Next Year (If I Decide to Return)
1. Measure and note the attachment ‘drop’ and midpoint on every frame’s back.
2. If no individual name signage is allowed—find other ways to promote my brand, like marketing materials and giveaways. Prepare more business cards and start an email list.
3. Improve the wall bio for better storytelling.
4. Less is more? Explore simplifying the display. Maybe have less artwork on display with more breathing room around each piece.
5. Pricing. I think I am going to stick to my guns. No discounting. Unless someone comes to buy them all Ha!
6. Consider whether I need to be physically present every day.
7. Detach emotionally to keep perspective.
8. Get a seating solution to ease physical strain.
9. Manage stress and emotions better—somehow. Maybe start smoking (or sniffing glue!).
10. Cats and Pandas.
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