You ought to love it

I'm going to digress a bit from my stated focus for this blog because I want to talk about an interesting article in The New York Times Style Magazine entitled 'At a New York Gallery, Confronting the Art World's Existential Crisis' (M.H. Miller, May 1, 2018). You'll find the entire article here: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/01/t-magazine/art/sean-kelly-collect-wisely.html?hpw&rref=t-magazine&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&module=well-region&region=bottom-well&WT.nav=bottom-well. Gallery owner, Sean Kelly, is attempting to change the fact that today's buyers of major artworks (some recent examples include a $450 million Leonardo da Vinci painting, a $35 million de Kooning, and a $150 million Modigliani) are usually more interested in the investment they are making than the work itself.

Leonardo's 'Salvatore Mundi'
(still some controversy over attribution)

Mr. Kelley has "launched an initiative called Collect Wisely, an advertisement- and event-driven campaign that, he hopes, will invigorate the collecting class's interest in actual art." He wants collectors to buy because they've found something they can't live without, not because the work can be sold at a profit eventually. One of Mr. Kelly's artists is Kehindo Wiley, who painted Barack Obama's official portrait:

Mr. Obama's portrait got a lot of news coverage, and "this was the first time Kelly could remember an artist generating national headlines for something other than what their work was worth or sold for."

While I have absolutely no experience with the art world at that level, and it's still my dream to sell a painting for even $1000s, I still can't imagine being happy about a sale made strictly as an investment. I realize art is a business - believe me, I'm trying to make a living at it. And I don't have any answers, just observations. Mostly, I wish Mr. Kelly great success, but he's fighting an uphill battle in a capitalist society.

The flip-side of the coin is voiced eloquently in an April 29, 2018, blog post by Corrina Rothwell, a UK artist and illustrator. Ms. Rothwell, like a lot of us, runs a small creative business and laments one of the biggest issues facing such businesses - the difficulty in making sales even though the creator-owners work hard all the time. She cites her experiences in selling at fairs, where attendees thumb through her highly original greeting cards, laughing and complimenting her, then put the cards back in their slots and walk away without buying a single one. [This is] "about my frustration . . . at the lack of awareness out there. You know, people say 'oh, it must be so nice to work for yourself and just draw pictures all day, do what you like all the time.' Yes, it is great to have that freedom, but I don't know ANYONE who draws pictures all day and I'm convinced that you'd be surprised at how MUCH of our time is spent trying to get people interested in our work and to buy it, as opposed to actually doing the art. It's about encouraging people to actually, in real terms, support these small creative businesses they purport to love."

Now here's a level I can relate to. I have asked numerous people with marketing experience: "How do I get someone looking at my work from telling me how much s/he loves it to asking the price?" Seriously, it's like people aren't even considering a purchase and must believe I'm sweating through this art and craft fair so they can have nice things to look at while they take a walk. Yeah, it's frustrating.

Most artists do not exactly excel at sales. That' why we seek gallery representation and open Etsy stores. And you'd be surprised how little you have to spend to support us financially and emotionally. If you love the work, make a purchase. And don't wait. It might not be available when you finally decide to buy it. (My friend Kate, a textile artist, calls those booth and studio visitors "be-backs," as in "I'm going home to measure the space I have in mind, but I'll be back." I don't have to tell you what happens after that.)

Okay. Deep breath. Cynicism is too easy to give in to. I have dear and loyal patrons who make going back to my easel a joy and a challenge. I am forever grateful for their interest in and support for my work. And I know they're buying something they love. Even if it's just a card. 

A photo of spring beauty from my garden.