The Art Of Packing And Shipping: How To Stay Sane While Your Painting Takes A Trip

The art of packing and shipping paintings: a task that’s equal parts science, art, and sheer nerve-wracking anxiety. You’ve spent hours (possibly days or weeks) creating your painting, pouring your heart and soul into every brushstroke. Now comes the final hurdle: getting your precious work from point A to point B without it being mangled, dented, or transformed into modern art by the postal service.

For many artists, the idea of shipping a painting can be scarier than the actual creation process. There are so many things that could go wrong, and the thought of your work getting damaged along the way is enough to make even the most stoic painter break out in a cold sweat. But fear not! With the right techniques and a healthy dose of humour, you can ensure that your painting arrives safely at its destination, even if you spend the entire time it’s in transit glued to your tracking app.

There are few things more satisfying than wrapping up a freshly sold painting, knowing it’s heading off to a new home, ready to be loved, admired, and hung in a spot with decent lighting and probably a fern. You’ve done it! You’ve sold your work! Cue the mental fanfare, champagne, and maybe a victory scroll through Instagram.

And then the panic sets in.

“Now I have to… ship it.”

Your joyful artistic glow is replaced by dread. Because shipping art, dear friend, is not a casual task. It is a full-contact sport. A logistical nightmare in cardboard form. A delicate operation that combines the precision of an engineer, the calm of a Buddhist monk, and the upper-body strength of a CrossFit champion.

Welcome to the thrilling and often traumatic world of shipping art, a journey where every corner is sacred, every ding is personal, and every courier drop-off feels like saying goodbye to a child with a note pinned to their jacket.

Let’s unpack it (with padding).

Stage 1: The Initial Excitement (Followed by Fear)

When someone buys your painting, you feel like the sun is shining on you. You’ve made it. This is the dream. Your work is going to live in someone’s home.

But then the logistics hit.

Is it going across town or the country? Will it be flown? Driven? Hauled across mountains by a lone postie with a sense of vengeance?

And most importantly, how do you get it there in one piece?

The painting becomes not just a precious object; it becomes a fragile egg made of sentiment and hope.

You open the studio cupboard where you store your packaging materials.

A roll of tape falls out and smacks you in the foot.

Welcome to reality.

Stage 2: The Great Cardboard Hunt

Here’s the dirty secret of art shipping: the box is harder to make than the art.

You thought you were just sending a canvas. You were wrong. You are now engaging in cardboard origami, a cursed craft that requires geometry, brute force, and a mild breakdown.

You dig through old packaging. You contemplate deconstructing an IKEA shelf. You wonder if cutting up a yoga mat counts as innovation or desperation.

Pro Tip:

If you don’t have a pre-made art shipping box, you will spend at least 45 minutes trying to invent one that nearly fits.

And no matter how perfectly you measure it, you will always discover that one corner is two centimetres too tall, which is enough to require a separate category of postage and a second mortgage.

The Gathering of Supplies

You’re on the hunt for every packing material you’ve ever vaguely owned or considered hoarding. You emerge with:

• Bubble wrap (some fresh, some pre-loved, some borrowed from an old Amazon box)

• Cardboard sheets of uncertain origin

• Packing tape (one roll new, one roll cursed)

• Scissors (blunt)

• A thank-you card (handwritten but smudged because… art)

• Foam corners

• A marker pen that will betray you halfway through writing the address

Stage 3: Wrapping Like a Protective Parent on a Sugar High

The first step in shipping your painting is packing it properly, which is just a fancy way of saying, “How can I make this thing indestructible?” Think of it as building a tiny fortress around your artwork, complete with layers of defence to ward off the evildoers of the shipping world: dents, scratches, moisture, and careless delivery drivers.

Start by wrapping your painting in a layer of plastic wrap or glassine paper to protect the surface. This is your painting’s first line of defence, keeping dust, moisture, and accidental fingerprints at bay. If you frame your painting with glass, taping an “X” across it with painter’s tape is wise. This will prevent it from shattering into a million pieces if it gets jostled around.

Your goal is to protect the painting without smothering it. But bubble wrap is a tricky mistress. Wrap it too loosely, and you might as well mail it naked. Wrap it too tightly and you’re left trying to stuff a puffy acrylic duvet into a cardboard slip that now feels criminally undersized.

Also: corners. You understand why professional framers charge what they do. Corners are a painting’s weakness. Enter foam corners, folded cardboard wedges, or, if desperate, socks.

You tape it all up like a well-loved parcel from your nan. You test its strength by lightly dropping it onto the floor (gently, you’re still traumatised from last time).

It’s holding. For now.

You step back and realise it now resembles a small refrigerator.

You worry you’ve gone too far. But then you hear the story of a friend whose painting was “folded” by a courier service, and decide to go one more layer. Just in case.

Place your bubble-wrapped painting into a sturdy, appropriately sized box. Emphasis on sturdy and appropriately sized here - you don’t want the painting rattling around inside, nor do you want the box to be so tight that you need a crowbar to extract your work once it arrives. Fill any empty spaces with packing peanuts, foam, or crumpled paper to keep everything snug and secure. Seal the box with heavy-duty packing tape.

Hot Tip:

Write “FRAGILE” on every visible surface. Then, for extra flair, add “DO NOT BEND,” “DO NOT DROP,” and possibly “THIS BOX CONTAINS MY HOPES AND DREAMS, PLEASE BE NICE.”

Your studio now looks like a recycling plant got into a bar fight.

This is normal.

Stage 4: The Label of Doom

You sit at your desk, staring at the label form like it’s a crossword puzzle designed to destroy your sanity.

What’s the correct postcode? Do you need a customs form? What’s the value of the artwork? Do you put what they paid, or what it’s worth to your soul? Can you insure emotions?

You print the label. It’s crooked. You print it again. It’s fine. You stick your label on with trembling hands, then double-tape it, just in case it tries to peel off mid-transit and vanish into the void of missing parcels and lost dreams.

This is the point where you will forget your own postcode.

Pro Tip: Always write your return address on the back. Unless you’re planning to start a mystery art subscription service for your local post office.

Stage 5: Farewell, Sweet Painting

Now comes the part where you entrust your meticulously packed painting to a shipping service. Whether it’s FedEx, Pack & Send, DHL, or your local postal service, this is where things can feel dicey. You’re handing over your beloved artwork to a stranger, hoping they’ll treat it with the care and respect it deserves. The reality, of course, is that your package might be tossed around, stacked under heavier boxes, or subjected to less-than-gentle handling.

You must choose your delivery method:

• Australia Post: Efficient for smaller works. Can you fit your painting into “Parcel Size B” without compromising the laws of physics? Let’s find out!

• Pack & Send: Great for large works. Slightly terrifying quotes. You wonder if sending your painting via private jet would be cheaper.

• Courier service: Reliable, but often involves handing your precious work to a man named Kevin who throws it into a van with the energy of a rugby tackle.

• Self-delivery: The classic. One hand on the steering wheel, one hand keeping the canvas from flopping. Traffic jams. Tight corners. Adrenaline. Tears.

To minimise your anxiety, choose a shipping service that offers tracking and insurance. Tracking is your lifeline - a way to monitor your painting’s progress and ensure it hasn’t gone AWOL somewhere between departure and arrival. Insurance is your safety net. Should the unthinkable happen and your painting gets damaged or lost, at least you’ll be compensated for your loss (even if it won’t heal the emotional trauma).

Now comes the hardest part: letting go. You hand it over at the post office or courier depot. You watch them toss it gently (violently) onto a trolley. You die a little inside.

You smile and say, “Thanks,” but what you mean is:

“Please take care of this thing I made with my heart and also $120 worth of art supplies.”

When you hand your parcel over, try to suppress the urge to give the postal worker a 10-minute lecture on the importance of careful handling. (Pro Tip: A smile and a polite “Please take good care of this” will suffice.) Once your package is out of your hands, all you can do is hope for the best, and maybe light a candle or two for good measure.

As you walk away, you check the tracking number. You will now check it every hour for the next five days, like an anxious pigeon watching the weather.

Stage 6: The Waiting Game (or: Artist as Tracking Addict)

You know the tracking number by heart. You’ve memorised the Australia Post delivery schedule. You’ve created a story in your head about the driver. You name him Greg.

Greg seems like a good guy. Greg knows how to stack things gently. Greg doesn’t put fragile parcels under heavy ones.

You send a message to your buyer:

“Your painting is on the way!”

(What you mean is: “Please let me know the moment it arrives and reassure me it’s not damaged and that you still love it and that I’m a valid human.”)

Every ping on your phone might be a delivery notification. Every non-ping is a personal insult.

This is where a sense of humour is essential. After all, what can you do if your package takes an unexpected detour through Darwin? (Answer: not much.) It’s important to keep things in perspective. Yes, your painting is important, but stressing over every little detail won’t make it arrive any faster. Take a deep breath, remind yourself that the vast majority of packages arrive safely, and distract yourself with other tasks.

Stage 7: The Arrival (or, The Moment of Truth)

One glorious day, the buyer messages you with a photo. The painting arrived safely. It’s on their wall. It looks stunning.

“It’s here! It’s beautiful! I love it so much!”

You collapse.

They say something lovely like, “It makes me feel peaceful,” or “I love the texture.”

Your shoulders drop three inches. You exhale. You’re so relieved you could cry.

You realise it was worth it. The box, the tape, the cost, the fear - it was all worth it.

Because your art now lives in the world. Someone chose it. Someone cherishes it.

And now, naturally, you celebrate by… painting another one and starting the whole wild process again.

When Things Go Wrong

But what if the message you receive isn’t so reassuring? What if, instead, you’re greeted with, “There’s a small dent in the corner,” or worse, “It’s damaged”? Take a deep breath. Remember, you did everything you could to protect your painting. If you purchased insurance, now’s the time to file a claim. Most importantly, don’t beat yourself up; shipping art is a bit of a gamble, but it usually pays off. Good communication is key in this situation, and you will need to honour your refund policy if a resolution is not possible.

Bonus Round: Common Shipping Mistakes (So You Can Avoid Them)

• Under-packing. Never trust the words “handled with care.” Overprotect like your art is a newborn wrapped in diamonds.

• Untracked shipping. It’s a false economy. Peace of mind is worth every cent.

• Using the wrong tape. Cheap tape peels. Good tape holds. The choice is yours.

• Ignoring insurance. If it’s irreplaceable, insure it. That’s the rule.

• Skipping a thank-you note. A little personal touch goes a long way. Include it. People remember it.

You’re Doing Better Than You Think

Shipping art isn’t easy. It’s a cocktail of logistics, emotion, and sharp cardboard edges. But it’s also a beautiful, ridiculous act of devotion to your work, your collector, and that art deserves to travel.

So the next time you find yourself knee-deep in packing peanuts, muttering about couriers and double-walled boxes, remember:

Your art is travelling. To homes. To hearts. To lives you’ll never know, but have touched.

And that, my friend, is worth every box, every bubble, every slightly too-small roll of tape.

Now go and find more cardboard.

You’ve got places to send beauty.

From The (Honest) Artist's Life: Confessions of a Practising Artist - Out Now.