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Original Australian
Contemporary Art
Julian Merrow-Smith is a brilliant artist. At least I think he is. I have been receiving his “painting a day” for more than a year now.
His artistic abilities are beyond question, but his business skills are right on the mark.
It was Minds Island which ran an article on Duane Keiser, the purported originator of the “A Painting A Day” movement. Julian Merrow-Smith was mentioned in the article as another important proponent.
Julian has managed to capitalise on his location — a small village in the viticultural region of Provence in south eastern France — his artistic skills, the power of the Internet, and the seemingly insatiable world desire for original art. He paints in oils on small (typically 8” X 5”) “canvasses” of gessoed card. One would have the impression that his landscapes are executed “en plein air”, especially when he travels to Spain, Italy or elsewhere in France.
He has a website which is sheer brilliance. It combines an off-the-shelf content management system, with an off-the-shelf blogging system (for on-line comments) and a Permalink facility, with an off-the-shelf mailing list manager — all open source software. The piece-de-resistance is an online auction system with payment by PayPal. So he sends out his “daily” painting image as an HTML email, elicits comments with commentators’ URLs, runs the online auction (no -- not eBay) with a starting price of USD100 over 24 hours, gets USD400+ as the highest bid, sends the painting in a padded post bag anywhere in the Universe for USD16, adds the image to his website archive and moves on. He also collects new subscriptions automatically, so that his mailing list grows “virally”.
When the weather is good, he goes outdoors and paints the season around him. Many landscapes are very simple — a tree, a track, a barn, a sunset, clouds after rain, a row of hills, vines in spring, vine leaves in Fall. His followers in big US cities track the seasons which envelop him in a faraway place called Provence. Heaven!
When the weather doesn’t permit an outing, he paints a still life. Fruit, garlic cloves, a lemon, a jar of anchovies, a vase of flowers, an apple and knife, an egg and a painting, old tubes of paint; in short anything lying around the house is subject matter. The still lives seem to dominate his works of late. I would estimate that he spends perhaps 2 or 3 hours on each work. Some look a little under done, others are superb. All provide a minute glimpse of a farmhouse in provincial France where an artist and his musician wife live and work. The fruits change with the season, so the sense of the passing of time remains even indoors.
While I prefer his landscapes -- especially the larger and more complex variety -- over the “Postcards from Provence”, it seems that feedback from Julian’s adoring fans would suggest that the small still life paintings sell better. A quick review of Duane Keiser’s website suggests that he also prefers still life paintings of everyday objects around the house or studio. Candy, cookies, a leaf, etc. Clearly, Duane’s choice of subject matter allows him to demonstrate his considerable artistic abilities, but does not require lengthy explanation to the viewer as to what the imagery means. Julian tends to instil a sense of French rural life into his works by avoiding modernity — most subjects are timeless.
As the Minds Island article pointed out, the Painting A Day movement offered a fresh, quick, fluid, but well executed, very affordable, original oil painting which could be snail-mailed at low cost anywhere in the world. It also brightened the inboxes of several thousand subscribers. For the artist it offered a cash cow where an online auction system augmented the price from an initial USD100 to perhaps USD400-500. It also allowed room for the artist to execute other, perhaps more serious, works during the day.
Finally, here’s the point of this ‘blog; feedback is extremely important, especially when an artist wants to please his collectors and to sell more works. My daughter likes Julian’s still life paintings a lot. I appreciate her honest opinion, but it’s not about my work as such. Anyway, as a family member, she cannot but be biased.
Reading the comments appended to each of Julian’s postings, one would get a very strong impression that all is goodness and light. However, keep in mind that most blogging software offers the option for the blogger to moderate (accept or reject) the comment before it appears on the posting. So, it would be a very brave blogger to accept negative criticism for publishing on the Web.
I wonder whether I should try painting still lives?
I certainly must update my website with a feedback/comment mechanism, an archival facility, an online auction,...
A current exhibition in Sydney by a well-respected Australian photographer has been closed subsequent to a complaint by a very active advocate of children’s rights. At issue is the depiction of a 13 year old female unclothed body, photographed in a semi-darkened studio.
The artist is represented in the Biblioteque Nationale in Paris, and many major galleries and museums. Nobody has complained about his work previously.
The reader will notice that so far I have not mentioned the words “paedophilia”, “pornography”, “sexuality”, “child exploitation”, “revolting”, “disgusting” or even “distasteful”, but there are many in our community who immediately leap to the worst possible conclusion even on mere hearsay. Even our politicians who have not even visited the exhibition seem to be grossly offended by it.
It’s a sorry situation in a society saturated with the commercial exploitation of the female body of any age and no matter how skimpily clad, that an unclothed young female body somehow becomes naked and vulnerable to exploitation of the worst possible kind. That the body should be viewed facing the camera somehow screams “paedophilia” and “sexual exploitation” to these moral stalwarts. Apparently the child’s parents are totally to blame, since clearly the 13 year old is unable to decide for herself that she may be mentally scarred for life as a result of this depravity.
What a society of small-minded bigots some of us have become. We seem to be unable to differentiate between the overt sexual exploitation of children that is paedophilia, and the sensitive depiction of the transition of a female body from childhood to womanhood (which I believe happens to about 50% of humans in this life).
If these anguished moralists had their way, we would be tearing down statues of cherubim and seraphim from the walls of churches, white-washing the Sistine Chapel ceiling frescoes, closing down museums and art galleries, and generally cleaning up our society that appears to be on a downhill slide into moral depravity.
In a letter to the editor of a daily newspaper, one woman suggests that artists are expected to explore new frontiers so could they please stop exposing the nude female body. I totally agree. The expanding waistline of today’s society puts many female nudes into the category of “revolting” and “disgusting”. But wait! The recent $34 million sale of a Lucien Freud painting of a morbidly obese female nude made front page news. I don’t recall the words “pornography” or “sexuality” or other such disparaging terms in the associated text.HOW TO FLOG ART TO UNSUSPECTING PASSERS-BY
On the topic of exchanging art for money, an artist must move beyond his personal milieu and into the rough-and-tumble world of commerce for the simple reason that the latter demands a quality product. In my mind, the “quality” aspect of a piece of art is a global thing, encompassing the total process of creation from concept to finished product. To merit a reward, be it financial or professional recognition, the artwork must be packaged appropriately. The artist must be able to articulate, in speech or in writing, what it is that he has created, and why. The artwork must be exhibited in a setting which enhances its positive attributes, preferably in an environment where it is complimented by other serious works by other well-known artists.
As examples of what I mean, let’s look at how a Main Street gallery operates:
• The premises are located in an arts precinct where serious collectors are likely to assemble, and where it is safe and comfortable to visit. New York and Paris are good;
• Walls are matt white (or in the case of a gallery in Whistler in Canada, rusty red) and uncluttered;
• The lighting is strong and direct, but can be dimmed at will to emphasise specific works;
• Paintings are hung at eye level, and not too crowded;
• (I like to present in “gallery-wrap” unframed format, but with the painting continuing on around the [unstapled] edges);
• Prices are clearly marked in black type on white raised card at the lower right of the art works;
• “Untitled” is NOT an appropriate title for an artwork, nor is the series “Oblivion I”, “Oblivion II”, …….”Oblivion N”;
• The bookcase behind the director’s modest desk is absolutely crammed with art books, each with several pink Post-It notes hanging out of the well thumbed pages;
• A DL-format invitation on card, with a brief artist resume, contact details, photograph of the artist, and images of selected artworks is sent to a large (e)mail distribution list two weeks prior to opening;
• The exhibition (of say 35 works) is advertised in artworld magazines, the arts sections of daily newspapers, and perhaps in shop windows in Main Street;
• The opening night offers wines, canapes, cheese, biscuits, etc. The who’s-who of Hicksville want to be seen mixing it with the beautiful people. Of course, society magazine photographers will be there. Fancy dress is optional;
• The gallery director is, or would like you to believe he/she is, an internationally recognized expert in art and will assure collectors that these artworks are guaranteed to appreciate as gold-plated investments;
• Oh, and the internationally acclaimed, prize-winning artist must be present at the opening. I like to look clean-shaven, well-coiffed, freshly-showered and dressed to impress. Body art and body-piercing do not figure in my life.
So, in summary, a piece of crumpled paper from my waste basket, if beautifully framed, signed and presented in a formal gallery setting, should fetch a ridiculous price. Oh, but I jest.
OK, so that’s the theory, but I am hoping that you will agree it’s a worthy goal. Yes there’re truckloads of bovine excrement involved, but I know in my heart that I have produced and presented a quality product.
As a final remark, the young guy selling his works in a very expensive hotel lobby in Whistler told me he’d tested the waters at the local Farmers Market. He knew what would sell, what would not, and the prices his customers were happy to pay. When he moved into his own gallery he continued to sell the same genre, but at double the price — still eminently reasonable in my estimation given his $4,000 rental overhead per month. That bow wave really sharpens the senses so that you know you’re alive.LEFT- AND RIGHT-BRAINED AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Legend has it that I drew a recognisable aircraft at kindergarten aged four. It was executed in red water-based paint on white butcher’s paper and featured four engines.
What would a psychologist have to say about this momentous event in my early life? Would she have predicted an artistic career, or did the subject matter and detail suggest an engineering profession? Or, following the sage advice of the many pundits throughout my life, a career in architecture combining the two skills?
Were there really four engines? Without doubt I could count to four at that age; in fact I could spell the name of our suburb “Camberwell” backwards. Did this attention to detail indicate a predilection for deterministic pursuits such as engineering? This is “left brain” territory where thinking processes are logical, sequential, rational, analytical, objective and concerned with parts of systems rather than the whole. Left-brain scholastic subjects focus on logical thinking, analysis and accuracy. In general, schools tended to favour left-brain modes of thinking, while downplaying the right-brain ones. Thus, once I put my mind to it, I excelled at the high level applied mathematics required in electrical engineering, particularly the computer aided solutions of otherwise intractable equations involved in my PhD treatise “Wave Propagation on Helices”, with application to slow-wave devices and satellite antennae.
Why electrical engineering, when as a child I loved building things for my tricycle including a trailer and a brake-down jib and hook? I could have been a mechanical engineer or, based on the dams I built on Canberra’s Cotter River during summer vacations – a civil engineer. Very early on my father supplied me with batteries, small light bulbs and hook-up wire. Legend has it that at the age of six I knew that I wanted to be an electrical engineer and to build electric cars.
Every summer our family of five crammed into the mid-size car, boot full of suitcases, roof rack bulging with tent and assorted camping equipment, and we would drive interstate. I have vivid memories of the passing landscape, its colours, its textures and its smell – particularly early in the morning or at dusk. When most children were fidgety after a couple of hours, I quietly revelled in the Australian bushscapes, and dreamt of how I would capture selected scenes on paper when I returned home.
In retrospect, much of what I built during my schooling and university years was more about how it looked than how it worked. When my friends strung together birds’ nests of transistors and hook-up wire in a cardboard box or discarded cake tin, my contraptions were carefully painted pieces of furniture. The working innards were either hidden from view, or became pieces of art in their own right. I can remember clearly the wiring exhibits of PMG technicians-in-training at the Royal Show in Melbourne in September each year. Each competing entry was an exquisite artistic masterpiece of coloured wires, beautifully loomed and tied into bundles like the plaited tresses of a beautiful woman.
These admissions sound very “right brained” in which thought processes are described as random, intuitive, holistic, synthesising, subjective and concerned with the whole rather than its parts. Right-brained subjects focus on aesthetics, feeling and creativity.
Looking back now, I can see that the urge to create has always been very strong, but has generally been directed at something “useful”. I am a creator and a producer as distinct from a consumer. I read books to learn and I listen to music while I am creating. Neither reading, nor listening is a complete activity in its own right. Nor is lying on a beach or sitting in a bar. Movies fall into the same category because they compete with precious creativity time. However, when a film has a constructive theme, then it might resonate with me. An example of such a movie was “Miss Potter” in which a creator of illustrated children’s books overcame gender prejudice to achieve fame and fortune in her own time.
The creation of artworks was essentially suppressed in favour of my professional engineering activities and the general pressure of suburban life and family. Painting pictures was something one did as a hobby, and if money changed hands, it was a token gesture. One of my close school friends who showed great talent in school art classes, and pursued a successful career as a professional artist, admitted to me just prior to his untimely death that he really wasn’t good at anything else. Essentially that’s all he could do well to make a living. A rather sad reflection I thought, but an echo of the community’s general view of artists in many respects. Not quite as extreme as the poor homeless mendicant installed on the street at the Queen Victoria Market with his “folio” of drawings on the pavement around him. In his pathetic world, the production of “art” might be pessimistically viewed as busking rather than begging or, more optimistically as the beginning of a creative career and sowing the seeds of self-esteem.
In my case, there was always an element of self-doubt in the creation of art. I did not think that my art was of a sufficient standard to show to a wider audience. In my mind there was a belief that the ability to paint was innate, and techniques to transfer ideas and forms into acceptably good paintings was simply a matter of trying out various combinations of materials. Art classes were considered, but I was never sure what it was that I needed to learn. How does one teach aesthetics, feelings and creativity?
On the other hand, a lifetime of experimentation has taught me what materials work for me and what gives me the greatest satisfaction in a finished work. Thankfully this process continues to evolve and in my opinion each new painting is far superior to the previous one. However, my left-brain tendencies tend to show through my artworks in terms of the logical aspects of the creative process and, in particular, attention to detail. I strive to “let go” in each new painting, attempting to let the work flow rather than slavishly recreating the intricacies of the original scene. I feel the need to “communicate” with the viewer so that the artwork conveys a message rather than simply embodying my technical skills as a graphic artist. The artwork should be more than decorative, although I often think that the “message” is more often in the mind of the consumer than in the intention of the creator.
The process of marketing my works is without doubt a left-brained activity, and probably something rather poorly executed by the generic artist of urban myth. As the world becomes more globalised and we communicate via the World Wide Web, I can put my computer and telecommunications skills to good use in developing websites, weblogs and newsletters. I can now display images of my artworks to a potentially global audience, and my marketing activities concentrate on the “numbers game”. However, unlike most other transactions in the world of consumerism, serious art stands alone in combining the artwork and the artist. Art collectors want to purchase from an artist they know and understand. They may buy a diamond ring from a swank jeweller in the premier avenue of their city but feel absolutely no need to meet the artisan or know why he created the exquisite and unique piece. In contrast, many art lovers take great comfort from the fact that they have interacted with the creator of their purchase, to the point where they will feel that they have bought a “piece of the artist’s soul”. The late Australian artist Pro Hart literally sold each artwork with a dab of his saliva, admittedly for the purpose of “watermarking” each work with a DNA sample to distinguish a genuine Pro Hart from a copy.Last weekend my wife and I visited a major regional gallery about one hour south of Melbourne (Australia) on the Mornington Peninsula. We were attracted by the title of the exhibition, well advertised in our daily press – “Aspendale Beach” – referring to a littoral suburb on Port Phillip. Aspendale in the 1960s was a beach holiday resort where people of means escaped the stifling heat of central Melbourne. Today it’s merely another Melbourne (population almost 4 million) suburb, albeit one with white sands and a superb view of the bay.
The photographic exhibition was a collection of black and white family snaps from the scrapbooks of artistic icons of the mid 20th century in Melbourne. Art patrons, restaurateurs, artists and their children came to Aspendale Beach to paint, socialise, philosophise, and relax on the beach. One or two were wealthy enough to engage avant-garde architects to design and build simple but very creative holiday houses.
As artists did, and probably still do, they cavorted on the beach and in the “privacy” of their “fishbowl” beach dwellings. I don’t think that “mooning” had yet been invented, but displays of the female derrière – with and without transparent French lace knickers – was intended to show how uninhibited artists were in the company of friends.
While there was a handful of attractive art works hanging in the exhibition, this was a collection of paraphernalia documenting in monotone the colourful lives of eccentric people in the 1960s. Black and white movies, not of children frolicking on the beach, but of sultry girlfriends with come-hither looks, run on continuous loops. Flickering slide shows of annotated scrapbooks run beside a short video made by the architect of a two-storey beach house, whose plans adorn the wall.
Artists seemed to be a very socially adept breed, offsetting the essentially solitary nature of creating works of art. I for one had great difficulty keeping up with the various legitimate and illegitimate liaisons, names of family members, artists and patrons, and occupations of the “significant others” whose salaries paid for the indulgences of the creative few.
So, this exhibition was a snapshot in time of a beachside magnet for a handful of Melbourne artists and their hangers-on. What did it tell me?
It said that a curator at a major regional art gallery thought it important enough to expose the lives of artists, some with household names, at a time and in a place where there were no pretensions. As Mary Lawler and Maria Williams-Russell have suggested, serious art lovers don’t just buy art because it matches the curtains or the wallpaper, they also see it as an extension of the artist. Getting to know an artist and what motivates him/her to create art is an important ingredient in the process of collecting. It’s a bit like having the public wander through one’s studio, then through the kitchen and finally the bedroom. Scary, isn’t it? Let’s hope things don’t deteriorate to “dumpster-diving”.
Blogging is one way to expose one’s soul to the world. Perhaps it will be easier to curate retrospectives in the future, simply because more material will be available in electronic format.
Will you be considered a sufficiently important influence on the evolution of art in your region to warrant an exhibition, not of your artworks, but of your life, loves and the littoral?Yes, I know, it is unashamed name-dropping. I do it all the time. I simply cannot help myself. If you were in Positano on the Italian Amalfi Coast, and the sun was shining, you would want to relive the experience over and over again.
So I painted the Positano beach front. Outside "Chez Black", a seafood restaurant and probably quite famous in
its own right. Funny name -- half French and half English in a well-known Italian tourist magnet. No I didn't eat there; I just stood in awe under the Mediterranean pines and soaked up the ambiance. However, unlike the "local" street artist, I was not throwing together an amateurish mish-mash of coloured paints to sell to passing tourists. No, mine was going to be an accurate record of the colours, textures and bustle of the world's most stunning coastline (and we have some pretty serious competition in Australia, I can assure you).
Like any human being, I wanted to go back for more, and then some more after that. A photograph satisfies some of the craving, but it is too ephemeral. However, by painting the scene, I can almost completely immerse myself in the ambiance and relive the moment for as long as I want. The more detail I choose to insert, the more I discover about the place. However, I must rely on memory for the gentle sea breeze, the warmth of the sun, the lapping of the waves on the pebbles, and the aroma of cooking at midday.
Conveniently I choose to forget the strident voices of tourists, the unpleasant odours of fish scraps in alleyways, and the surge of celebrity cruise participants spilling out of polished mini-buses into narrow, bougainvillea-bedecked fashion strips linking uphill car parks with the beach promenade far below.
While I paint, I am there. I wonder whether the white portico under the white conservatory belongs to a hotel, an apartment building or a famous opera singer. I was told that Sophia Loren has a house along the "Mama Mia" coast near Praiano, and the director Frederico Fellini also has a view to die for. I look up at the terraced cliffs and wonder how they built many of the mansions on impossible rocky outcrops. Would I prefer a view to the horizon, at the top of 700 steps, or a short flight to the edge of the Mediterranean and my own private rock ledge above the impossibly azure water?
It is really no wonder artists are so poorly recompensed for their considerable efforts. Those of us who prefer to paint Nature at her finest are rewarded over and over again.
Pure indulgence!A very old painter, art dealer, patron of the arts and philanthropist once advised me, "Art is simply PR". By that he meant that an artist must seek every opportunity to promote himself and his work.
Art lovers will have read this week that Mark Wallinger who among other things, spent 10 days in a gallery dressed as a bear, has won the Turner prize of 25,000 pounds for his meticulous re-creation of Brian Haw's anti-war protest in Parliament Square, London. A former Turner Prize winner is Damien Hirst, well-known for preserving large sharks in formalin and for covering the plaster cast of a human skull in diamonds.
Ok, so I am an artist and not a publicity-seeking stuntman. How can I reach my target audience and increase my sales?
What if I said that I think it is simply a numbers game? The marketing gurus would fall about laughing, then suggest I target my promotional activities for maximum sales effect. I simply need to get a sufficient number of qualified customers in front of my artworks, set my prices at an appropriate level, and start taking orders.
So how do I play the numbers game?
* Sell to family and friends
While earlier paintings were gifts, especially for important birthdays, they hang proudly on walls in several homes and are seen by others. Later paintings have been commissioned and a price has been negotiated.
* Enter local art shows
I know that it sounds rather callous, but small art shows such as those organised by parish churches, tend to be very expensive ways to promote art. While organisers insist that works be framed at the artist's expense, even minor handling mishaps can damage the frame, making the painting unsaleable. Hanging space is at a premium, customers are few and far between, and the standard of work is variable. Often amateur artists will produce outstanding work, but will place unrealistically low prices on their pieces.
* Exhibit at major domestic art shows
Art shows with a reputation tend to attract many more artists than can be hung. So it is not unusual for an artist to wait for several years before being "juried" into a hanging space or two. The next step is to be hung in a prominent location, followed by winning a prize, and then being asked to demonstrate one's skills at a public workshop.
Novices often enter the maximum number of framed works, on the assumption that the judge will choose one or more for hanging. Before judging, every piece is potentially valuable and the organisers wearing white gloves can visualise their 25% commission on sales. After judging, the works which have not been selected immediately assume a "negative value" - that is, they have to be stored somewhere for the duration of the show, since the organisers claim the right to replace a sold piece with one in storage. Unhappily, I can personally vouch that every piece that has been in storage is returned torn, scratched and dented. My advice is to only submit one or two works - it is also cheaper that way.
* Exhibit at major international art shows
Now we are talking serious investment in promotion, but when handled efficiently, this can be very worthwhile. The first hurdle is to be invited to exhibit at the show. This effectively means that I have been "juried" by the show organising committee, a gallery which sponsors me, or a government agency which is fostering export development. While I am now competing with the "creme-de-la-creme" of the international art world, I am definitely in the right company. I am also guaranteed that there will be 60,000 visitors - not necessarily to my floor, my booth or my wall of paintings - but I do know that they have paid an admission fee and have devoted several hours of their time to look at good art.
* Exhibit in a private gallery
While a gallery manager may insist that the artist pays for the wine and finger food at the exhibition opening, the gallery must be convinced that your artwork has a chance of selling in order to keep the door open and the lights on. The gallery may be local to your studio, in another city or state, or overseas. You and the gallery should combine your list of contacts to maximise the number of invitations sent out. Expect the gallery manager to extract a large commission from sales of the order of 50%.
* Place your works in public places such as coffee shops and restaurants
A good idea, but people generally don't frequent coffee shops to buy art. You may only reach a fraction of your target market.
* Use an Internet blog to promote your work
There have been several articles about devotees of "The Painting A Day" school where small format original works in oil are sold via private online auction on the Internet. A mailer program is used to "push" emailed images of the daily paintings to a mail list of "qualified" artlovers. New members can join the mailing list on line, and theoretically the list should grow "virally". The starting price may be as low as $100 and the winning bid can be $400-$500. Payment is made via PayPal.
Hypothetically, this is a great idea which uses technology very effectively. However, the key to success is PR yet again. The successful entrepreneurs have been "discovered" by a national newspaper or television program and have seen their mailing lists grow exponentially overnight. My mailing list has yet to expand much beyond family and friends. It has yet to exceed the "critical mass" required for "viral growth".
* Exhibit on the Internet
OK, so that's what I am doing now on ArtID. I do it on other well-known art websites. I have my own website. Once again I have a PR issue. Who knows I am out there in artistic cyberspace? How do I play the numbers game? At least I can confirm that I have six entries on the first results page of a Google search on my name.
* Use all of the above
Except perhaps the local art shows. I have resolved to surround myself with quality work, both mine and the work of others. By that means, I will be encouraged to improve as well as having the confidence to demand higher prices. I have already exhibited internationally in Shanghai, China and am now represented by a long-established and respected private gallery in Shanghai.Christies and Sotheby’s completed major art auctions in Melbourne last year, setting new price records for Australian art. The star of the show was a work by John Brack, first sold at his second solo exhibition in 1955 for 90 guineas (A$5,000 in today’s money), and fetching A$3,172,000 last week (April 2006). The painting, titled “The Bar” and portraying a barmaid amid a sea of faceless male drinkers, was a comment on society’s strict views on the public consumption of alcohol and women’s reluctant role in the workforce. Brack considered the work his best at the time. The previous top price for a Brack was A$528,750 in 2003 for “Beginning 1884”.
The sale to an un-named collector was a major disappointment to Melbourne’s National Gallery of Victoria which already has a famous Brack on its walls and saw “The Bar” as a natural companion to “Collins Street, 5PM”.
The record price for an Australian painting, prior to Sotheby’s sale of the Brack, was achieved by Christies in 1998 – A$2,312,500 for Fred McCubbin’s “Bush Idyll”.
Christies, whose auction was their last in Australia, turned over A$6.3 million on their 330-lot catalogue. Sotheby’s realised A$9 million on 57 works.
It would seem that Australia’s economic strength, boosted by China’s insatiable appetite for resources, and reflected in stock-market records, is pushing art prices through the roof. While it is encouraging to read about the top end of the price spectrum, is there a pull-through effect on lower-priced art works? Are the same mechanisms at play at the Minds Island level? It would appear that there are ever-increasing numbers of walls in new homes and apartments, and people in general like art, but is there a trend to buy originals? And will buyers pay top dollar for quality?
For those readers interested in the top six Australian artworks by price, a list has been compiled by Geoff Maslen of Melbourne’s “The Age” newspaper.
The Bar, by John Brack – A$3.172 million, April 2006;
Bush Idyll, by Frederick McCubbin – A$2.3 million, 1998;
Sunlight Sweet, Coogee, by Sir Arthur Streeton - $A2.05 million, 2005;
Upwey Landscape, by Fred Williams – A$1.987 million, April 2006;
The Jacaranda Tree, by Brett Whiteley – A$1.98 million, 1999;
A View of Geelong, by Eugene von Guerard – A$1.98 million, 1996.
An interesting footnote is that three of the six artists are survived by wives, so we are not talking about classic masterpieces in the European sense. (However, feminists might point out that none of the artists was female).It seems to me that the world of fine art is similar to that of Hollywood - what makes an ordinary person into an international movie star? A modicum of talent, good networking skills, good physical looks, and a great public relations crew. Do the drugs and sex come before stardom, or is it that stars live in multi-media bubbles, revealing all the wrinkles born of fame? Why do people buy prints of Henri Matisse's "Nue aux oranges" for their kitchen walls, when Matisse was using his three year-old grandchild to do his paintings (sorry - my personal and cynical interpretation)? Why does a "Picasso" signature at the foot of a squiggly pencil line command obscenely large prices at auction?
Another comment often made to me is that Australian artists are expected to paint Australian scenes - not French ones. But, that conflicts with the hypothesis that the art works may evoke in customers pleasant memories of past travel in far off lands. I will go on painting the subjects which give me great joy, and if someone wants to compliment me by purchasing a work, so much the better.DEVELOPMENT OF A SIGNATURE STYLE
The recent death of iconic Australian "bush" artist from Broken Hill - Pro (Kevin) Hart - brings to mind another issue which occupies the thoughts of many aspiring artists. Pro Hart was a miner who loved to paint the people and landscapes of his native outback. His mates called him the professor because of his knowledge of things cerebral rather than manual. His prolific output was colourful and somewhat naïve, but affordable and immediately identifiable as his work. So much so that, in latter days, he was known to include a dab of spittle next to his signature as a unique DNA marking to discourage forgeries.
In the quest for media exposure, the expectation is that artists should develop a signature style. If a potential customer sees an artist's work, but it is not available for one of many reasons, then there is an expectation that another work from the same easel will be as good, if not superior. And it will be of the same genre, if not the same size or medium.
As an artist's style matures, there is a challenge to determine what will sell best. This may be perceived by the artist as cramping his/her style to suit a market segment, and it may be seen as pandering to commercialism to follow current trends.
It appears to me that many of the great artists simply followed their instincts and, if successful, were labelled trendsetters. If they had already established a reputation, they could afford to be "cutting edge". Otherwise they simply starved as usual.
I am sure that many great artists would turn in their graves if they were to read the microscopic audits of their lives as written by art critics of today. Did they really set out to do "blue periods" or "pink periods" with the expectation that their well-heeled clients were redecorating in blue or pink at that particular time?
So, the moral of this story is that, in going for an all-out assault on all avenues of exposure for one's works, one should keep in mind that the public is easily confused. Therefore, try to build a reputation for a particular style so that, as one's work pops up on the Internet, in a gallery, or within one's own extended personal network, it is easily recognisable as a work of quality from one's own easel. This is one more reason to ensure that only quality sales channels are used to promote serious works of art.The recent demise of Australia’s foremost bush artist, Pro Hart, has spawned a number of newspaper articles on his remarkable life.
One brief review centred on his prolific output over his 40-year career. Given that he died at 77, he must have begun to paint seriously at age 37 — a relatively late developer for an artist. The article suggested that he produced between 20 and 50 works per day during those 40 years. I suspect a modicum of journalistic licence here. Let’s be conservative and assume he produced 20 works per day, comprising paintings, drawings, doodles, tablecloth sketches, oil sketches, and the occasional Christmas card to remind Australia’s National Gallery that he was alive and kicking but unrepresented in their hallowed halls. Let’s also assume that he had a life outside painting and allow him weekends and holidays to unwind. That’s 250 working days per year times 40 years times 20 works per day — a total of 200,000 works. Hoo boy!
Another famous Australian painter, the late Sir Sidney Nolan, was only credited with 30,000 in his lifetime.
So, who’s counting?
Well, the simple act of dropping off one’s perch triggers the Tax Department to request the executors to value the estate for probate purposes. So, Pro Hart’s unfortunate executors have had to scour the world for all of his works “on loan”, as well as those stored in his attic, in the shed and under his bed. Remember, these works are now appreciating by the minute.
Clearly, Pro Hart produced a prodigious number of works during his lifetime. His naïve signature style of stick figures and bright translucent colours meant that small works could be produced in great quantities and very quickly. In many respects, the orange of the outback earth, the olive green of gum trees and the incredible blue of the unpolluted skies were simply a background for ever-changing scenes in a never-ending saga of the hardships of Australian bush life.
Is quantity achieved at the expense of quality? Certainly Pro’s dynamic personality drove him to tell story after story in image form. Many artists fear that, if they flood the market, they will diminish the prices they receive for their works. But Pro took the view that, by producing affordable works, all Australians could have an original over their mantelpieces.
The point to make here is that the Internet makes it well nigh impossible to “flood the market”. However, I have a personal view that a painting not only tells a story — it is also a technical triumph. I have even gone so far as to suggest that a good painting contains a piece of an artist’s soul. I am not sure what that meant for Pro Hart’s soul towards the end of his life!
Mass production is also associated with the factories of South East Asia: while each work is an original, its hundreds of cousins bear an uncanny likeness to each other. We also know that the gallery owners make very high profits on the $25 cost of a 36 inch by 24 inch oil on stretched canvas.
So, the moral of this story is that an artist should never second-guess the tastes of his customers. With several billion potential clients only a mouse-click away, an artist can afford to enjoy the process of producing a magnum opus or a lot of mini opi (opuses).
How to Flog Art to Unsuspecting Passers-By
Left- and Right-Brained Autobiography
Development of a Signature Style
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