Some emerging artists see John Currin paintings go for a million and figure, "Hey, I'm just as good -- I should get at least $20,000 for mine," and then they get depressed when nothing sells at their debut show, except the one small painting in the back room that Uncle John mercifully bought for $2,500.

Basquiat and Warhol both sold their work at extremely low prices at the early stages of their careers. One of the artists in "Greater New York," who was featured in New York Magazine as one of the ten artists most likely to succeed, sold a painting a few years ago to a friend of a friend of mine for $100.

I, Mark Kostabi, am a famous artist. I make millions. But I frequently see debut shows of unknown artists with prices that are double of mine. With a lot of effort they might even sell some work. But what they're really doing is barely getting by and helping me sell 1,000 paintings a year effortlessly, because they make my paintings look like such a bargain. Thank you to all the egotistical art students!

Sometimes they'll say, "I like most of these except these three, but I'll take them all if you give me a special price." Or you may hear,"Look at this auction catalogue -- your paintings are being sold at Luigi's Auction House for one fourth of the retail prices! How can you expect me to compete with these low public prices? You have to give me a much bigger discount and promise not to sell to Edoardo anymore because he's the one dumping your paintings to Luigi's auction. Obviously you've been giving Edoardo a better discount than me and I refuse to be insulted. I'm a serious dealer with a serious gallery and I can't afford to compete with these low level people. I don't sell carpets."

This kind of abusive and manipulative talk is usually accompanied by the explicit sight of five separate thick stacks of cash, each with a double rubber band around it, or ten slightly smaller stacks of newly minted cash fresh from the bank, with the tight little paper strap holding the crisp bills snug. So it all gets complicated.

The trick is to not lose your cool. Don't get into an argument. The dealer is usually bluffing. Just smile and say that you appreciate the information and advice but you simply can't adjust your price any further.

Another strategy is to tell the dealer before the appointment that you don't want to discuss the price in person -- that everything should be clear on the phone before he comes to the studio, and that the appointment should just be a selection process, and be reserved only for pleasant art talk.

Occasionally, a dealer will get mad and actually walk out without buying anything. This can feel uncomfortable, but look at it this way: rejection is God's protection. For every ten hustlers there's one decent person out there, and it's worth it to search for the saints.

The artist Saltz was referring to is named Tom Sanford. Gagosian didn't actually buy the batch of paintings, at least not to Sanford's knowledge, who says that since his production is not vast, he can keep track of where his paintings end up. But Sanford did sign with Koenig and will have a one person show there in December. Sanford is a student at Hunter College, where I encountered the influential collector Norman Dubrow at a recent open studios event, praising Sanford, with typical Dubrow exuberance, as the most promising student.

Perhaps Jules de Balincourt, another current student at Hunter who's already had two sold out shows at Zach Feuer Gallery, was already old news. Kravets/Wehby Gallery shows four Hunter students: Sidney Chastain-Chapman, Andy Cross, Ezra Johnson and Aya Uekawa. Lyons Weir shows one: Justin Allen. That's a total of seven art students from just one art school showing at legitimate New York galleries, a list that I was able to compile simply from casual conversations. My guess is that it's just the tip of the iceberg of the new movement we could call art studentism. (I want credit for coining the term here.)

When I told the great painter Enzo Cucchi about this historically unprecedented phenomenon, he laughed and said soon dealers will be showing artists that are still in the womb. I met Tom Sanford at the Tim Lokiec (pronounced "lock-itch") opening at Zach Feuer recently and he said that Norman Dubrow was instrumental in getting him into the Leo Koenig Gallery. Sanford also said that he likes my Artnet Magazine column and that he's been lobbying to have me speak at Hunter.

These are all the right things to say to win me over, but I would have praised his interesting paintings anyway. They marry an Old Master painterly esthetic to current pop cultural imagery, with earnest well-wrought brushwork. I especially like his DEFosition and The Entombment. With all due respect to Jerry Saltz, I'd say the work was about kitsch, rather than being itself kitschy. I kind of consider Tom Sanford an art star already, so it was really surreal that after we said goodbye, I heard him say to another person at the opening, Sapna Shah, an art consultant who happens to also be a Hunter art history student, "See you in class."

My advice to you, Feeling Older and Irrelevant, is to temporarily stop trying to get people to visit your studio. You're the one who should be visiting studios. Show some interest in the current scene. It's no coincidence that Chuck Close, an artist of your generation, is one of the top-selling artists at auction and he hangs out with and makes portraits of people like Inka Essenhigh and Cecily Brown. He stays in touch and obviously expresses a great interest in current young art. Maybe Chuck Close will paint Tom Sanford next, while you organize a brunch in your comfy 6,000-square-foot SoHo loft and hope that Lawrence Weiner shows up. I say get back in the trench.

He also advised you to indicate in writing on the back of the print that the new work is an authorized replacement print by the artist. Obviously this will reduce the value a bit. But Toby also said that you have every right to say the print is irreplaceable, and that you can charge any amount you want for the replacement print.

In the end, for your situation, Toby felt that if you were to charge a modest price to cover the cost of reprinting, framing, shipping and your time, it would be a very reasonable solution. He also said there is a well-established practice in the world of color photography for artists to replace an original print that has faded after 10 or 15 years, for only the expense of printing, because the fading of color photography is a result of the inherent vice of the medium, and not the fault of either the artist or the collector.

Your question raises issues about the ambiguities and artificialities of the print and multiples market. Some artists think of their artworks almost as their children, to the point where it breaks their heart to part with the work. If your adopted daughter was in a serious car accident, would you be content to send back part of her to the adoption agency's clone lab to get her remanufactured with the same edition number?

When Charles Saatchi's maid unplugged the refrigerator, causing Marc Quinn's famous sculpture -- the self-portrait head made of his own frozen blood -- to melt away, the artist refused to make a replacement blood head, saying the artwork was gone forever. On the other hand, one could say that a replacement print is just another degree of restoration, not unlike all the Old Master paintings that we love even though we are only looking at only a fragment of the original work.

I just used common sense during the relatively few times that I met my collectors. I tried to be nice and appreciative. In retrospect I can see how it would have been even better to think the way you're thinking now -- to consider every possible angle to help sell the work, which I now do. Even though I became extra famous (or maybe notorious) for jokingly insulting my collectors in the media, I am now an expert (relative to most artists) in dealing with collectors. I feel I can sell my work to anyone, if not in five minutes, then six. Even though my attitude might seem manipulative, the most important thing is to be 100 percent sincere. I really believe in my work and in no way think I'm taking advantage of anyone. I feel generous when selling my art.

The important thing is to have tremendous confidence while being simultaneously pleasant and flexible. Collectors are usually thrilled to have a five-minute conversation with an artist they admire. One of my standard, sincere lines is "What's your favorite painting in the show?" followed up by "Why?" This usually leads to interesting, mutually beneficial conversation. Every picture has a story, and if you can tell a short, memorable one about a painting, it usually helps sell the work.

I often ask, "Where are you from?" and after they've agreed to buy a painting I'll usually ask, "Where will this painting be hung?" and "What other artists do you collect?" I often ask the collector(s) (they often come as a couple) if they'd like me to write a dedication to them on the back of the painting. Usually they're thrilled and say yes and I'll unpocket my China marker and write on the back of the canvas, "For Mario and Teresa, Mark Kostabi," and add the date and name of city where the show is. Often someone has a camera nearby and I always agree to pose with the clients for a photo, either holding or standing near their acquisition.

The most important thing is simply to be nice and appreciative and at the same time give them the hint that you're a winner so they believe they've made a good investment. It's simple common sense but you wouldn't believe the amount of artists that botch everything and ruin sales by saying all the wrong things to potential clients. The worst thing you can do is to have an arrogant, know-it-all attitude or say things with the demeanor of "I don't need to explain my work -- it speaks for itself." Best is to share your enthusiasm with the collector's enthusiasm for the work, and discover things together.

Dear Darren,
I have given so much advice that I thought, in order to stay fresh, that I should wait a while to accumulate new experiences. Plus, I've been busy with my TV show, Inside Kostabi: Name That Painting, a game show where art critics compete to title my paintings for cash awards. You can see it every Wednesday night at 9:30 in Manhattan on Time Warner Cable, Channel 34 or on RCN, Channel 107, or globally on the Internet at mnn.org, Channel 34, on Wednesday nights at 9:30, New York time.

I will write the column more frequently now. Thanks to everyone who has communicated their appreciation of it over the last year. Readers are encouraged to submit questions to askmarkkostabi@yahoo.com.