“Don’t judge a book by its cover” couldn’t be more true when it comes to open calls. On paper, they seem simple: submit your work, wait, maybe get picked. But if you’ve tried it, you already know it’s never that easy. Each call has little hidden rules, unspoken expectations, and tiny hints that can make the difference between getting noticed and getting lost in the pile.
Here’s the thing, reading between the lines is what separates the submissions that feel random from the ones that actually hit the mark. You have to tune into the curator’s vibe, the type of work they usually select, and those subtle cues that aren’t spelled out anywhere. Missing them doesn’t mean you failed, it just means your work didn’t speak the language they were listening for.
A lot of artists dive in blindly, follow every checklist, and still wonder why nothing lands. They hit all the technical boxes but miss the subtext, the themes, the energy, the priorities hidden in the wording. Those little details tell you exactly what matters, and ignoring them is like walking into a conversation without listening.
Understanding these cues can completely change how your submission lands. It’s not guessing, it’s being smart about positioning your work. When your piece shows that you “get it,” you immediately stand out. That small bit of awareness is often the difference between being ignored and being chosen.
Once you start noticing patterns, your whole approach shifts. You submit smarter, you learn faster, and you start predicting what will resonate in future calls. You become sharper, not just at reading calls, but at reading the art world itself.
So let’s break it down. What should you actually be watching for? How do you make sure your submissions do more than just tick boxes and really connect? Stick with me, we’re going to go through it step by step so your work finally speaks the language curators are paying attention to.

Most artists treat open calls like a checklist: read, tick boxes, submit, hope for the best. But that’s the fast track to generic submissions that never get noticed. Open calls are layered, they’re written by people with taste, priorities, and subtle preferences that you won’t see at first glance. The first step to standing out is to feel the language, not just scan it.
Take the phrasing “work that engages the audience.” That’s not a vague suggestion. It signals that the organizers are looking for pieces that spark curiosity or interaction. So instead of just including a passive, static painting, you might think about ways your work could invite participation or linger in someone’s mind. Feeling the call means noticing energy in words like this.
Another example: if the call says “emerging artists encouraged,” notice that the term “emerging” isn’t just about career stage. It can imply flexibility, experimentation, or raw ideas rather than polished perfection. Your submission should reflect that spirit. Matching the emotional tone of the call, playful, bold, introspective, can make a subtle but huge difference.
Even the order of sentences matters. Calls often lead with what’s most important: the first line might highlight community focus, the second logistics, the third aesthetic style. If you focus on the last point without acknowledging the first, you may unintentionally signal misalignment. Feeling the structure can guide how you craft your cover letter, artist statement, or portfolio notes.
Let’s also talk about imagery. Some calls include visuals, past exhibitions, examples of selected work, or mood boards. These are direct extensions of the text. Studying them gives insight into scale, material, or conceptual approaches that resonate. It’s almost like getting a cheat sheet on preferences if you pay attention.
Finally, the “feeling” approach filters opportunities. If the call’s tone makes your stomach drop, or its focus doesn’t align with your practice, that’s a clue. Not every opportunity is meant for every artist, and recognizing that early saves emotional energy and sharpens focus on the ones where you truly belong.
Not all instructions in an open call carry equal weight, even if they appear on the same page. Some points are central, others are formalities. Your job is to decode which parts matter most and focus your energy there.
Look at the first sentence. Often it’s the clearest signal of priority. For example: “We are seeking site-specific, experimental installations that engage diverse audiences.” Here, “site-specific” is the top priority, “experimental” reinforces style, and “engage diverse audiences” defines intent. Tailor your submission to hit the first point clearly, then layer in the others.
Repetition is another guide. If a call mentions “community engagement” three times in different contexts but mentions “scale flexibility” only once, the emphasis is clear. Your project proposal should reflect the repeated priority upfront. Ignoring it is like answering a question they didn’t even ask.
Formatting cues matter too. Bold text, bullet points, and headings often indicate importance. If a call separates “preferred media” in a dedicated box, don’t skim over it. Curators intentionally structure calls to reward careful reading. Attention to these cues demonstrates both professionalism and alignment with their priorities.
Check for subtle language hints. Words like “emerging,” “experimental,” or “interdisciplinary” often point to deeper preferences. Consider past calls or exhibitions, they can reveal which repeated phrases indicate true emphasis versus standard boilerplate. For instance, a gallery that regularly curates immersive experiences will likely prioritize interaction, even if the call doesn’t overtly demand it.
By recognizing this hierarchy, you can focus your energy where it counts. Instead of sweating minor details, you spotlight the elements that define the submission’s success. Your chances of standing out improve dramatically simply by knowing where to direct your attention.
Open calls are peppered with buzzwords: “innovation,” “conceptually driven,” “audience engagement.” On the surface, they sound generic, but they carry weight if you decode them correctly. Emotional literacy helps you spot the difference between fluff and real expectations.
Take “community-focused.” Some artists hear this and think, “Okay, mention community involvement in my statement,” and leave it at that. But the call might actually want examples: previous collaborative projects, public workshops, or interactive components that clearly show your ability to engage people. That’s reading the buzzword in context.
Similarly, “emerging artist” doesn’t just define career stage. It hints at experimentation, risk-taking, or openness to new ideas. A polished but conventional piece might technically fit, but it won’t resonate. Showing flexibility and conceptual curiosity can make your submission feel alive and relevant.
Even words like “immersive” carry emotional expectations. It’s not just about scale, it’s about experience. How does your work invite viewers into a world, story, or environment? Including a small example in your statement or portfolio of a previous immersive project signals you understand the nuance.
Another trick: match the tone emotionally. If a call repeats words like “playful,” “audience-driven,” or “experiential,” submissions that feel rigid or overly formal might not connect. Buzzwords often signal the emotional energy they want your work to carry.
Over time, paying attention to these cues trains your intuition. You begin to recognize subtle patterns across calls, which makes it easier to select opportunities and submit work that feels naturally aligned rather than forced. This skill is just as much emotional as analytical.
Every open call has invisible filters, criteria that aren’t explicitly stated but influence selection. These could be aesthetic preferences, logistical limits, or the curator’s personal taste. Recognizing them is part detective work, part emotional reading.
Look for hints in past exhibitions or artists featured by the organization. If the gallery often shows large-scale installations, submitting small, intimate paintings might signal a mismatch. If a call emphasizes “inclusive,” they might be looking for diverse perspectives or participatory approaches, not just aesthetically pleasing work.
Logistics also create filters. Terms like “site-adaptable” or “durable materials” aren’t minor details, they indicate practical constraints that will shape the selection. Ignoring them wastes effort. For example, proposing a delicate paper sculpture for a juried outdoor show might seem innovative, but practically it’s not feasible.
Even subtle phrasing can hint at aesthetic preferences. If a call repeatedly mentions “conceptual rigor” or “critical engagement,” the curators likely favor work that challenges ideas rather than only providing visual appeal. That’s a filter you can navigate by adjusting your proposal or statement.
Once you identify these invisible filters, your submissions can become much sharper. You highlight qualities that matter most, rather than overloading the proposal with irrelevant strengths. This strategic approach both saves time and boosts impact.
Finally, spotting invisible filters reduces frustration. Instead of wondering why you didn’t get selected, you can assess whether your work truly aligns with the opportunity. Emotional insight and careful observation become tools to make smarter decisions.

Most artists treat open calls like monologues: you read, submit, then wait. The real magic happens when you engage the call like a conversation, asking questions, interpreting cues, and letting it guide your strategy.
Start with questions: What is the curator really emphasizing? Are there assumptions in the wording? What might they be hoping to see that isn’t spelled out? These questions help you translate the call’s language into actionable submission choices.
Next, mirror the language subtly. If the call emphasizes “immersive experience,” show your audience how your work creates that effect. This isn’t copying, it’s signaling that you understand the underlying expectation. A simple example could be including a brief note on how your past work invited viewer interaction.
Cross-referencing with past projects or organizational missions adds depth. Does your interpretation align with their typical focus? This research signals you’re informed and genuinely interested, not just checking boxes. For instance, if the gallery favors collaborative installations, highlight previous group work or participatory projects.
Don’t forget the human side. Calls are written by people with taste, experience, and personal preferences. Reading between the lines helps you anticipate what will resonate on an emotional level. A curator’s energy often comes through in word choice and structure, and aligning with that energy makes your work feel like it belongs.
Finally, engaging the call actively changes your mindset. You’re no longer submitting blindly, you’re responding thoughtfully, interpreting cues, and positioning your work intelligently. That’s how you move from a generic applicant to someone whose submission actually resonates and stands out.
Here’s something most artists miss: open calls often follow patterns. Once you notice them, your submissions become sharper, faster, and far more strategic. Every organization, gallery, or residency has habits, certain phrasing, repeated values, preferred themes, that show up again and again. Recognizing these patterns is like having a cheat code.
For instance, if multiple calls from the same gallery highlight “community engagement,” it’s not optional. It’s part of their DNA. Ignoring it is like trying to join a club without learning their traditions, you’ll show up, but you won’t fit in. Spotting these patterns also helps you tailor your proposal without rewriting your entire portfolio each time.
Another example: you might notice that calls emphasizing “experimental” work tend to favor unconventional materials or interactive formats. That gives you a framework for pitching your projects. You can highlight relevant past projects, explain your process, and even hint at your willingness to take risks, all without overselling.
Patterns also emerge in language. Phrases like “immersive,” “audience-centered,” or “conceptually driven” often indicate emotional priorities. When you catch them, you can subtly weave similar language into your artist statement, showing curators you’re aligned without being repetitive.
Over time, spotting patterns reduces guesswork and anxiety. You don’t submit blindly anymore; you submit intelligently. You start noticing not just the explicit instructions, but the unspoken rules that influence decisions.
The more you practice this, the more intuitive it becomes. Soon, reading a new open call feels less like decoding a puzzle and more like having a conversation, you understand what’s valued before you even start writing.
It’s easy to think “I’ll just submit what I have and see what happens.” That’s exactly how most submissions get lost in the pile. Strategic positioning is about connecting your work to the priorities hinted at in the call.
Let’s say a call emphasizes “social impact.” Don’t just attach a few pieces and a CV, highlight how your work contributes to dialogue, participation, or engagement. Maybe you’ve led workshops, collaborated with communities, or addressed real-world issues in your projects. Showing this positions you as the solution, not just an applicant.
Another tip: consider how your portfolio reads as a narrative. Curators often skim, so your work should tell a story that aligns with the call. If a call prioritizes conceptual rigor, arrange your portfolio to emphasize projects with strong ideas first. If visual impact matters, showcase your most striking work upfront.
Language is part of positioning too. Your artist statement can echo the call’s energy and phrasing. If the call mentions “playful experimentation,” sprinkle words and examples that show you understand and embrace that spirit. It’s subtle, but it works.
Even logistics factor in. If the call favors site-specific work, describe adaptability or prior installations. If scale or material limitations exist, clarify how your work fits. These details show you’ve read carefully and thought ahead.
Strategically positioning your work doesn’t mean changing your art, it means framing it in a way that speaks directly to what the organizers value. That little adjustment can transform your submission from “just another entry” to “exactly what we’re looking for.”
Deadlines and requirements aren’t just administrative, they’re loaded with clues. Look closely at what they emphasize, repeat, or leave vague. Missing subtle hints here can silently disqualify your submission.
For example, if a call stresses high-resolution images, multiple views, or detailed process notes, it signals the curator values depth, context, and presentation. Ignoring these details isn’t laziness, it’s missing an opportunity to show you understand what matters.
Sometimes, the wording even suggests their evaluation priorities. If a deadline is firm and late submissions are penalized, it shows they respect timeliness and organization. Your ability to meet requirements can speak as loudly as the work itself.
Other clues can hide in seemingly minor phrasing. Terms like “optional supporting materials” may hint at things they love to see but aren’t strictly required. Including thoughtful examples here can subtly differentiate your submission.
Let’s say a call asks for a statement of no more than 200 words. That’s not arbitrary, they’re testing precision, clarity, and focus. Submissions that ramble risk being skimmed and overlooked. Meeting these hidden expectations signals professionalism.
Finally, treat requirements as part of the conversation. Each line is a nudge about what curators value. Follow them carefully, and your submission will already feel aligned even before the jury sees your art.

Some calls come with surprises if you know how to spot them. These hidden opportunities can give your submission extra punch, think special prizes, featured projects, or cash awards. Paying attention is key.
For example, the Arts to Hearts Project is running an open call called the Art Book: Food Edition, which offers a $1,000 cash prize. At first glance, it looks like any thematic call, but reading carefully reveals they value originality, playful exploration, and thoughtfulness in presentation. This is your chance not just to submit, but to gain exposure, recognition, and a tangible reward.
What does that mean for you? You could structure your proposal to highlight your most conceptually adventurous work, include clear imagery, and frame it so that it communicates the story of your process. Doing this positions you as the submission that speaks directly to their priorities, and puts you in contention for the prize.
Opportunities like this are everywhere if you’re paying attention. Sometimes a call includes mentions of “publication potential,” “residency invitation,” or “special showcase.” These are clues that your submission could gain much more than selection, it could lead to career momentum.
A small investment of emotional attention, reading, noticing cues, and tailoring your submission, can unlock benefits far beyond just being included. The $1,000 prize is immediate, but the exposure and experience can outlast it.
The lesson? Don’t skim. Look closely, read between the lines, and you’ll spot opportunities that make submitting worth your time, effort, and creativity.
Open calls don’t exist in a vacuum. Understanding the organization, past exhibitions, and the broader cultural context can give you a leg up that generic submissions miss.
Take a gallery that regularly features immersive, conceptual installations. Even if the current call doesn’t explicitly demand it, knowing their past projects suggests they favor ambitious, thought-provoking work. Submitting a safe, conventional piece could make your entry fade into the background.
Another example: some residencies value engagement with local communities or environmental impact. Looking at past winners or press releases gives clues about what makes a proposal stand out. This contextual research is invisible to most applicants but immediately noticeable to curators.
Context also helps you frame your artist statement. By referencing the gallery’s ethos, mission, or recent exhibitions, your submission shows awareness and alignment. You’re not just sending art into the void, you’re entering a conversation they’re already having.
Even timing can be part of context. If a call coincides with a thematic anniversary or public event, you might angle your work to resonate with that narrative. Context gives you leverage to make your submission feel thoughtful and intentional rather than generic.
Finally, thinking contextually reduces wasted effort. You avoid submitting to calls where alignment is low and focus on the ones where your work naturally fits. It’s strategy disguised as research, and it pays off every single time.
By now, you can see the difference between a generic submission and one that really communicates: the latter feels like a dialogue. You’re responding, adapting, and highlighting aspects of your work that matter most to the curator.
Start with your language. Echo key phrases from the call naturally. If the call emphasizes “immersive storytelling,” don’t just state your work tells a story, show how it does so through process photos, descriptive notes, or even small sketches.
Next, connect emotionally. Curators respond to sincerity, curiosity, and thoughtfulness. A cover letter that explains why your work fits this particular call, without overexplaining, builds a subtle rapport before they even see the pieces.
Another part is adaptability. You’re not changing your art; you’re framing it. A collage artist submitting to a call that prioritizes “interactivity” might emphasize participatory elements in a previous series or suggest ways their work could engage viewers. That’s conversation in action.
Even visual choices matter. How you arrange images in a portfolio or document communicates understanding and attention. Subtle nods to the call’s language or aesthetics show you’ve read carefully and internalized the priorities.
Finally, treat every submission as a learning conversation. Whether you’re selected or not, each call teaches you about the language, priorities, and invisible expectations of curators. Over time, this skill transforms how you approach every opportunity and sharpens your intuitive sense of alignment.
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