Pay to Play: The Hidden Cost of Artist Submissions & The Ethics Behind It

“One fee might feel harmless, but stack them together and suddenly you’ve spent the equivalent of a weekly food shop on chances. It really is a lottery.“

When does an “opportunity” start to look more like a business model?

A few weeks ago, I submitted my work to a magazine that charged an entry fee just to be considered. No promise of being featured, just the chance to be looked at. The minimum fee was 35 US dollars. I paid it, hit send, and tried not to overthink it.

A couple of weeks later, an email arrived: “Thank you for submitting. We had over 400 applications and unfortunately, your work wasn’t selected.”

It stung, as rejections usually do, but what really made me pause was that number. Over 400 artists, each paying at least 35 dollars. That’s roughly $14,000 gathered just from entries. And that’s the absolute minimum. Many people pay more to submit extra pieces. Suddenly it felt less like a creative opportunity and more like a very tidy income stream.

When opportunity turns into income

There’s a familiar explanation for this. Magazines and galleries say the fees help cover printing, admin time, promotion, and so on. And sometimes that’s genuinely true. Independent projects need support and these costs don’t vanish into thin air.

But when hundreds of people pay to be considered and only a handful are chosen, it starts to feel a bit off. Especially when those “entry fees” keep the publication running while artists end up with little more than a thank you email and lighter wallets.

I’ve entered several calls over the past year, for both magazines and exhibitions, and it all adds up. One fee might feel harmless, but stack them together and suddenly you’ve spent the equivalent of a weekly food shop on chances. It really is a lottery. Hundreds of artists applying each time and only a few ever chosen. For some of us, that’s a risk that simply isn’t affordable no matter how exciting the opportunity sounds.

The illusion of prestige

Part of what draws us in is the language. Everything sounds so shiny. Exclusive, curated, international exposure. You picture your work printed on glossy pages or hanging in a sleek gallery and think, maybe this is the one. But often, those same publications have tiny readerships and limited reach. It’s not always the glamorous career step it appears to be. Sometimes, artists are paying for a sense of prestige that may not even exist outside the marketing.

I say that as someone who’s actually been on the inside of this. Over time, I’ve had my work printed in a couple of magazines. It was a privilege, and it’s undeniably exciting to see your art on a real printed page. But honestly, I didn’t feel like I gained any real exposure or new audience from it. It looked nice, sure, but it didn’t translate into more opportunities or sales. The “visibility” was more symbolic than practical.

No feedback, no transparency

Another thing that feels wrong is the silence. You pay, you submit, and then you hear nothing beyond the outcome. No feedback, no insight, no explanation of where that money goes. If you’re going to take money from hundreds of artists, surely a little transparency is fair. Even a short note saying why someone’s work didn’t make it through would make the whole process feel more human.

The emotional side no one mentions

There’s also the quiet exhaustion that builds up when you keep paying to be told no. It can chip away at your confidence, especially when you’re already doing the emotional labour of putting your work out there. Over time, it becomes hard to separate creative worth from acceptance emails that never seem to arrive. Paying for the chance of validation is a slippery slope, and many of us end up sliding straight down it.

Who gets left out

This whole system naturally favours those who can afford to keep playing. Artists with savings or extra income can apply again and again, while others are priced out before they even begin. It’s not about talent or dedication. It’s about who can keep gambling on visibility. And that doesn’t feel like the creative community most of us thought we were part of.

A fairer way forward

Charging fees isn’t automatically a bad thing, but it could be done in a way that feels more ethical. Imagine if artists could submit for free, and only pay a confirmation fee if they were actually chosen to be featured or exhibited. That money could go towards genuine costs like printing, layout, or renting space.

It would still ensure the magazine or gallery receives a fair payment for using or printing the artist’s work, but it would also stop people from paying again and again just to take part in a lucky draw. Artists would pay for an actual result rather than the chance of one. Everyone wins, and no one feels exploited.

And honestly, I think most artists wouldn’t mind paying a slightly higher fee if they knew for certain their work would be included. The frustration doesn’t come from paying, it comes from paying and never being seen. A guaranteed feature feels like an investment. Paying for a chance feels like a gamble.

Other ways it can work

There are already magazines and galleries that manage to run without charging entry fees at all. Some use sponsorship or grants. Others offer optional paid submissions alongside free entry to make things more inclusive. These models show it’s possible to keep creative projects alive without relying on the pockets of hopeful artists.

And with the internet being what it is, it’s easier than ever for artists to share their work directly. Between Instagram, portfolio sites, and online magazines, visibility no longer has to depend on gatekeepers. You can reach an audience without paying to sit in a queue.

A more critical look ahead

After the last few months, I’ve become far more selective about where I send my work. Especially when the entry fee starts creeping up into the “that could have been my grocery shop” range. I’ve realised I’ve submitted to some of the same magazines several times now, paying each time, and been rejected every single round. Those are the ones I won’t be applying to again. Not out of bitterness, but out of principle.

If a magazine is regularly collecting thousands from artists and giving very little back in transparency or opportunity, it’s fair to question whether they’re supporting art or simply monetising ambition.

Before applying again, it’s worth asking yourself: Where is this money actually going? Who does it benefit? And maybe most importantly, could I use this money in a way that benefits my own creative growth instead?

Sometimes the better investment isn’t in submission fees at all, but in yourself — your materials, your portfolio, your next idea. That’s the kind of opportunity that doesn’t send a polite rejection email.