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Hi, Reader!

Welcome back to my newsletter!

I won it again!

Last week I returned to Westhampton, but I didn’t expect to win again—I figured they’d probably give the award to someone else for the sake of balance. Yet they still awarded me First Place in Photography.

I had a terrific show: lots of compliments, great conversations, and many new customers. The photo above shows a happy collector of Fog Lake, Mary, and her lovely daughter.

Once again, "One, Two, Three" became the star of the show. Except for the one hanging in the booth, every other copy I brought to show has been sold, 11 in total, surpassing the previous record of 10 copies set in Westport. Another Westport record was also broken: a new personal best for total sales at a single show was achieved at the Wickford Arts Festival, where five large-format prints were taken straight off the wall.

2025

2025, so far, has been fantastic for me. Compared to the same period last year, sales are up 53%, and the number of prints sold is up 35%. I never imagined this. In fact, I had guessed it might be a tough year and even canceled a few shows in Chicago and DC.

I did notice a shift in behavior: people with tighter budgets have become more cautious with spending. Even some well-off collectors have stopped buying—perhaps simply because they’ve run out of empty walls to fill.

Overall, the art market has been in a downturn for three years. In 2024, art sales fell below pre-pandemic levels, and this year, auction sales dropped another 6% in the first half. Many artists I’ve spoken with said their sales have declined significantly. It’s a strange situation—especially considering the stock and real estate markets are hovering near all-time highs.

On Sunday in Westhampton, I saw many people walking away with framed photos in the same style. Curious, I asked who the artist was. The answer stunned me: they were free. The artist was giving them away. He refused even a donation, and people said he seemed very upset.

I tried to find his booth, but it was already empty. No one was there anymore. By the time I finished breaking down, the sky was dark. I was the last one to leave. At the corner of the field, his empty booth still stood. He had abandoned everything—even his equipment. What happened? A disastrous show? A psychological breakdown? Or something else?

I know exactly how it feels when things don’t sell—the weight of expenses piling up. I remembered, when I was still a start-up owner, those many sleepless nights worrying about how to make payroll next week. It’s not easy. It’s never easy. When I think back on my own mistakes, maybe the biggest one was being too cowardly to go for the ultimate goal because it was too difficult. The second might be never learning when to cut my losses.

Did I become wiser? I don’t know. But the image of that empty booth in the darkness still haunts me. I hope he finds a new path, soon.

Chasing Illusions

Now is the time for the exclusive photos for you. Let me begin with this one:

When I was in Japan, I often found myself walking on the wrong side of the path. Being right could mean being wrong — Japan, like England, the left is the right direction forward. In this image, most walks along one side of the knife-shaped light stripes. Only one person walks the other. It might be randomness — or perhaps a glimpse into the collective subconscious.

This location is called International Forum, a public convention center in Tokyo. It is known for its avant-garde architecture of transparent roof. I imagined a scene of light spots, and in each spot, there is a person. After 4 hours of waiting and countless attempts, I got this:

Many years ago, when I first began submitting my work to photo competitions, I assembled a series of dog photographs. One showed a limping old dog trailing behind its owners — an image that moved me deeply. But the reviewer offered nothing meaningful in response, except to note that the series looked cohesive because all the photos were in black and white. It pained me that no one else seemed to see what I saw.

Later, I realized how absurd it was to expect people to spend extended time studying my photos to uncover their meaning. In reality, I have a second — or less. Every artwork carries something it wants to say, but if the visual isn’t strong enough to stop someone in their tracks, it’s futile. Even an emotion-evoking piece relies entirely on the power of its visual to win view time.

I started to drown in visuals. I tried to stop thinking, stop counting, stop naming. Instead, I began to see in a different language — one of color, shape, and light — how they speak to each other, not through human words, but in a language of their own. I trained myself to search for reflections, shadows, silhouettes — all the indirect images, the “unreal” things. I began to see the world as it is, without concepts or categories. That’s how I discovered the beauty of illusions. Then, I found my way back to express myself.

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This wraps up this episode of my report to you. In August, I have just one show left — the Mystic Art Festival, one of my favorites. I hope to see you there. And wherever you are, I wish you a wonderful summer. Take care!

Sincerely,

Zili

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