Curators extraordinaire Kate Fleming and Nancy Hoffmeier came to my studio this week to choose work for my next show*. Kate shared a comment with me that she heard from another artist: “Over the years I’ve watched people coming to my shows, and it seems to me that a person has to have strong self love if they are going to purchase a work of art for themselves. Buying art, it’s a curious act.”
It IS a curious act. I too have noticed how differently people react when they find a piece of art they connect with. Some are very clear, and the only question they may ask is, Do you have a payment plan? Others just can’t quite make the leap. They hesitate and hold back, usually leaving empty handed.
I don’t think the difference is financial. Many of those hesitators have no problem spending the cost of a painting for one night’s meal or for an article of clothing. And many of my art clients who buy over and over again are not well heeled. The difference may be a strong sense of self care and self love. Meals and clothing don’t call up questions of personal worthiness since they are, categorically, “essentials”. But art. That’s pleasure for your self and soul. Some people have a hard time believing they deserve it.
I hope my patrons feel the way I do: I have never regretted any of my art purchases. And over the years, I have made plenty. (This is not meant to sound self righteous or self-serving–for an artist, having lots of art around is a categorical essential! For those who might be interested, most of my art collection is posted on Slow Painters.)
That’s the curious act part. Now the taking leave. I will be out of town until October 2 and will resume my postings at that time.
*For my friends in the Boston/Cambridge area, I will be showing at 38 Cameron Gallery, October through mid-December. An artist reception is scheduled for Friday, October 19, 6-9pm.
It is a curious thing. It’s not money, although I know if I had more discretionary dollars I would spend more on art. I allow myself one big purchase a year, but I also do several smaller.
I have a friend who works in philanthropy, and she’s convinced that giving is something passed down, learned. Maybe buying art, too. Maybe it’s something like manners or conservation. Except, my parents never bought art. It wasn’t something they did. Even now, Mom showed me recently a couple of prints she’d found at Goodwill for her bedroom.
Well, they did buy a couple of original paintings when I was younger. It was a big deal. Maybe that left me with an impression or appreciation, but it was probably something else.
I like that concept–a learned behavior, like philanthropy. I too came from a family where it was not the norm. I remember vividly the few pieces we had that were original.
But for my children, they grew up with a house full of original art and have already started their own collections. Not to be confused with those Wall Street billionaire collector kids…!
Truthfully…It’s been both my my experience and observation of others, that alot more people would buy original art if they were not made to feel intimidated by the Gallery owners. I think many people are afraid to even approach to ask questions because they do not want to sound inexperienced. And many Gallery owners make the mistake of pre-judging who is a potential client and give off a “too hip for you” attitude that turns people away.
Case in point (and this is only one example): My husband and I drove 75 miles to a gallery opening to see one photographer’s work that i particularly admire. I frequently buy originals and have a fairly thorough art background. On this occasion, we were both wearing jeans and sneakers and as we studied this artist’s work, we were greeted by the most pompous ass (pardon me) I’ve ever met. He neither took time the to explain any of the photographs nor give any background on the artist himself. I later wrote this gallery (something I never do) to tell them that this person was doing a dis-service to this artist and found out he was the owner!
I believe that any artist (wishing to actually sell) should be cautious and protective in their choice of who represents their work because it could be the difference in swaying the undecided person to ask questions, receive educating or inspiring answers and ultimately open that pocket book.
You have identified some big big problems in the selling of fine art. For one, the issue of context is a major factor. I wish it weren’t so, but setting makes an enormous difference.
And the intimidation factor of the “white space” gallery world is one of the reasons why Open Studios events are so popular. Nobody likes to be made to feel stupid or to be treated as if they are inferior.
I’m always looking for a better and more direct way for people to connect with art. Because it is, after all, one of life’s great experiences. Every time it happens to me I am thrilled.
It makes my heart happy to know you understand and are striving for connection.
I think everyone that appreciates art, rich or poor, ignorant or knowledgeable of the process, deserves to connect with those inspired to create. I only wish more original art were available for those of simple means. I hope, in my own life, to make some small change in that direction.
I know each time I look at one of my own collected pieces, I am reminded of the person who put a little piece of themselves into it…making me admired it enough to recognize something in it, meaningful to me and want to claim it for my own… and I always assure them, it goes into appreciative, loving hands.
That’s a great point. I wrote a post about going into a gallery in Taos, dressed almost like a bag lady. (I was there for a silent retreat, and all care about how I looked went out the window.) The gallery owner looked me up and down and had the oddest expression on his face. When I said I was interested in one particular piece, he engaged with me. But I had to ask him first. He didn’t say, “Let me know if you have questions,” or offer to talk to me about any of the pieces in the show. I ended up buying the piece, and now when I go to the gallery he’s very nice.
I love the open studio when you can be in direct contact with the artist. It is so much less intimidating. As someone who is just starting my art collection I am very used to the gallery once-over brush-off. I wish that stumbling over art in a natural surrounding, like Andy Goldsworthy or the Spiral Jetty, could happen more often—it is so pleasurable.
I never thought about equating buying art with self love, but I see the connection.
Having a work of art to contemplate daily is not a luxury only the wealthy can indulge in, I agree. Your post has inspired me to be more creative in how I go about purchasing art.
I recently started a yoga training program that I had always denied myself, coming up with a dozen reasons why I couldn’t or shouldn’t do it. Only when I started valuing my true self did I decide to follow through with my plans. I see this as analogous to buying artwork.