You need three bios, not one
Most artists have one biography—maybe one long page, maybe shorter. The problem isn't the writing. It's the assumption that one-size-fits-all is possible. It isn't. Different contexts require completely different lengths, different emphases, different information hierarchies. You need three versions: quick (one or two sentences), standard (three to five sentences), and expanded (one to two paragraphs). Having all three ready is professionalism. It's also freedom—you'll never again scramble to find the right words when someone asks.
Why the multiplication? Because curators reviewing fifty exhibition proposals read one sentence. They're forming an impression in seconds. Gallery catalogues need approximately five sentences—enough to give viewers context. Magazines and serious interviews want the full narrative. Grant applications have different requirements. A website's About section serves different purposes than a press kit. One biography forces you to either truncate brutally (losing important information) or send something too long for the context (and nobody will read all of it). Three versions let you be right for every situation.
Version one: one or two sentences for immediate contexts
This is your introduction sentence. Use it constantly. Catalogue captions. Exhibition programmes. Artist bios in group shows. Your Instagram bio if space allows. Answers at gallery openings when someone asks what you do. You have ten seconds to create an impression.
The formula is straightforward: name, location, primary medium, and one distinguishing element that makes you memorable. "Sarah Matthews—London-based painter exploring memory through large-scale portraiture." "James Chen—Belfast sculptor whose work appears in the Arts Council collection." The key is specificity and immediate clarity. A collector will remember "she paints enormous portraits about memory." They won't remember "she's a painter working with various themes." One is vivid. One is forgettable. One sentence is your hook. You're not explaining everything. You're intriguing someone enough that they want to know more.
This version lives in a world of extreme brevity. Don't overload it. One sentence works. Two maximum. Every word matters. "Contemporary artist" is generic. Every sentence you read is "contemporary." Be specific. What medium, what place, what distinguishes your practice from thousands of others? That specificity is what sticks.
Version two: three to five sentences as your working standard
This is your workhorse biography. You'll use this constantly: open calls, catalogue descriptions, your website's About section, professional press kits, residency applications. Spend real time editing this version. It matters.
The structure follows a logical progression. Sentence one: who you are, medium, location. Sentence two: what your work explores thematically or conceptually. Sentence three: techniques, materials, or approach. Sentence four: major exhibitions, prestigious residencies, notable collections. Sentence five: education and current location if not already mentioned. This structure tells a story: who you are, what you think about, how you work, where you've shown, what training you had.
Here's a quality version: "Sarah Matthews (b. 1990, London) is a large-scale painter working primarily in oils and acrylics. Her practice investigates how memory shapes our understanding of architectural space, particularly focusing on overlooked buildings and forgotten details. She works intuitively, combining archival photography with gestural mark-making, creating surfaces that feel both documentary and deeply personal. Matthews has exhibited at the Whitechapel Gallery, the Serpentine Sackler, and the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. She completed a residency at the Gasworks in 2023 and holds an MA from the Royal College of Art."
Notice: not every exhibition is listed, only the strongest ones. Each sentence earns its space. Not one word is wasted. Compare to a weak version: "Sarah went to RCA. She painted in London. She exhibited at Whitechapel and some other galleries too. She paints buildings. She lives in London." That version is vague, repetitive, and forgettable. It doesn't convey who Sarah is or why anyone should care.
A good five-sentence bio takes real effort. Ask yourself about each sentence: is this necessary? Can it be tighter? Only list your strongest exhibitions—if you've had thirty shows, pick five that matter. If you've been selected for three residencies, all three belong. If you're in a museum collection, that's crucial information. Skip local group shows. Public collections outrank private ones. The selection is curatorial—you're choosing what defines you professionally.
Version three: expanded biography for serious contexts
This version appears less frequently—in museum catalogues, serious grant applications, detailed magazine interviews, when important curators or collectors are researching you. Don't underestimate its importance. Grant panels read this. Serious institutions read this. It matters.
The expanded version tells a deeper story. Not chronology but narrative: how you came to art, why certain themes matter to you personally, how your practice evolved, key projects that shaped your work, supporting institutions that believed in you. You're painting a portrait of yourself as a thinking artist with a developed practice.
Example: "Sarah Matthews began her artistic practice as a documentary photographer, but shifted to painting after a residency in Berlin in 2017, where she was documenting Soviet-era architecture. This exploration evolved into a larger inquiry about architecture and human memory—how spaces transform, how we remember places, how buildings disappear and are forgotten. Her large-scale oil paintings often incorporate traces of everyday life, fragments of archival photographs, and gestures that suggest both intimacy and loss. She initiated a collaborative project with the Geffrye Museum in 2023 exploring suburban domestic interiors, and her work has been included in several significant exhibitions. Matthews works primarily from archival materials and photographic sources, transforming documentary imagery into meditations on time, memory, and displacement. She maintains a studio in London."
Even expanded, this stays disciplined. One or two paragraphs, 200–250 words maximum. People scan. They read headlines and first/last sentences. That's contemporary reading behavior. You can't fight it. Work with it. The opening sentence should be compelling. The closing should leave an impression. Everything in the middle should support one of those two sentences.
Context shapes which version to use
The one-sentence version is your introduction. Gallery opening, someone asks what you do, you have ten seconds. That sentence needs to be memorable enough that they remember it after the conversation ends. The five-sentence version is your professional standard—the default biography you'll use most. It appears in submissions, on websites, in press materials. It contains enough information that a serious gallery understands your practice without feeling overwhelmed. The expanded version is for deep engagement. Reserve it for serious contexts where someone is investing significant time in understanding your practice. A magazine doing a feature. A museum catalogue. An important residency where they want the full story. Don't waste the expanded version on contexts that only need one paragraph. Respect the different purposes.
Common mistakes that undermine your professional image
Birth year trap. "Sarah Matthews was born in 1990" reads like Wikipedia. Start with what you do, not when you were born. There's a reason biographies start with action, not chronology.
Mixed pronouns. Pick one voice and maintain it. Third person for professional contexts: "she explores." First person for personal blogs or artist statements: "I explore." Don't shift between them. It creates confusion about who's speaking.
Listing everything. The impulse is understandable—if you exhibited in twenty galleries, list them all. But bios aren't CVs. Bios are curated selections. Your CV lists everything. Your bio curates your most important achievements. Twenty exhibitions overwhelms readers. Five strong ones convinces them you've had a real career.
Outdated information. A biography from 2022 is like a portfolio with no new work. Update every year, or immediately after a major achievement: a museum show, an important residency, significant publication. Stale information signals that you're not actively working.
Write them today
Give yourself time. Open a document. Spend thirty to forty-five minutes without perfectionism. Start with the one-sentence version—this is hardest because it demands ruthless choice. Write five or six different versions and pick the strongest. Expand to five sentences. Add key achievements. Write the expanded version, aiming for 200–250 words across one or two dense paragraphs. Read everything aloud. Does it sound like real human language or academic writing? Have someone who isn't an artist read it. If something sounds unclear or false, rewrite it. Your biography improves significantly with each draft. Don't overthink it. Done is better than perfect.
Having all three versions ready means you're never fumbling for words. A magazine asks for 200 words? You already have it. An open call requests "no more than 100 words"? Done. An institution doing serious research needs the expanded version? You're prepared. This readiness signals professionalism. It also means you never have to improvise under pressure, never have to send something that doesn't represent you accurately. You have the right tool for every context.
Three biographies isn't excess work. It's readiness for real contexts where your words might change decisions. Having them prepared—that's the professionalism that builds careers.
