They Paid WHAT?

I stumbled upon this article from theguardian.com in one of the artist chat rooms I’ve been known to haunt. It asks a simple question: What sells art?  The question is important, I suppose, because it is on so many minds these days, after the record payments made for paintings at recent auctions.

The answer, according to Philip Hook, Director and Senior Paintings Specialist at Sotheby's, is a mishmash of influences including the artist (of course), their relative ranking in the historic hierarchy, and the level of  “romantic baggage” that accompanies their life story. It also helps if the work fits the artist’s usual, recognizable style, and that it was made in the right period of the artist’s productive life.

Juke Box

Subject matter is important to price, but that waxes and wanes over time with political attitudes and public taste. Condition is important, too. No one wants to pay full price for a moth-eaten drawing – unless of course the damage occurred while the artist was living in a grimy tenement, under an assumed name, hiding out from the authorities or the jealous husband of a prominent mistress while suffering the last throes of the consumption that ended his sad but eventful life. (More of that valuable, colorful baggage stuff.)

It is remarkable, but not surprising, that "wallpower" is the last of the considerations listed by Mr. Hook – i.e., how the piece actually looks hanging on the wall. The uninitiated might think that this would be the primary consideration for the value of an artwork, regardless of pedigree. Or baggage.

Not so. Not so at all. Beauty helps, but it pales in comparison to reputation.

All of this of course begs the question, should we as artists behave in ways that enhances the potential extraneous 'value' of our work? I'm all for ratcheting up my ordinary level of misbehavior, but somehow it seems counterproductive to launch into a life of crime, just to improve the status of my legitimate – until now, anyway – art business. And my wife has already nixed the idea of steamy affairs – no matter how much the resulting press coverage, to say nothing of my untimely death, might positively affect the value of my work after she murders me.

The value of any artist's creative product will be purely sentimental until it is 1) discovered, 2) recognized as valuable by someone whose opinion matters to the art world, and 3) the story of the artist causes people to pay at least as much attention as they do to the thousands of other artists whose work meets the same basic standards of legitimacy.

As artists, we have very little control over any of these things, other than to make our art, and to do as good a job as we possibly can.

I plan to make a lot of art (because I want to), to make it to the best of my ability (also because I want to), and to make as much noise as I can in the process (because I want to do that, too). This I believe improves the chances of its being discovered, and, if I make enough of it for long enough, one or two pieces at some point are bound to synch with the fickle sensitivities of some future incarnation of our protean art cognoscenti, gaining my creations a favorable nod at least, and perhaps one day even an enviable price at auction.

Not that it will matter to me. Like every other artist whose work commands the highest bids, I'll be long dead before that happens.

Hopefully by then the Missus will have been pardoned, and can enjoy the results of her efforts.

I Don't Know Art, But I Know What He Likes

Is there meaning in Art?

Does art have to be meaning-ful to be ‘real’?

Can one appreciate art without knowing what it means?

Is My art meaningful? 

These are the burning questions that percolate through the minds of art aficionados who circulate through galleries, museums, academic art departments and auction houses, and the reasons seasoned professors, art historians, appraisers, critics, gallery owners, and (if they have permission) regular people categorize art according to period, genre, and pedigree – and of course, value, however that elusive quality is defined and measured within the discussion.

 

All The World is a Stage

Most important to me, of course, is whether my art has value. 

At least it should be important to me, and certainly would be if I were to believe the seasoned professors, art historians, appraisers, critics, and gallery owners who have routinely rejected it from serious consideration.

Fortunately, I don’t. But that doesn't mean my art isn't meaningful. I know this because I have given my permission to regular people to do the evaluation, the interpretation, the appraisal and the criticism for me. In thirty years of continuous consultation, they have yet to fail me.

Is my art meaningful? 

Yes.

I know that my drawings have meaning in a variety of contexts, some my own, many more from my various audiences. For me they are fun, entertaining, and deeply satisfying on any number of aesthetic and intellectual levels. This is not merely an advertisement for my work; were it not for these qualities, I would not have left a promising, prestigious career to pursue this tenuous alternative calling.

These drawings constitute a blatant act 

of academic and social sedition.

My audience(s) also find these works entertaining, from, I have heard, humorous, historical, intellectual, traditional, and technical standpoints. One or more of these reasons explains why people give me money for my work product, and encouragement to continue producing.

On a very real level, I also view my humorous drawings as a form of therapy - for myself of course, but also (again from numerous reports and direct experiences over the years) for my clients and customers, and for the ultimate recipients of the images as gifts and honoraria. These pictures somehow have the capacity to make people feel better. For this reason, I believe I am not stepping beyond the bounds of propriety to say that they are in part an extension of my prior near-career in medicine.

Thinking and smiling are 

all but forbidden in our society.

More important than that, these silly drawings constitute a blatant act of academic and social sedition. Hidden within a tightly controlled, semi-realistic style of composite imagery, one finds not just opportunities, but reasons to smile, and often laugh out loud. 

Thinking and smiling, together and at the same time, are all but forbidden in our society. We are generally obliged to do one or the other. We ponder when things are serious, laugh when things are superficial and inconsequential. We think when we are challenged, smile when we are safe.

The confluence of mirth and conscious cognition occurs only rarely, as in certain forms of comedy, puns or insightful one-liners, the occasional tongue-in-cheek editorial or the fleeting humorous criticism of a late night talk show host. In these instances, the material and the message are often dark and political, and tend to cause our thoughts to frown while our faces grin.

The practice of thinking and smiling on the way to making new, positive connections is something all too lacking in our experience. My work serves in some small way to remedy that.

Having fun while learning, playing with the process of making new connections, this is the very definition of creativity. This is what I have to share, through my artwork, with those who care to recognize, and appreciate it.