Artists have few things in common with gallery owners, slightly different values and ambitions, life strategies and points of view, yet the gallery system remains the restricted bottle neck of art distribution. As a business the gallery is just a consignment shop for the artist, and an artificially-ranked pre-selected product line for patrons, little wonder it’s so difficult for artists to make a living and for average folks to acquire the art they want.
First of all the gallery business is not always about making money, sometimes more about losing money, handy for tax write-offs and a diversion for those who don’t need any. This is hardly ever the case for the artist, and as desperation is always a disadvantage, galleries still have the upper hand. Theirs is not a business based on volume, they're trolling just for the wealthy fish, with art as their bait.
They build their snares in the most expensive real estate they can hope to afford someday, austere sensory-deprived polar regions where the occasional curious fish swims in, perusing. They are approached with radar-like attention to shoes, demeanor, general finish. A few questions discern origin, wealth, and relative level of art awareness, tailoring the perfect pitch on the fly -- ‘let me show you something special.’ Not many artists want to know the details, the sly confidential glances over teacups it takes to unload their most serious efforts, and galleries think of the artists as innocent, unappreciative brats. There’s these contradictions built in.
Better would be to visit the galleries, pretend an interest just to listen to their spiel, it’s all free, and then go swimming in the wide ocean, art for sale up in restaurants and salons, in artists’ coops, in studios and artist-owned galleries open to the public. Buying direct doesn’t come with the nodding, smiling assurance that you’ve done the right thing, but then you won’t be paying a hundred percent markup for just holding your hand, either.
First of all the gallery business is not always about making money, sometimes more about losing money, handy for tax write-offs and a diversion for those who don’t need any. This is hardly ever the case for the artist, and as desperation is always a disadvantage, galleries still have the upper hand. Theirs is not a business based on volume, they're trolling just for the wealthy fish, with art as their bait.
They build their snares in the most expensive real estate they can hope to afford someday, austere sensory-deprived polar regions where the occasional curious fish swims in, perusing. They are approached with radar-like attention to shoes, demeanor, general finish. A few questions discern origin, wealth, and relative level of art awareness, tailoring the perfect pitch on the fly -- ‘let me show you something special.’ Not many artists want to know the details, the sly confidential glances over teacups it takes to unload their most serious efforts, and galleries think of the artists as innocent, unappreciative brats. There’s these contradictions built in.
Better would be to visit the galleries, pretend an interest just to listen to their spiel, it’s all free, and then go swimming in the wide ocean, art for sale up in restaurants and salons, in artists’ coops, in studios and artist-owned galleries open to the public. Buying direct doesn’t come with the nodding, smiling assurance that you’ve done the right thing, but then you won’t be paying a hundred percent markup for just holding your hand, either.
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