Working with a Digital Artist — What Makes a Good Brief

Anyone who has ever worked with a creative professional — a designer, an architect, a photographer — knows the simple truth: the quality of the result is decided before the work begins, at the moment you define what you're actually asking for. With artists this is doubly true. A good brief is neither a legal document nor a list of demands; it's a precise invitation into your world, giving the artist ground to stand on and freedom to take off from.

The common worry among clients is “I don't know how to talk art.” The good news: you don't need to. An excellent brief is written in plain human language — what the space is, what the feeling is, what you love and what you don't. In this guide we break a good brief into five components, with examples you can copy.

Component 1: The Space — the Dry Facts

Start with the physics: which room, which wall, what dimensions, and what surrounds it. One good photo of the wall is worth ten sentences — it shows the artist the lighting, the furniture, and the existing colors without you having to describe them. When in doubt, shoot wide: better the artist sees more context than less.

Component 2: The Feeling — in Your Own Words

This is the heart of the brief. Instead of art terminology, describe what you want to feel when you enter the room: “quiet after a packed day,” “morning energy,” “the feeling of a childhood home by the sea.” One emotional sentence like that gives an artist deeper direction than any stylistic definition. Artists translate emotion into form — that's their expertise. Give them an emotion to work with.

Component 3: Visual Anchors

• Two or three examples of works or images you love — from other fields too (photography, nature, architecture).
• What exactly you love in each example: the color? The composition? The quiet? Say it in a sentence.
• No less important — one example of what doesn't suit you, with a short reason.
• If there are colors that are required or off-limits (because of existing textiles, for instance) — state them explicitly.

Component 4: The Boundaries

Budget, approximate dimensions, format (horizontal, vertical, square), and timeline. At walll.art these are defined as part of opening the call: you set the budget upfront and choose a duration of 7, 14, or 21 days for receiving proposals. Clearly defined boundaries don't limit creativity — they free it, because the artist knows exactly which field they're playing on.

Component 5: What Not to Write

The common mistake in briefs is trying to “paint with words” — dictating to the artist exactly what will appear and where. A brief like that produces technical execution, not art. If you knew exactly what the piece should look like, you wouldn't need an artist. Good direction defines the destination and leaves the road open: “we want a sense of the sea without painting the sea” is a wonderful instruction; “a wave on the left and a seagull above” is a recipe for disappointment.

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A good brief tells the artist where to arrive, not which road to take.

What Happens After the Brief Goes Out

From the moment the open call is published, artists — including leading digital creators and AI artists — read the brief and submit proposals created especially for it. Every proposal is visualized on your wall photo at true scale. You review the proposals at your own pace, and at the end of the period choose the work that lands. Payment is held securely until the artwork is delivered, so both sides are protected throughout.

And if you receive proposals that don't speak to you? That's perfectly fine, and part of the process. The multiplicity of proposals is precisely the advantage: instead of betting on one artist and hoping, you see different interpretations of the same brief and choose the one that's right for your home.