* Buy art that you love, and enjoy looking at.Not only as investment it must represent your taste. * Develop your “eye” for art, by going to museums,art galleries or the library. * Don’t underestimate the power of Internet: lots of galleries are now available “on-line”. * Collect original art for its richness and added depth, rather than prints. An original painting has texture and volume, and colours are rich. * If you have to settle for a print, choose a high quality canvas print. * Acquire pieces painted by unknown & emerging artists- often you can find them at a reasonable price.

go here for more tips ==> http://www.buildanartcollection.com

Nigel Thomas

Art Enthusiast

One evening last March a friend called to tell me about a “mob scene” that had occurred at the opening of a tiny, one room photography gallery nearby our arts complex, Galerie St. George in Staten Island, New York.

The Creative Photography Guild (“CPG”) had opened its doors to a massive group of attendees during its late spring grand opening.  The gallery, highlighting for the most part local photographers’ works, organized the event as a group show, and about twenty of their members were featured.

The reason the mob scene had erupted, with about 500 attendees crowding into the small space and cars overflowing on the street, was the viral nature of how the members had promoted their event. The fact that the space was tiny added to the “frenzy” that had ensued, a pickpocket could have had a field day and retired.

After my friend hung up, I thought to myself, “How did 20 relatively unknown photographers get 500 people to attend their opening?”

As a gallerist and artists’ manager, the question was very germane to my business, and I wanted to figure it out.

It didn’t take long; I reasoned that each photographer in the show had invited his or her family members, work associates, and fans and patrons that might want to buy their work.  In turn, those invitees told their friends and family about the opening, and another group of attendees was added to the fray.  It didn’t stop there, either.  Those “second-tier” friends and family in turn told their friends and family, and so on.  I’m sure you get the picture!

Pretty soon, this tiny gallery in a room measuring maybe 20 feet  by 15 feet, was housing the overflow of a massive example of viral marketing in the real world. As nature can choose to ravage a mountainside with an avalanche of snow, the photographers’ event blasted off leveraging the theory of social networking, and I’m sure that it was not planned or intentional, just like an avalanche.

I was very impressed by the gallery’s achievement in drawing a crowd, and an idea began to gel for a virtual world version that would capture the power of CPG’s event, and bring it onto an international stage in real-time.

So, in late May, 2009, I formulated the concept for “140 Hours of Fame®”, an online art auction that would embody the power of Twitter®’s social media networking technology to “viralize” our event, and leverage the personal networks of friends, family and art patrons associated with each artist.  I was also introducing a revolutionary concept in the package, allowing bidders to enter their private bidding information from their Twitter account, what I named their “tweetbid®”.  The two forces combining, I envisioned, would be like bringing on the afterburners in an F-16 jet fighter aircraft, and breaking the sound barrier.

In early June I began to distribute some invitations to local artists in New York that I knew and respected, to see what they thought of the idea.  Their first reaction was, “Oh, it’s just going to be an art auction, there are plenty of those all the time”.  So, at first brush-stroke, my message was not getting across.  As an inventor and former high-tech CEO, I knew the perils all too well of presenting ideas to investors and to customers, and the great challenges of both.

I was fortunate to have made contact, through Twitter of course, with a gifted artist and businesswoman in Houston, Texas, Linda Summers Posey, who understood the concept right away and encouraged me to develop it further.  Further along in development, I also had the support of Dottie List, a Lake City, Florida artist, whose expertise in promoting events and reaching out to the media is world class.

The next months into a hot summer in New York City were spent refining all aspects of “140 Hours”, and making sure that our system could accommodate huge web traffic, that we could protect the private information of bidders in the event, and that we would garner the support of international artists.

I was very fortunate, again, to have worked out the kinks and by late June, our platform was indeed ready and many artists began to send in their work from all over the world.  Before long, the 140Hours.com website was stocked full of high-quality artworks of every variety and medium, from high-school aged artists up to some in their mid-80s.  It had become like a big family, and thinking back to the Creative Photography Guild Show, the acid test for publicity and marketing was about to be tested.

Fast forward to October, 2009, when our marketing blitz all over the web took off into high gear.  All of the member artists in “140 Hours” reached out to their social networking contacts and followers, to their local media, and of course to their friends and family and patrons and collectors.  Twitter was used as both a broadcasting system as well as a way to reach art collectors, museums, galleries and the media, and it had become the foundation for a superstructure that we were building into the sky.

The hoped-for response was not only forthcoming; it was like an avalanche of attention on the World Wide Web. Our 100+ artists used Twitter like demolition crews use dynamite, our message that this was the world’s first Twitter art auction exploded and traffic to 140hours.com began to increase exponentially, so much so that the second day of our event, 7 November 2009, saw us knocked off the web because we had strained the resources to the breaking point of our hosting service in Australia.

Beyond the technical structure having been proven to work, after “140 Hours of Fame” went live on November 5^th, it proved that a viral campaign, however modest, can be epochal when the fundamental purpose of the project passes benefits to many.  In our case, we were showcasing both professional artists, who wished to meet a new audience outside of traditional galleries, as well as emerging artists, whose work may not as yet have been exhibited.

In both cases, collectors have the opportunity to acquire both professional artists’ works they may have never seen because the artist is not local to their gallery scene, as well as discovering unknown emerging artists whose works are not yet in any public venue for viewing and purchase.

As of this report, we are mid-way through our auction which is ending on November 11^th, 2009 at 2:21 p.m. Eastern Standard Time.  The “experiment” to aggregate the power of Twitter to both enable “voting” through a bidding process by anyone, anywhere, anytime, and to globally distribute information in real-time about our artists is a robust success.  It also speaks to what I call the “iPhone culture”,  that for better or worse has become ubiquitous in our mobile society.

In my book, it’s all good, and I believe “140 Hours” will effectively offer a new platform for art auctions, one that addresses a new mobile and wireless society, and where the playing field is leveled for all artists to fairly and effectively be found and nurtured with a new audience.

And to think it all began with a photo exhibit that went over-capacity because folks just couldn’t keep it quiet.

I was glancing around my living room this morning, where I was doing some writing from the couch. It’s a room I enjoy, particularly when I have a moment to take in what’s on the walls – an admittedly eclectic collection of artworks. They say a lot about me, and they also tell a story about my life.

When I go into someone’s home, I look at the books on their shelves, and the art on their walls. Or lack thereof, in both instances.

As for books, let’s just say that the more the better – whatever the subject. A home without books – to me – feels empty of a certain quality of life.

When it comes to the walls, I understand that many people are afraid to buy art. They feel they need special background or knowledge, and they have little idea if they’re overpaying, or even if they’ll still like what they choose a few years down the line. I wish more people would just buy what they love – with a bit of due diligence – depending upon the price!

I can always tell when the art is decorator-provided (to go with a new sofa or paint color), and even – to some extent – if it is investment-based, displayed in order to impress, or acquired for value. Of course, a combination of all of these things may be present, and there’s nothing wrong with any of them.

I’m just happy when I see art on the walls! But I especially love seeing art that seems a personal choice, a reflection of a life ongoing, family history, and taste. And “investment art” nonetheless speaks volumes about a belief that art is indeed a worthy investment!

In fact, I think “art smarts” – a knowledge of the work you like,  buy, and retain (particularly if its cost more than a few hundred dollars) – ought to include

• knowledge of the artist and his / her themes, CV, etc.
• knowledge of the period, if applicable
• authentication and documentation (applicable in some instances, less so in others)
• information about age, condition, framing, and ongoing care
• proper valuation and insurance

Certainly, we don’t all have collections; we have art we love – and it’s wonderful to be surrounded by it, or even have a single beautiful painting or sculpture that makes us feel good. But if you are considering collecting, it’s important to know that it doesn’t have to be daunting or even terribly expensive. There are some basics to buying art; I wrote about many of them two years ago, in France magazine, in the context of purchasing art overseas. Those principles are just as appropriate in the US.

Some of the artworks I have were gifts from friends, and I love them because they are about friendship as much as the work itself. Most of my art comes from days long ago, when I was actively collecting, and in some instances the art that drew me to it also brought me into the life of the artist. And so – an extraordinary painting may have brought me a friend.

Other works simply struck something inside me. Asked questions I couldn’t answer. Dazzled me with color, texture, form. Bowled me over with sheer mastery of technique. I love the work on my walls, and it isn’t about what it cost, or what it’s worth – it’s the perpetual journey and relationship I have with the works in question. They nourish me, creatively. They keep me company. They connect me to other lives, other ways of thinking and seeing, other places in the world.

What’s hanging on my walls is definitely not for everyone. I love “outsiders” and also abstraction, as well as contemporary realism. I don’t believe art has to be about pretty pictures, or even recognizable ones. But everything appeals to me – and the art is a reflection of that.

I think most “collectors” feel these things – and naturally, knowing that what’s on your walls holds its value is a good thing; that it increases in value, even better. But more than anything – the pleasure of the experience, each day, has to do with a joyful celebration of the sensory and the cerebral. Something I’m glad is part of my everyday life.

Last, but certainly not least, for parents there’s nothing quite so precious as “kid art” – whenever it may have been done, and my sons’ artworks figure into my collection as cherished pieces.

© Debra Wolf

The Sharpened Eye

After the Bluegrass Bioneers talk, I had works open in a group show at Galerie Hertz in Louisville.  The exhibit dates are October 18 through November 14.  Many of the fifteen sculptures on display were featured first in this blog.  It’s a night and day difference seeing them in a gallery context as opposed to their original settings at the Falls of the Ohio.

This space on South Preston Street is the latest incarnation of Galerie Hertz.  Billy Hertz and his partner Tom Schnepf are rightly credited for their work in revitalizing and rehabilitating old buildings and distressed neighborhoods.  Much of what exists as an art scene in Louisville, especially on Market Street, owes this unique pair a debt of thanks.  Whether lightning can be bottled yet again remains to be seen.  In addition to serving as a gallery, this large, high-ceilinged space is also home to the couple and serves as Billy’s painting studio as well.  Tom is a marvelous gardener and it has been fun to watch black top and concrete being transformed into a living space for plants.

Paintings by M. Van Pelt and W. Goodman line the gallery’s walls.  The opening was relaxed and informal and it was nice visiting with old friends.

Herb Vogel was a postal worker and his wife Dorothy was a librarian, yet they amassed one of the largest and most influential art collections ever assembled in the US. The PBS series, Independent Lens, is airing a documentary tonight titled, “Herb and Dorothy”. The film details how this extraordinary couple turned their fervent love for art into a passionate obsession. Most of their collection now resides in the National Gallery of Art in Washington. The value of their collection is estimated to be in the millions and contains works by many of the leading artists of the latter 20th century.

Read the director’s account of her fascination with the Vogels and more about the film: Read Now

Click this link to read more about the program and find air times for your PBS station: “Herb and Dorothy”

I had a wonderful afternoon window shopping and microcollecting at the annual Arts on Foot fair in Chinatown/Penn Quarter yesterday. I remembered great advice from collector extraordinaire, Philippa Hughes, who advises starting small and getting less expensive pieces from emerging artists. During this rough economic time I still want to support artists by purchasing their work but I have a budget I am trying to stick to.

Fortunately, a lot of the artists brought their work in all sizes, ranging from pocket-size mixed media works to 5×7 matted photos. I picked up 2 beautiful travel photos by Avner Ofer, and one by Joe Shymanski, a pair of beautiful blue-colored glass earrings (I love collecting artisan jewelry) by Worth Cooley-Prost, and a mixed media piece by Cherie Lester. All in all it was a good day. Now, I need to save up money for some proper, artistic frames.

One of my pieces that Randie now owns

Longtime readers may remember me talking about a woman who has helped my career, particularly in it’s beginning.  I consider Randie Reilly (and her family!) my first collector.  She is the mastermind behind the Jack’s Brat holiday home shows that I participated in when I lived in Maryland.  My aunt Margy introduced us, and I’m forever grateful for the opportunities I had through the home shows.  I recently interviewed Randie to give you an inside look into the life of an art collector.

1)What was the first piece of art that you bought? A raku vase Do you still have it? Yes. In my Living room. However I received a small original painting from a friend that was an artist in college and my parents gave me a painting from their collection as a graduation gift from college.

2) What advice would you give a collector who is just beginning their collection? If you see a pattern of things you like go with it. I fell in love with the Raku vase, found out what it was and began looking for Raku after that. Also, I am drawn to colors and shape. When I see something that speaks to me I go with that. My pieces and paintings are mostly abstract but very different styles.

3) Your house was not custom built, yet you’ve managed to turn your living space into something beautiful and uniquely yours.  What are some ways that a collector can integrate art into their home to showcase their style? Well, always display your pieces as a collection, whether it’s teapots, pottery, figuring or whatever. When you display the items together you create a story. Also have a method of display that compliments the art. I used display cubes for my pottery in a prominent place in my living room. That way there is not doubt that this is a collection that is dear to me and tells about what I love.

4) a. What inspired you to throw Jack’s Brat holiday art parties? My love of art and the desire to help out local artists inspired me. On night after receiving an invitation to a Southern Living party I said I wished I could go to a party where they sold art and art pieces by the artist. I was tired of Pampered Chef and the like. I wanted something more art focused and decided to do it myself. b. How did you go about organizing them initially? I just started telling people that this was my idea and then they started telling me about people who were artists that might be interested. I contacted the artist, told them of my intentions and asked if they wanted to participate. Then I organized the event. Then I met with the artist to preview their work and select items for the show. All paintings and sculptures were listed on a price list and I gave out a bio sheet on all of the participating artists.

5) What is your favorite piece of art/fine craft that you own and why? My favorite is probably the painting I received as a graduation present from my parents. It was painted the year I was born and hung in our house all of my childhood. Then my parents changed styles and it went to the basement as as a teen. When they asked what I wanted for graduation I knew immediately that I wanted that painting.  Not only is it beautiful but it holds so many memories for me. I really enjoy that it is now a part of my children’s childhood.

Me, By Pham Luc, portrait of Roma, 26×36 inches, August 2009, image
© 2009 by Pham Luc, photo © 2009 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.

 
 
 
 
In a small travel agency that sits just around the corner from the Hanoi Cathedral, I wait as the owner, Tony Pham, fills out paperwork for my weekend tour. It is hot, unbearably hot in August in Hanoi, and in spite of the fan, I mop sweat from my neck.
 
On the wall behind Tony I see a painting of a red horse against a black background. It’s a small painting but it stands out. The horse wears a cinch around its barrel chest and sloping neck. It is regal, a dancing, prancing stallion.
 
“Who painted the horse,” I want to know.

Tony looks up from his papers. “Ah, he is a famous painter, mentor to my painting teacher.”

“You paint?” I interrupt.

“No, not really.”
 
He brushes off my question and points to the artist’s several other paintings hanging in the office. They are bold. Thick black lines contrast with deep, sometimes bright colors. Each piece moves with energy.

Tony tells me he has many more paintings in his home, that he’ll take me to meet the artist.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he says.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I repeat, and as I walk through the crowded streets back to my hotel, it dawns on me that Tony is an artist living as a businessman. No wonder his tours are so beautiful and magical.
 
 
 
 

* * *

 
 
 
Pham Luc’s home is built in the typical Vietnamese style. Narrow and tall, like a shoebox turned on its end. The bottom floor is a one-car garage, then three floors of living space above. It is the first Vietnamese home I’ve been in that hasn’t been converted to a restaurant or shop. I have a feeling it’s a lot nicer than most Vietnamese homes, yet it’s also simple. Some furniture and a lot of art. Besides the bed and sitting area, plus a kitchen and bathroom, the rest of the house, it seems, is dedicated to Pham Luc’s paintings. Making them and storing them.
 
Pham Luc is having tea when we arrive. He is a compact man, not so much small as solid, as if he is accustomed to physical labor. His hair is black-black, just a hint of gray at the temples, and he has thick eyebrows and a thick mustache that seem to go together. I have no idea how old he is. Later, when asked to guess, I put him at about 55. I am way off.

A Vietnamese collector of his works is also there, drinking tea with Pham Luc. After introductions, Tony and I walk up the two flights of stairs to rooms filled with paintings. One small room holds nothing but works on framed canvas. Tony flips through them, occasionally pulling out ones he especially admires. A young Vietnamese woman who speaks no English appears at the door. She helps Tony move the paintings around so we can get a better look.

Another room is filled with even bigger pieces, some almost as tall and wide as the walls themselves. These are painted with lacquer on black board. They seem massive and wet, as if dripping still with layers of gold and red and black.

We spend a good amount of time upstairs, looking at the paintings, talking about themes. Pham Luc paints rural scenes, festivals, women and babies, old women, nudes reclining. There is no air-conditioning and by now I am sweating so much that I have used up the tissues I brought with me. Pham Luc’s assistant notices that my face and neck are wet; she leaves and returns with a napkin. Her skin is dry. The Vietnamese, I have concluded, do not sweat.
 
 
 
 

* * *

 
 
 
I could have spent a century in those rooms, looking from one painting to the next, trying to see how they change. If not for the heat, I could have spent forever trying to guess what his emotional state was when he went from yellows, pinks, and lime greens (elated) to browns and grays and navy blue (depressed).

I gather that he paints his moods, that, yes, he has a fundamental style (in fact, the book he gave me of pieces spanning three decades of his work shows as much) but that nothing about him is static.
 
We drink green tea, strong and bitter, and I try to keep up with the men, as if the tea were bourbon. Pham Luc mentions that he does not drink beer, and I get the feeling that it was a decision he was forced to make—beer or art?, art or beer?—at some point in his career.

But hot tea comes in pot-fulls, brought out by the assistant who doesn’t sweat, always in the same small teapot that looks like it’s made of jade.
 
Somewhere along the line, Pham Luc tells me he would like to paint me. Tony translates: “He wants to paint you and give you the painting to take home.” A small photo album is produced, and in it I see images of beaming Westerners standing next to their Pham Luc portraits. It is something he sometimes does, I later learn from watching a CD he sends home with me, in order to delight his visitors.

I’m game. (Isn’t it game, after all, that got me here?) I stay where I’m sitting, still dressed in the black blouse and white linen slacks that I wore to my day’s appointments. I look away from Tony and the collector, towards a flat screen TV and more paintings leaning against walls. The assistant comes in with paints and a large canvas stapled to a wooden easel, which Pham Luc props against a chair. He squats in front of the canvas, paints by his side, and he works quietly and quickly.

I don’t look at what he’s doing, partly for the same reason I hate looking at photos of myself and partly to not break the pose. Every now and then I turn to Tony and the collector so that I can ask them questions. They speak in Vietnamese, but Tony translates.

I learn that there is a Pham Luc Collectors Club, that some collectors have thousands of Pham Luc paintings, that his works are owned by ambassadors and dignitaries and people all over the world, and that he has had exhibitions in France, Italy, The Netherlands, Canada. They tell me he will come to Boston in 2010 and, maybe could I go?

If I stay facing Tony and the collector too long, Pham Luc asks me to turn my head back the other way.
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
My lips are fuller, cheekbones higher. I look French. I look beautiful, and it makes me feel beautiful to know he saw that in me. And for that I immediately love this compact man with the black mustache, and I love Vietnam even more than before, the North especially—erudite, intellectual, lovers of art.

He completed the painting in maybe 30 minutes, although now I can’t be sure. Looking back, time passed and I lost track of time. For example, I have no recollection of him smoking, although I have a photo of his pack of Camel cigarettes, the words SMOKING KILLS in block letters on the front. He must have lit up while I was there, I am sure of it, but I don’t recall being bothered by the smoke.

I do remember that after he finished the portrait and turned the canvas for us to see, we let out a collective gasp. Then Pham Luc walked to us, pointing to his arms and gesturing excitedly. The hair on his forearms stood on end; confused, I looked to Tony for translation.

“It’s good, it’s good,” Tony assured me, “it means the painting is great.”

For the moment, Pham Luc is pure energy.
 
Later, when I ask Tony in the taxi why Pham Luc would give me a painting, even after I pleaded to purchase it instead, he says it is because of the gift that I gave to Pham Luc. “He knows that now, after his visitors are gone, he will be able to paint.”
 
 
 

Pham Luc paints at night, during daytime, when awake at night, or even if he has just recovered between sicknesses and can sit up. The motivation behind his creation is like a karma, a curse of fate. If he can’t paint he will get sick and will be like a flu-infested chicken. Many times I saw him grubby in a mess of colors and lacquer as if haunted.
 
                    ~Dr. Nguyen Si Dung, from Painter Fạm Lực

* * *

 
 
 
It takes an hour, maybe two, for the painting to dry. We continue to sit and talk. At one point I look across to Pham Luc; he is holding a large white envelope close to his face, sketching a doodle of me. When he is done, he shows it to me. Another gift to take home. 

Later still, he walks over to a dresser and picks up a small piece of art done in lacquer on wood. I admire it, hand it back, and then Tony translates. ”No, it’s for you.”

Then Pham Luc goes and gets two more and asks me to choose from among the three. They are nudes done in simple black lines on gold leaf. I like them all, but Tony and the collector have a strong opinion that I take one in particular, so I choose it.
 
We talk, drink more tea. Pham Luc gets up and again rummages around the room, notices behind one of the larger paintings a small, colorful portrait of himself on canvas. In the painting, he wears no shirt and holds a cigarette between his fingers. Again, he hands me the painting. A gift.

“Please,” I tell him, “please, it’s too much.”

He says something in Vietnamese, which Tony translates. “You are my friend, and I am his friend, so now you are his friend.”
 
I glance at the beautiful Roma on the large canvas that is still drying, and I marvel at my luck. Yes, luck! Karma, good fortune, call it whatever you want, but here I am sitting, talking, laughing, drinking tea, being painted, being feted with generosity and brilliance. I am a small thing basking in the light of a huge thing. Someone ordinary touched by someone extraordinary.
 
 
 

I am disabled but crazy about Pham Luc’s paintings. Many Vietnamese and foreign friends coming to my home to see my collection were amazed at the creations of Pham Luc. Many asked me why I collected so many paintings. I replied, “Each painting is a support for me to overcome handicap and integrate into life. His paintings give me confidence in life and aspiration to rise up. In my difficult times and in pain, I come to his paintings to seek consolation, sympathy and often find in them peace amidst the storms of life.”
 
                    ~Ngo Quang Tuan, from Painter Fạm Lực

* * *

 
 
 
Pham Luc was born in 1943 in the village of Hue. He was a soldier and painter in Vietnam’s People’s Army, documenting the scenes he saw. From the books and brochures I have about him, I understand he became a major in the army, but always he was a painter. He told me that the reason he is not married—he’s been divorced twice—is that his wives did not understand his need to constantly paint.
 
There is a painting upstairs in one of the rooms, of a woman with a rifle, behind her a water buffalo. The colors are muted but the overall effect is of activism. Pham Luc painted the piece in 1986, and Tony and I found it behind other, more recent works. Before I leave Pham Luc’s home, I ask the assistant to bring it down so that I might look at it again. There are many beautiful paintings here, but always my eyes go back to the woman with the rifle.

I buy the painting from Pham Luc. For a song.
 
 
 

He doesn’t need money. He spends all his money on charities, his children, and buying gold, silver, lacquer and colors. So what does he need? To build his fame? May be, but may be not. In fact, he is already very famous. Many people know him and admire him. Ambassadors in Hanoi buy his paintings and make friends with him. So the answer to his efforts lies in his passion. Because he can’t do otherwise.
 
                     ~Dr. Nguyen Si Dung, from Painter Fạm Lực

* * *

Sòn d âù, (I hope that spelling is correct), 32×24 inches, 1986, image © 1986-2009
by Pham Luc, photo © 2009 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.

 
 
 
 
I am deeply grateful to Tony Pham and to Pham Luc. The three hours I spent with the two of them that day in early August are among the best memories I have of Vietnam, of travel abroad, and of life experiences, period. In Tony, I found a kindred spirit, an artist inside his heart, and someone whose love of art infuses his daily work. In Pham Luc, I found kindness, happiness, and what it means to give of oneself.
 
 
 

He was born in a poor countryside in a deprived village in the Central region of Vietnam and used to be a soldier fighting in the wars. He lives and paints with qualities of a farmer and Uncle Ho soldier. These qualities have become his humane belongings. No wonder many people sympathize with, love, and are crazy for his art. He is so happy!
 
                    ~An Chuong, from Painter Fạm Lực

* * *

GALLERY 

 
These are works that I photographed during my visit. They are my favorites among the many that I saw that day. I do not have names, dates, nor sizes for any of the paintings. They all appear to be oil on canvas, and almost all of them are fairly large. They are reprinted here with the artist’s permission.

LINKS

• Pham Luc website
• Pham Luc Art Club
• About Pham Luc
• Pham Luc: A Painter of Humanitarian Ideal
• Veteran Artist Captures Asia’s Bold Spirit

I had the itch to make a larger figure today, but only had a few hours to do it in.  I reached my outdoor studio and was elated to find that someone had left me a couple presents.  Two very abstract sculptures made with the materials I had left behind.  Here are what they looked like:

Not exactly my style, but I appreciate the effort.  In the six years I’ve been working out here only a half dozen or so anonymous works have been made with the materials I’ve salvaged off the river’s edge and left on site.    Here’s the piece I quickly put together and photographed.

With walnut and bingo dauber eyes this guy rode out the short rain shower with me.  We have been having some uncharacteristically cool and sunny days that have been picture perfect.  Unfortunately for me, they don’t seem to be occurring when I’m actually at the Falls.  I did a bit of slipping and sliding on the mud surface as I posed this piece along the riverbank.  There is this site that has all these abandoned car and truck tires and I wanted to see if I could make  an interesting image on location.

As I was moving this piece around and photographing it, I was approached by two local guys.  “Delante” on the left and his friend “Mikey” asked me if I could take their picture standing next to the figure.  At least it will give a better idea of scale.  They were moving down the shoreline looking for stuff to get into.  I later ran into them again with some of their friends and they were complaining of being “bored”.  That’s something I’ve heard my own sons say before and they know it always gets a rise out of me.  Life is too short to get bored!  You could always make Styrofoam figures like me for instance!  Now there’s an antidote for boredom.  One last image…this one is of two friends fishing and walking on water. 

Herb and Dorothy Vogel at the National Gallery. They amassed a valuable collection of contemporary art over the years on a modest income. (Fine Line Media)

After-hours at the Blanton Museum of Art at the University of Texas at Austin. A small group of significant ­donors seated around a conference table slip on ­print-handling gloves and then— with Christmas-morning-like anticipation—turn their attention to the large shipping crate that a curator is carefully unpacking. It’s a scene that has already taken or soon will be taking place at 49 other museums, one in each state: the opening of a gift of 50 works of art sent by Herb and Dorothy Vogel.

The backstory to the Dorothy and Herbert Vogel Collection…New York-born Herb, a high-school dropout and aspiring artist who worked a day job as a postal clerk, married Dorothy Hoffman of Elmira, N.Y., a Brooklyn librarian who also became an aspiring painter. The Dorothy and Herbert Vogel Collection is what resulted from their decision shortly thereafter, in the mid-1960s, to collect rather than make art. They earmarked Herb’s modest salary for that purpose, and for much of the next four decades the pair were Zelig-like presences on the New York art scene, easily attending as many as 25 shows a week. In 1990, it would take five full-size moving vans to empty their one-bedroom Upper East Side apartment of the 2,400 works—covering every inch of wall space, stacked in crates and under beds—that they’d so voraciously collected.

More

Ann S. Lewis
Wall Street Journal

What is ‘fun’ about an Art Show?

 I remember a time when I used to think of art gallery openings and shows being only for the rich and popular ‘in crowd’ and that they were events that were stuffy and not fun. Then I began actually putting on art shows as a Painter and Photographer and found just how much fun these events can be. It is a huge amount of work setting up for these shows and dragging easels, tables, art, food, wine, music or whatever props you have to create a positive environment but once you are there and the evening is set, the interactions and the fun starts when the people start to arrive.

For starters, most of these art events are free and a great opportunity to meet people, mingle and experience some great culture, food and make new friends. I have been to art shows where the homeless and the rich both mingled together in the same room and no one was uncomfortable. Everyone was there to see and experience the art and not just sit back and observe but be a part of the cultural experience and interact with others as well as get inspired.

Granted I remember some art shows I attended where most of the artists had tattoos and gathered outside and smoked and I did not quite fit in whereas others I was able to mingle with the crowd, strike up conversations and observe absolute strangers sitting down at a table together to break bread, fellowship and enjoy a relaxing afternoon or evening, all in the name of celebrating culture. These are the moments where you can sit back and not only observe culture but shape it and be a part of it. These are the moments I remember the most.

As far as art shows go there is a variety to attend on any given weekend that can be pretty easily broken down into three varieties; open air art festivals that attract mammoth crowds, group art shows at galleries, church or community centers that are more intimate where a variety of art and styles are shown and finally, the more intimate ‘one man show’ as they call them out west, where one artist puts on an exhibit and gets to meet and interact with the crowd as a solo exhibitor.

Out of the three types of shows, my favorite is the latter two where there is more of a personal interaction between artists and art show attendees. As an artist, it is up to you to shine or look silly in front of a group of friends and absolute strangers and show them your work and who or what you are all about. It is a community event where you get to know your neighbors and get out and impact an audience, no matter how large or small. As a Patron, it is a chance to get out and take in new experiences and share something with others in your community.

I tried the outdoor art festival events when I was younger and did sell things but just found the mentality to be a zoo of people herding their kids and friends trying to navigate through a maze of art vendors and getting overwhelmed by all of the sights and art work to take in. If you really want to enjoy an art show, go to the art gallery openings, community centers and indoor events that are less overwhelming. I guarantee it will be a more enjoyable experience and you have the opportunity to take in the event at your own pace without having to trip over a moving crowd in the heat.

Also, here is some advice to fellow Artists; if you are going to pay good money to sit in the heat all day and show your work, make an effort to be friendly and interact with your potential customers. The key word there being ‘potential’. Who is a potential customer? Everyone and anyone. If nothing else, make the effort to make a new friend or fan of your work.

I recently attended the Mount Dora Art Festival and it was a huge gathering of wall to wall people and a well attended show. I went to see the art but also observe other artists to see how they worked the crowd, gain some contacts and yes, even buy some art.

I attended one artist’s booth that was more worried about people photographing or stealing his work rather than being cordial. I opened my digital camera to photograph the crowd and he immediately got up and started waving his arms and trying to get my attention. I assured him I was not there to steal his work and even showed him some of the crowd photos I had taken. It was all I could do to keep from saying I had no interest in buying his work, let alone photographing it to reproduce but I did my best to put him at ease then went about my business before being so rudely interrupted. Note to self – never do what this guy did. Yes you want to protect your work that you have labored to create but not at the expense of creating a bad memory or reputation in the process.

Another artist booth I attended I saw a piece that I loved and complemented the Artist telling them, ‘this is the best work I have seen here all day’. I received a very snide ‘thank you’ then watched the artist hide behind their tent and disappear. Note to other artists – never ever, ever, ever disrespect someone who is complementing your work by showing them disinterest. The old saying “never bite the hand that feeds you” could never apply more than this situation. I presented this artist with an opportunity to tell me more about their creation, hand me a business card and hear more about them. Instead I received a dead pan ‘thank you’ as they showed me their back. That artist lost a sale that day not to mention my respect. They had some great work but their mind was elsewhere apparently. Sound picky? Try making a sale that way and see what happens. If you have the opportunity to win a person over, take it. How often every day do you get an opportunity to impress someone? Even in bad economic times, art still sells if it moves a person.  

Always take time to mingle with the crowd. Even if you are not a people person, learn to talk to people and make some friends. Artist Andy Warhol knew this the best and became a master at working the crowds. People may not have always liked Andy Warhol’s work, but they liked Andy Warhol. He loved doing shows and he became a great public relations person doing shows and mingling with people as often as he could.

People may not always like your work but if they like you, they will make an investment in you. One of my artist friends reiterated this fact to me in a discussion we were having one day. She said ‘they are not just buying a painting, they are buying a ‘Sharon Pollard’ and she is right. In each painting, regardless of the subject matter, there is also an artist’s unique style, signature and method of painting that makes that piece of art uniquely theirs and uniquely ‘you’ if you created it.   

So, whether you are a serious art collector, lover of the arts or just looking for something different to do and take in some culture on a Friday night, enjoy the experience and take It for what it is, a night on the town to experience some culture and relaxation. That, after all, is what art is meant for – to enhance and enrich your life and offer an escape from the boredom and / or stress from living in a stressed out world.

Have fun, make some friends and if you like what you see, take home a treasure to adorn your home that will be a souvenir from the evening and something to make your home uniquely yours.

If you are lucky enough to own a piece of original art, there is no doubt that one of the greatest benefits is the feelings that it gives you. Happiness is one of the most obvious sentiments that your hanging art will provide and it is this that often gives people the most pleasure.   The feelings of well-being can start before the final act of buying art.   The excitement of searching for and deciding upon your chosen oil painting from Eire-Art.com can be huge.   Of course it is often greatest with the first piece of original art that you buy, but for many people this doesn’t lessen, no matter how many times they buy art.  Collecting art can become a very pleasant addiction for some.

Another benefit of owning original art is its aesthetic quality. The hanging art enhances the room in which they are displayed and this is often the prime consideration when someone is thinking of buying art.   Just knowing that they complete your interior design can lift the mood of the room and everyone in it.   Oil paintings  provide focal sites and talking points almost every time.

A wall hanging can compliment, or contrast with, the surroundings in which it is displayed.  If it is bought to blend in with the décor then it is likely to be the finishing touch on an otherwise perfect room.  However, many people prefer to have the piece stand out from the rest of the room.  This will undoubtedly ensure that the artwork is noticed, and admired, by everyone.   Abstract art lends itself to this particularly well.

Many people will appreciate the quality of an original art piece and the impression that it gives is one of individuality of the owner. Depending on the size and type of art, it may also lend an air of success to the lucky buyer. This is particularly the case for original oil paintings.  The impression of wealth is one that may or may not be founded in reality, but it is often the impression that counts.  A person might prefer to have a number of smaller pieces of a particular artist or buy the largest that they can afford.   It really makes no difference.   They are showing that they can afford exactly what they want – original art.

Continuing on the topic of wealth, there is no doubt that pieces of original art tend to increase in value over time. Many people have no intention of selling the work that they have just purchased, but they can be the basis for any inheritance for their children.  Buying an original piece of art can have a purely financial basis and the potential future value of the painting may have been the deciding factor.

There are many benefits to owning original art; however the most important one by far is simply for the love of it. Original works of art should be appreciated and give many years of joy to the new owner.