Musings -- aka Blog (Archive)
THE ART OF SELLING
ONLINE – ONE ARTIST’S
EXPERIENCES A
conversation between Dai Wynn and Terri Lloyd
Many of the comments here were made with tongue firmly in cheek, so no
one should feel offended. Nevertheless, this is meant to be a serious
dissertation on marketing art. Dai Wynn.
Absolutely! Funny how some artists are so very afraid of this aspect
of business. I guess they like being secret agents or expect some Hollywood
fantasy about "being discovered." Terri Lloyd.
Dai Wynn’s ‘blog post
Introduction
I will apologise if you have already read my thoughts in other ‘blogs
because I am revisiting some fairly basic ideas in this treatise. What
I would dearly love to happen as a result of writing this ‘blog,
is to receive comments from other artists who have been more successful
than I.
I paint landscapes, seascapes and portraits in oils on canvas and watercolours
on paper. I guess you could define my style as realism. Many of the oils
are quite small which allows me to produce a wider variety, keeps the
cost down, and facilitates shipping by post in a padded envelope. Prima
facie, these ought to be ideal candidates for selling online.
Now, assuming there is a market for this genre of original art (fresh,
original, inexpensive, and does not require large wall spaces), and
that my artwork has some merit, here’s a summary of my efforts
to sell online over the last three years.
Online Presence
1. Website. I have my own website with my own domain
name, being my own name and therefore short and simple to remember.
www.daiwynn.com I have
chosen the .com without a country suffix because a majority of my
viewers are North American and it’s a more international format. On the
home page I have a slide show of recent works as well as the current
week’s painting. There are two galleries containing 66 works, a
contact information page, a ‘blog page, a page of useful links,
and a link to my weekly eNewsletter subscription site. Each gallery thumbnail
is backed by a larger image with details of the artwork and a PayPal “Buy
Now” button if available for sale.
2. eNewsletter. Each Wednesday I send out an eNewsletter
(using PHPList mailing list software on my own server) to a mailing
list of around 80
people. The email contains an image of a recent artwork, with a short
description and buttons to “Buy Now” or “Leave a Comment”.
3. ‘Blogsite In conjunction with the weekly
eNewsletter, I publish a ‘blog (using bespoke Wordpress software on my own server) in
the same format as the email. However, I embed HTML code generated by
PayPal to offer the viewer a “Buy Now” button which links
to my account on the PayPal site.
4. Twitter. I limit my tweets to less than one per day, but it is amazing
how many people see them and how much traffic this generates to my websites.
I try to make my tweets serious and meaningful and always include a shortened
URL link to my online presence.
5. Facebook. I have yet to put time and effort into Facebook, but when
I do, it will be serious and designed to promote my artwork, while providing
a little more information about me and my painting activities.
6. Networked Blogs. An initiative of Facebook, this
echoes my weekly (Wordpress –based) ‘blog.
7. Other Art Sites. My home page offers links to an online presence at:
a. Saachi
b. RedBubble
8. Google Analytics. All HTML code under my control
contains a small amount of Google code and Javascript. Every time
somebody (other than
me) accesses one of my sites, Google makes a note of their city,
country, browser type, Internet connection type, time on site, number
of pages
viewed, whether they are a first time visitor or are returning for
the “nth” time,
how they found me (direct access, were referred by another site,
or as a result of a search) and a host of other statistics. Google
provides
maps, pie charts and graphs in abundance.
9. Google Name Search. An advanced search on “Dai Wynn” (just
that two-word phrase without any misspellings or similar words) brought
up 59 results in 7 pages when I looked a couple of days ago. But
you have to know my name first.
10. Google Adwords. Back in March 2010, Google offered
me a $75 voucher to try Adwords. I set a daily limit of $10, so the
promotion would run
for a week. It turns out that each click was worth just under $1,
so I received an extra 10 clicks each day. Extra sales – zero. Return
on investment – zero. Despite the targeted key phrases used
for the week, the resulting visits were no more useful than without
Adwords.
Results Since September 2007
•
The average number of “pageviews” over a rolling 30-day
period has increased from 170 to around 700;
• The average number of unique visits has increased from less than 100
to around 400;
• Currently, new visits account for 80% of traffic;
• Direct traffic is about 7% of the total; search engines provide 12.5%,
and 80% comes from referring sites which are almost exclusively Google-branded;
• Pages viewed per visit are 1.7 and time on site is 1 minute and 30 seconds;
• The bounce rate is around 70%.
Comments on results
•
Google.com refers the most visits to my site, 98.84% are new visits and
the majority stay on site for around 16 seconds. That suggests to me
that, while searching Google Images for example, they are surprised to
find an image result for “rainforest stream” is an oil painting
of mine, surrounded by professional photographs. (Number 2 of three images).
But on clicking through to my site, they realise I cannot offer what
they need – information on rainforests. Similarly, a search on “French
Alpine Forest” in Google Images throws up two of my oil paintings
in positions 1 and 4. On the other hand, visitors to my home page
or gallery pages stay for up to two and a half minutes.
Online Sales
Despite the convenience of a PayPal “Buy Now” button on the ‘blog
page and a low price, I can only claim two online sales – both
to people who know me in real-life. Oh, and a couple of studio-door
sales to local people who saw my work online.
What are the Major Issues in Online Selling?
• The Offer. Offer a quality product. The best you can produce.
• The Buyers. As many self-qualified buyers as possible. That is, people
who actually want to follow you and to see your work with a view to buying.
Many organisations claim to offer methods to increase the “hit
rate”, but if they are all first timers and stay for 16 seconds,
then they are not buyers.
• The Price. This is a difficult subject. An artist who is successful in
selling online was forced to install bespoke online auction software,
initially to avoid the embarrassing situation of multiple buyers
for unique artworks. The 24-hour auctions also ensured that he was paid true
market price for each work.
• Exposure. Rather than expecting the number of visits to increase over
time by natural processes, some online artists have been lucky enough
to have been “discovered” by the media. One such online artist
was written up in the New York Times art section and now has a mailing
list of over four thousand “self-qualified” followers,
predominantly in the USA. There is also a theory that viewers who
stumble on his eNewsletter
can subscribe themselves to his database, thereby increasing the
number of self-qualified followers virally. In my case, this has
happened only
rarely, possibly because people fear the use of their email for spam.
What Needs to be Improved
• Trust. Just who is Dai Wynn?
o Social networking may help to define me as a real-life artist and therefore
build trust. Bad news travels at the speed of light on the Internet.
o Association with bricks and mortar galleries should build a reputation
because people need the assurance of “experts” in the
field.
o Keeping online prices low should reduce the risks of “dodgy deals” if
buyers still lack confidence in my ability to deliver a quality product
to the other side of the world.
• Self-qualified Follower Numbers. The 80 or so names on my mailing list
are mostly friends and acquaintances who would be the first to admit
that they do not buy art. They are, however, relieved to know that
I am still alive. Getting to four thousand self-qualified names is my biggest
challenge.
• Painting Subjects. What will sell best?
• Quality. Clearly, this is an area of continuous improvement for all artists.
• Price. Yes, I have had one instance where I gave away a small watercolour
to a friend returning to London. A week or so later, someone bought it
online. I had forgotten to mark the painting as SOLD and to remove the
PayPal “Buy Now” button. Another challenge I have is
to install online auction software, although this one instance probably
will not
be repeated any time soon.
• Online Payment. I am assuming that PayPal offers a convenient and secure
method of online payment. But it does require a credit card or a
bank account set-up and these are not universal in many parts of the world.
The Basics
• Artists are selling products that people can generally do without;
• While investment in art is supposed to increase when the stockmarket
is down, I am not sure that helps me to sell;
• Browsing art online is a whole lot easier than driving through rain and
snow to the shopping mall. But, moving away from your web page requires
a single click.
• Online selling is no easier that through bricks-and-mortar galleries,
just different.
•
Online selling is a much less expensive way for “name” artists
to move their products to receptive audiences.
•
The four thousand strong mailing list of self-qualified followers belongs
to you and not to some gallery. That’s because you the artist
sweated blood to build the list.
Terri Lloyd’s Response (in italics)
I think this is a pretty good little marketing plan. As someone who works
in advertising and marketing I applaud your work.
But I want to know what your brand is. What is your core message? As
a potential customer I want to know what's in it for me. WHY should I
invest in you and your work. (2 prongs there.) Or ever do business with
you? Answer these questions and you might see results over response.
What you are experiencing is response. What you want are results.
As a marketer I want to know what you consider success in regards to
your marketing efforts. Have you defined clearly what you consider a
success for each marketing effort? Are you only focusing on the bottom
line? Or are you looking to build brand identity and reach? A social
networking fan base? Or do you simply want web traffic, and if that's
the case, some simple SEO tactics will help you out. No biggie.
Have you planned out a multi-channel strategy which includes conventional
channels of advertising and PR? You've created a great base of online
tactics, but again, what is the strategy?
Better yet, what is your selling cycle? Because once you know this, you
can plan an advertising campaign around this cycle. One ad, one tagline
a campaign does not make.
Do you understand your market? Your clients? What is that they are seeking?
Does your message align with this? Are you saying enough about the work,
or are you assuming it will speak for itself? Is your market astute enough
to make leaps? Or does every channel you use have a step by step process
that enables the potential investor/client to move through easily enough,
including a clear call to action? A Paypal button isn't motivation to
buy.
Why should I get excited about you and your product? What differentiates
you and the work from other artists in your market and genre categories?
Who is your customer and why? Are you marketing to these people, or do
you simply assume that everyone who likes art is your client? (They aren't.)
What are you doing to get publicity outside of the web? Does every thing
you do outside of the Internet in regards to marketing, advertising and
PR point to your website and its shopping cart?
Are you easy to work with, or are you eccentric? Are you building relationships
or a list?
These are the things I think about immediately after reading your post.
In my case, I don't care to sell work online. I know that my clientele
need to experience it in person and then experience me as well. Online
is an introduction, a first exposure in many cases. I understand the
quality of who responds to my advertising. I've cultivated my message
to attract these people. Whether or not they buy is up to the relationship
I develop with them.
It's also up to the relationship I develop with the venues I place my
art in for show. Again, this must align with me and my message.
Dai
Wynn’s Response
Thank you for your excellent review of my ‘blog from a marketer’s
perspective. As you might have guessed, I have approached the subject
of online selling from a technical angle.
Allow me to address each of your valid comments in sequence.
My brand? Myself. Dai Wynn. Born David Wynn. Owner of website www.daiwynn.com
I have not used a pseudonym or fancy username. My avatar is a photograph
of me.
Core message? “Unique investments for everyday enjoyment”.
My artworks are unique. I hope that each is more than just a pretty
picture. I hope that they evoke pleasant memories. I expect that
they will be
enjoyed by all who see them as their value increases over time.
Value to potential customers? Sensual appreciation, financial appreciation.
A talking point; something no-one else has.
Why invest in Dai Wynn? As his reputation grows, so will the customer’s
pride in owning a Dai Wynn in addition to the everyday enjoyment.
It will vindicate the wisdom of the initial choice.
Why invest in Dai Wynn’s work? In the context of online selling,
and at relatively low online prices, the word “investment” might
not necessarily be appropriate. It’s simply fresh, unique,
small enough to fit in a handy space and totally affordable.
Results over responses? Precisely. As I pointed out in my ‘blog,
the majority of techniques for generating online traffic cannot guarantee
that a larger number of responses will result in greater results.
Marketing Effort Success? Unless an artist wants to frantically generate
a warehouse full of unwanted artistic gems, or to see the walls of
friends and family groaning under the weight of “gifts”,
a laudable measure of success is for totally random art aficionados
to pay market
prices for unique art works. Just as bricks-and-mortar galleries
do, I must use every tool at my disposal to generate a base of loyal
fans
who will help me find those totally random, cashed-up buyers.
Multi-channel strategy? Sort of. Clearly an online presence is far from
solid at this time. The barrier to entry is so low that competition is
too great and quality too variable. An approach to conventional High
Street galleries is also necessary, as well as artists societies and
common interest groups.
Advertising and selling cycle? At this point we are starting to think
about spending real money, so we are no longer treating this as a
pleasant little diversion for those with time on their hands. We
are now thinking
of artworks as commodities and the term “return on investment” will
soon crop up. I hesitate to use the phrase “bottom line”,
but that’s what it’s all about in the end.
My market? My clients? Are they astute? In an online sales context,
my market is for small paintings at affordable prices. Who are my
clients? To date they are people I know or who are local to me. Some
seek a
reminder
of happy travels; others have chosen local scenes to send to overseas
friends as gifts. Are they astute enough to buy on line? Clearly,
those who have bought were able to recognise scenes and were moved
to buy
something they could explain to others. I do generally provide some
detail about
each artwork and could potentially ‘blog about how I personally
relate to each scene, when I visited the location, and why the composition
appealed to me.
Who is my client? Let me answer this question in the context of a “numbers
game”. I only need one buyer per artwork, and there are a heck
of a lot of people on the Internet.
Who am I? Unlike the majority of “people” promoting ‘blogs
and art sites, I use my real name, show my real face, and include
details about my studio location and my curriculum vitae. No fancy
pseudonyms.
No cute usernames. The problem I see, as I have pointed out more
than once, is one of trust. If we are to do business online, do you
have
faith in my ability to deliver the goods as promised, in exchange
for a payment
over a secure channel? Or do you need to meet me in person? I get
the very strong impression that a majority of customers would prefer
the
latter.
24 X 7 promotion? Yep.
Terri
Lloyd’s imperceptibly flippant response (in italics)
I'm enjoying this exercise. I'm gonna get you to define your brand and
core message. And probably force you to be successful too. Are you ready?
You are not your brand. Like it or not, it ain't about you. Never was,
really.
Again, who are you and why should I care? What's so unique about you
and why should I invest my money in you?
Right now, from what you are saying, I really don't care. You're just
another guy painting pretty pictures and trying to hock them on the internet.
Yippee Skippy.
Give me something more, baby. You wanna date with my Paypal account?
You gotta get my attention. Tell me something that stops me in
my tracks and makes me say, "What's this?"
Why should I care about you? What about you is important to me? FYI:
My world isn't about you. My universe navigates around me. And it's gonna
take some serious clutter busting to get me to pay attention to you.
Tell me something good.... Wah wah...
Who am I?
Your potential customer. Get me to pay attention to you and eventually
I will invest in what you are selling. Don't run the same line as all
those other guys, please. Been there, done that, don't ever wanna go
back....
(Psst. You haven't clearly defined me yet.)
Branding and marketing isn't about you. It's about what's in it for me,
aka the client, and how you deliver on your promise to me.
It's also like dating. Right now, you're that guy sitting across from
me that's droning on and on about you, all about you, you, you. Oh wait,
my phone's vibrating. 'Scuse me while I read this text message....
Your brand is in the mind of the potential client. It's their perception
about you, your product, your experience with your customer, your promise.
It's gotta be unique. It's gotta be clear, concise and differentiate
you from everyone else. And it's gotta be relevant --to me.
And you gotta deliver. Or your client will change your brand on you.
Regardless of commodity. Regardless of numbers games. (Tactics over strategy
are noise before the fall --into mediocrity.)
You get the message right, and everyone can be your client --when they
are ready.
So, I'll ask this until I'm blue in the face:
Why should I care about small affordable art?
Where's the value in that?
Why should I care about your work over someone else's work?
Please elaborate. If you talk about size or money, I'm gonna get up and
leave the table.
What is it about your work that I should pay attention to?
Hint: It's not about the price or the size. No one gives a shit, really.
How will your product make my life better? I'm not joking.
Yeah, blah blah blah art is a useless object. But is it? If you think
what you do is useless, then I'm going to agree with you. Now, tell me
why it's not useless.
Markets are people. Not paintings. Who is that one person who buys your
work. What do they wear? What do they drive? Where do they work? What
do they watch on the telly at night? What sort of community do they live
in? Do they go to galleries or museums or sporting events? Do they drink
beer or wine? Or sparkling water? Are the straight, gay, married, kids
or not? Male? Female? (Two separate markets and languages between genders.)
Are they hipsters or serious investors? Or fans of Thomas Kincaid?
You have yet to define what you consider successes in your marketing
efforts. Hint: It ain't a warehouse full of paintings to be sold.
Start at the end. Work backwards. You sold a painting. To whom? How did
they learn about you? Define the steps back from the sale... all the
way to the beginning. How does one find you? Why would they be looking
for you? What if they aren't ready to buy right now? Then what?
Dai
Wynn’s Response with Terri Lloyd’s
comments inserted in italics
Thank you once again for a sizzling dissertation on marketing
art. I suspect somewhere that we’ve moved to a broader arena than online
selling, and that you have posed more questions than I have relevant
answers. For the purpose of this exercise, I will set aside the fact
that you don’t give a damn about me and my “pretty pictures” (insert
a maniacal grin here), and I will treat your views as general
comment.
They are exactly that. My motivation is to shift your thinking or position
in order to present other solutions or possibilities in this forbidden
conversation about selling art or anything else for that matter.
That you have written so much pithy advice on two consecutive
occasions to date underlines your disinterest (break out into
uncontrollable
laughter here), but
it is of inestimable value to all readers of this ‘blog, let alone your
correspondent. If my eyes start to glaze over, or if your ‘phone starts
to vibrate, make/take a call. You’re excused.
LOL! We're beginning to understand each other! : )
Given that your universe navigates around you, I am beginning to feel
attracted to a black hole, as distinct from being flung into a parallel
universe
where you don’t attract flotsam and jetsam like me. But I digress.
Likewise, must be that magnetism or gravitational pull toward the abyss.
If I start by going to the end of your treatise, then I can “start at the
end”. Pardon me if I briefly complicate matters by introducing a second
market type – portraits and big ones for big egos. The financial
rewards are big too, but I am not supposed to mention money at risk of
personal harm,
or at least verbal abuse.
My point here, is as with any marketing process, that the end be any success
or goal. Even on a smaller scale. Deconstruct the process of say getting the
work seen in a specific gallery. Or museum. Or a desired commission. It's merely
an exercise for you to examine the steps and possibilities of planning your strategy.
Perhaps even easier, Google an artist who has achieved something similar to your
goal, lofty or immediate. From the search you can easily see the path and timeline
this artist took.
Without mentioning names, we’re talking about senior figures in business
and the law. Perhaps it might be more pertinent to discuss the “life events” which
led to the decision to commission the portraits. It may be of little
importance to you, but to an artist a commission is the holy grail. The
downside is
that the client has a licence to meddle. Frustratingly so for the artist,
to the
point where one could argue that the rewards are earned three times over.
Commissions to me are a pain in the ass. Which is why I always spell it (terms)
out contractually. I've worked on public art projects and private commissions
and am setting out again to do some nonprofit art marketing this week. I set
the rules of engagement, let them know how much wiggle room they have with me,
remind them of what I'm brining to the proverbial table, how much access they
get --phone, email, working hours and so forth.
Of course, always achieved with the right amount of grace and tact to assuage
any ego, any size.
What this does is actually build confidence in the client or funding organization.
I even put in a clause called the Riot Act, which basically spells out that both
parties have the right to fire the other under specific circumstances, such as
either party not living up to mutual agreements. It's similar to a guarantee,
and it works.
So, we had an admission to the bench as a judge with black gown and magenta sash;
a graduation as Doctor of Philosophy with black bonnet, black gown and scarlet
hood; and a retirement as a chairman of an insurance council in smart suit, matching
tie and handkerchief. All are friends or recommended by friends. Not surprisingly,
all have big egos.
Ego management has to do with insecurity and believing one's own press. This
is merely a matter of providing outstanding customer service.
Friends recommended by friends, is word of mouth advertising. The best there
is. I applaud this. It's how I've done most of my business for years. That's
the day job thing, to be specific.
Returning to the small paintings, sales have been made to one of the parties
mentioned above; another to a partner of an artist; and others to people who
dropped in to the studio and about whom I know almost nothing, other than their
wish to offer the paintings as gifts to overseas friends. The latter clients
found me by searching the web, looking for paintings of local scenes by local
artists.
Excellent. Two prongs of marketing, producing two streams of income.
Remember your words here, they'll pay off: Looking for paintings of local scenes
by local artists.
Moi? What is unique about me? Where do I start and how long do we have?
I see a glimmer of light which suggests that my clients are interested
in artworks
from MY easel. Despite the fact that I had never met the car salesman
before handing over a fistful of cash for my new wheels, clients want
to know
my sock
size before purchasing a “pretty picture” – nay, look at a
pretty picture with an avowed intention to maybe acquiring it when I’m
dead.
BTW, I bought the particular car because it checked/ticked all the boxes
for me, not because I fell in love with the salesman (no, I’m not
gay), and I was not inundated by a tidal wave of choice.
Differentiation over uniqueness, is better. The car may have ticked all the boxes
for you, but what where those boxes? At some point the car or the product leaves
the realm of rational and moves to a more emotional needs context.
To cite Thomas Kincade (a phenomenon in the U.S. whose work only my great
auntie would adore), his brand is/was "Painter of light." He
is known for his paintings of fairy tale cottage scenes and warm light.
(www.thomaskincade.com <http://www.thomaskincade.com> )
Where I am confused is in the Branding Department. OK, I don’t associate
Nike with a Mr/Mrs/Miss Nike, or some guy called Nicholas (just call me “Nike”).
Daimler-Benz has spent more than 100 years building a brand which promotes luxurious,
desirable and reliable automobiles. (I have owned two and they break down just
like other brands). And you have been adamant that my brand is not my name. But,
I am seeing a whole lot of you, your, yours in the sentence dealing with branding.
Naïve I may be, but do people really analyse to this depth and complexity?
Surely every one of them is time-poor.
It's not about time poverty. It's about resonance, salience, the power of your
message.
Volvo = Safety. Rolls Royce = Elite Quiet Luxury. BMW = Style, Performance. Nike
and it's swoosh = Just do it. Coke = It's the real thing.
Your brand is not simply your name. It's more than just a name. It's what comes
to play in the mental theatre of your clients, potential clients and others who
will eventually be told about you and your work.
People are going to experience brand differently. You can't control that. What
you can do is help develop it. And you've got to approach this from a position
of differentiation, clarity, and often sensible design. The brand is an experience.
It's not a logo or word form, although these should point to, or identify in
an abstract way, the overall experience of what you offer. That Nike Swoosh for
instance, says a great deal to those who find Nike relevant. What do you see
when you think of it? What are you feeling without over thinking it?
The key is to be clear about your message. Doesn't have to be too clever. "Just
do it" is rather succinct. But it's clear in the context of shoes
and sports.
We have talked about how I am unique. Equally we could talk about how
6 billion others on this planet are unique. Unfortunately, we cannot
qualify
the word “unique” because
it is absolute. That is, uniquer and uniquest have yet to be universally adopted.
Can I categorise all these closet clients to such an extent that I can market
my pretty pictures to each and every one’s individual needs? Don’t
think so.
Again, differentiate. It's not about individual
needs per se. It's about creating a "why you, dear client, need to collect this work." We all have similar
needs. The reason the über brands work so very well is that they
are designed to appeal to various universal needs. One of which is to
belong.
My son tells me he has friends who buy “stuff” from a chain
of media stores (CDs, DVDs, TVs, sound systems, etc.) on a regular basis.
In
fact, they
love to frequent these stores just to browse. He assures me that they
always make purchases. Did they go to the store for a specific item?
Not necessarily.
Does my son buy there? No. He prefers immediate gratification via Bit
Torrent for his movies.
Your son may be a different type of customer than his friends. There are different
customer modalities. Some are transactional (price point alone), some are switchable
(not ready to buy, but if you speak to them long enough with the right message,
they'll eventually buy), and some are non-switchable (no matter what you say,
they aren't going to buy).
So, let’s return to the topic of online selling. Why would anyone want
to own an artwork painted by me? It’s unique, unlike a showroom full of
Mercedes-Benz motorcars. It might remind a viewer of a pleasant holiday in, for
example, Bellagio, Lombardy, Italy, in which case it could replace a holiday
snap on the dining-room buffet. Perhaps the client has done the sums and has
concluded that a couple of hundred bucks is cheaper than actually travelling
to Bellagio. There’s probably a story behind the artwork which is embellished
in the telling at each subsequent cocktail party. It’s an original
oil-painting so there may be bragging rights as a bonus. Could I hesitantly
add that composition,
colours, brushstrokes and texture might also be appreciated by the new
owner?
Now we're making headway.
Here's another of your statements worthy of remembering:
It might remind a viewer of a pleasant holiday... replacing a holiday snap on
the dinning room buffet.... cheaper than perhaps traveling to Bellagio...
Develop this.
Other than that, it’s just a pretty picture knocked up by some
dude DownUnder. It could easily have been produced with loving care by
a Chinese
painting factory.
This is good, too. A great selling point. Not produced with loving care by some
Chinese painting factory. Okay, I think you get the point.
I’m not sure that I agree that art is useless. However, a vast majority
of the world’s citizens live successful lives without buying original
art, but societies spend truck-loads of money on public galleries which
these kind
folks visit on a regular basis. I would like to think that some few of
their number would actually like to savour an original work hanging over
their
breakfast tables.
Good. Prove it with your message. Because your clients want to know why it's
not useless. ; )
Finally, success could well be defined as finding happy homes for my artworks
(outside of my studio or that giant anonymous warehouse) and imagining subtle
smiles on the faces of the new owners as they silently refine the story of how
they came to acquire these absolutely unique investments. I will feel warm and
fuzzy, just like Warren Buffet and Bill Gates, knowing that I have changed the
world for good.
Ah yes, the warm jets of capitalism bubbling around one's arse in the hot tub
of hob snobbery. Pass the champers would you? My glass is half full.
Let's define successes for individual advertising and marketing objectives.
Examples:
Your sign up button on the web for your regular blog posts and newsletters. What
would be a success there?
Your newsletter via email. What would be a success there?
Your web traffic. What would be a success there? (sign up for something, a purchase,
a referral...)
How about testimonials?
But I must return to painting on the off chance that a random buyer discovers
me this afternoon and………..OMG…….wants an artwork………one
that I painted……….to hang on the back of his/her privy.
LOL! Absolutely everyone must have a happy pastoral for the back of the privy.
And don't forget the loo top (formerly the coffee table) book of your work. And
thus, we've just added another income stream to your plan.
RETURN TO TOP
“HOW
LONG DID THAT TAKE YOU TO DO?”
How often have you been asked the question, “How long did that
painting, sculpture, piece of jewellery, mixed media, etc. take to do?” I
never know how to answer that query, mainly because I do not know why
the question is being asked. However, I do have many theories.
With a nod to all those non-painters in our midst, is it that the questioner
wants to understand how you arrived at the price you are asking for
what is essentially a piece of cotton canvas with some coloured marks
on it?
Most working people understand the cost of labour in a rudimentary
way. A teenager in high school may earn a few dollars per hour flipping
hamburgers,
while a senior counsel [legal] barrister might earn several thousand
dollars per day. The difference being knowledge, experience and amounts
of money at stake when decisions are made. But an artist is difficult
to pin down.
If the question is “how many dollars per hour do you charge for
your work?” then we have an interesting set of issues. The recent
world record price of US$106.5 million for a Pablo Picasso which reputedly
took him all of a day (let’s say 8 hours) to execute, and the Mark
Rothko red painting sold at US$31 million, are interesting examples where
price and effort are disassociated in the public perception. 99% of all
the world’s artists would be extremely embarrassed to learn that,
should they sell something, their time – including marketing – rewarded
them at a few cents per hour.
If there is a genuine interest in the effort required to complete the
work in terms of selection of subject, a lot of photography, preliminary
sketches, preparation of canvas, number of brush strokes, rubbing back,
wet-on-wet, wet-on-dry, and finally framing issues, then the question
is difficult but not beyond an answer. Nevertheless, the response may
still be an estimate, since I have returned to work on paintings after
many years. I argue that, so long as a painting is still in the studio,
it remains a work in progress.
Then there are factors involved which are beyond monetary value. Passion
is one such factor. Apart from artists, I suppose there are people
whose income is derived from a job about which they are passionate.
I would
argue that they are in a minority.
The pleasure in creating something of beauty is another imponderable.
Other interpretations of the question are more personal. If one artist
compares his work with another’s, he might conclude that he could
have created something similar in half the time. I know that, since I
have been putting more time and effort into painting, I can produce more
works of better quality in less time. This is simply stating the obvious, “The
more you do something, the better you become”. An athlete trains
more to run faster. So this might be a subtle way of gauging just how
good an artist has become, and potentially estimating how long he/she
has been creating art. It may also be a pointer to where the artist might
be in five years’ time.
It may simply be shorthand for saying, “Look I know nothing about
art, but I do appreciate that you have created something beautiful here.
Since I do not have the words to critique your work of art, and I would
like to learn a bit more about the process of creating it, perhaps I
should start the conversation by posing the oft-asked question, ‘How
long did that take you to do?’ “
RETURN TO TOP
THE ANCHORING EFFECT
The
recent sale of a large Picasso painting, reputedly the result of
one day’s hard slog
by Pablo, has some interesting lessons for the contemporary art
world. The 1932 work, Nu au Plateau de Sculpteur
(Nude, Green Leaves and Bust), sold in New York for $US106.5 million
(A$116.2 million). This is somewhat in excess of the $A88.2 million
sum total of fine art sold at auction in Australia last year.
When I responded to Jenn Allen’s tweet announcing these telephone
number sale proceeds, asking whether this obscene price had any relevance
to living, tweeting artists, she confidently replied that “there
is a definite trickle-down effect in buyer’s minds – e.g.
the ‘anchoring effect’.”
The “anchoring effect”? A Google search offered me an article
in The Skeptic’s Dictionary by Robert T Carroll. He states that “most
important human judgements are made under conditions of uncertainty.
We use heuristics, or rules of thumb, to guide us in such instances
as we try to determine what belief or action has the highest probability
of being the correct one in a given situation. These rules of thumb
are
often instinctive and irrational.”
“
One of these heuristics is the anchoring heuristic. Our judgement regarding
frequency, probability, or value of items is often determined by comparing
them to an anchor point.” For example, a clothing retailer
will often have several prices on the sale tag, with the higher amounts
crossed out. Buyers will think they are getting a bargain if they
accept
the
highest (still legible) price as an anchor, but pay the lowest price.
Carroll also states that the anchoring effect can lead to grossly erroneous
conclusions when a handful of characteristics is used to fit a stereotype.
He uses the example of a quiet, shy, reserved and self-effacing man,
and asks whether this person is a salesman or a brain surgeon. The majority
of us would lump all salesman into the outgoing, gregarious, loquacious
stereotype. However, in a given population, statistics would suggest
that the probability is greater for our quiet, reserved subject to be
a salesman, given their superior numbers.
What is the relevance of the Picasso sale to all struggling artists?
Thanks to Pablo and the kind buyer who stumped up US$106.5 million, we
now have a new, shiny and well-publicised anchor point in the world of
fine art. So, when potential buyers see my works in my next exhibition,
it is my fervent hope that my modest price tags will be favourably compared
with US$106.5 million, A$116.2 million, or any dollar amount with nine
digits.
RETURN TO TOP
PLAGIARISM
OR MERELY COPYING?
The visual arts sections of Australian newspapers have been abuzz
recently on the topic of blatant plagiarism. Sam Leach took out
the Wynne Prize
for landscape painting – the country’s most prestigious
prize for a painting of an Australian landscape and worth $25,000.
(Simultaneously, he was awarded the Archibald Prize for portraiture,
worth $50,000).
His relatively small landscape painting was done in the style of
17th century Dutch masters and obviously piqued the interest of
someone in
the art world. Within days, the front pages of national newspapers
were shouting “Genius or Copycat?” above a photograph of Adam
Pynacker’s 1668 work “Boatmen Moored on a Lake Shore” alongside
Sam Leach’s winning landscape “Proposal for a Landscaped
Cosmos”. The compositions are identical, even to the twigs
and leaves on the tree by the lake-shore. Leach has omitted the boatmen
figures from the foreground and has added a few minor cosmetic details
which
are not visible in newsprint.
A vast number of column centimetres have been written under the headings
of plagiarism, genius or copycat, but essentially the issues are
twofold:
1. The Wynne Prize is awarded for an Australian landscape and Pynacker’s
is an idealised Italian landscape (there are few hills in The Netherlands);
2. Leach has failed to reference Pynacker, either in the title or
in any other form of acknowledgement.
Many art critics and academics have argued that, had Leach submitted
his work for academic assessment without attribution, he would have
been accused of plagiarism. Others would say that any number of famous
artists
over the years have “quoted” from the masters of old, and
have looked to the classics for ideas on composition. Furthermore, one
or two have suggested that, when working within a tradition – such
as the style of 17th century Dutch masters -- direct attribution
is pedantry, given that the pastiche is self-evident. The trouble
with
that line of
argument is that the general public is less well-informed, and tends
to view the world in binary terms.
Sam Leach claims he knows exactly what he is doing and has no regrets.
Being front-page news over three or four weeks cannot be a bad thing,
but I suspect he has made a few enemies in the process. While the
art world is filled with renegades, there are many conservative critics
and
academics in positions of authority who believe in observance of
the spirit of the Wynne Prize and its requirement that the landscape
be Australian.
On the one hand, Melbourne’s The Age newspaper art critic Robert
Nelson sees no requirement for Leach to reference Pynacker given that
the attribution is self-evident; on the other hand, he has seen too
much pastiche over the years and thinks that it is “artistic
suicide”. He believes that almost every example of comparison
of the original with the pastiche has been to the detriment of the
emulation.
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A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY FOREVER
A THING of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep……
Endymion, Book I, John Keats (31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I was privileged to see the film “Bright Star” yesterday
with my wife. “Bright Star” are the opening words of a poem
written for Fanny Brawne whose intense love affair with the Romantic
Poet John Keats came to a climax in early 1821 at his death in Rome of
consumption (tuberculosis) at the age of 25.
I marvel at the beauty of Keats’ poetry, written at such an early
age by today’s standards. His skilful use of the English language
to “paint” complex ideas, intense emotions, flights of imagination
and colourful dreams is sheer “loveliness” and “a joy
forever”. To have achieved such a prodigious output in such a short
life was remarkable, especially in the straitened circumstances he found
himself in rural England, and the limited opportunity to travel and to
experience the world around him.
While I am not a fan of period or “costume” dramas, many
scenes in this movie brought me to tears. The passionate commitment of
Keats to his poetry, despite his impecunious circumstances, resonated
with my approach to visual art. I realise that this sounds a little pretentious,
to compare myself with a giant such as John Keats, but the eternal struggle
to elevate one’s artistic endeavours over the mundane pursuit of
financial independence is never ending. For John Keats, his inability
to support a healthy body led to his early demise, while his cerebral
triumphs emphasised aspects of life, love and death in the early nineteenth
century, immortalised in his poetry.
Isn’t this what art is all about? A struggle to express complex
ideas in visual form? Although much of the world’s art exudes angst
and shouts about the inequities of life, I prefer to create beauty and
loveliness. Just as the poetry of Keats is a joy two centuries after
its creator’s demise, I should like to think that some of my creations
will be “a joy for ever”.
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TO TOP
VIRAL MARKETING
A well-respected, high-powered, and hopefully successful online marketing
expert recently welcomed me to the “Wonderful World of ‘Viral’”.
My computer-based Encarta World English Dictionary defines viral as
an adjective “relating to, typical of, or caused by a virus”.
So, rather than pursuing the definition of “virus”, let’s
just say that “viruses are infectious”, and that viruses
spread from person to person frighteningly quickly.
In an online world, I am told that there are three aspects to “viral”:
1. The most commonly used search engine, Google, attributes a higher
ranking to a site with a larger number of links (e.g. from a blog
to a website);
2. People stumble across references to your content, then navigate
to your website;
3. Visitors referring your content to others by posting links to your
website.
On
every page of my website I suggest to readers that they subscribe to
my free weekly eNewsletter “The paint is still wet” by filling out a subscription
or registration form. All I require is a name (so that I can personalise the
email) and an email address. In theory, this should automatically build up a
database of people who willingly elect to receive an image and description of
my latest painting, as distinct from friends and relations who politely endure
my weekly mailbox intrusion. I repeat, “This is how it works in theory” and,
as such, should be a great example of “viral”.
Similarly,
my use of Twitter to tweet my painting activities perhaps twice a day,
should also contribute to viral activity. A Twitter logo
adorns
each of
the pages of my website with links to my Twitter Home Page. In theory,
my tweets can be retweeted by my followers and end up who knows where,
and the
links
inside my tweets should direct traffic back to my website. A quick
Google search of “Dai
Wynn” reveals just how far some of my tweets have travelled.
Both
of these examples work in a technical sense, but recall how I used
the phrase “frighteningly
quickly” above. It seems to me that both processes need “seeding” with
properly qualified people – i.e. people interested in my artworks,
as distinct from the numerous and ubiquitous spammers – for
these online virals to work efficiently. It may therefore require
me to actively
seek reciprocal
Twitter
relationships with other artists and art lovers, and to use other
channels such as articles in the print media.
Finally,
as my online viral mentor blithely points out, and every artist agonises
over, this all assumes that your content or offering
is of
a sufficiently high
standard. Furthermore, online viral merely leads people to view
your online shop-front. As the old adage would have it, “You can lead a horse to water, but you
cannot make it drink”. I would add to this discussion by asking, “How
many thirsty horses must I lead to the trough before one deigns
to sip the sweet water?”
RETURN
TO TOP
WHAT IS ART?
I
have a mouse-mat from Artnet.com which reminds me that "Art is
Everywhere". That simple phrase -- actually it's a clause containing
a verb -- suggests that art isn't confined to the walls of galleries,
on lawns of sculpture parks, in artists' studios or on the walls of
rich peoples' houses. It's everywhere. It's in the eye of the beholder.
It's
what an artist wants you to see. It's often overlooked by those who
are not appropriately attuned, and it may be so humble that it blends
into
the everyday tedium.
Does the fact that "Art is Everywhere" imply that "Artists
are Everywhere" or that everyone is an artist?
I am a keen follower of the British "artist" Damien Hirst who
is well-known for his sharks-in-vitrine and diamond encrusted human skull,
among other bizarre creations. Clearly, Damien Hirst has progressed to
the stage in his career where he conceives, and a team of artisans realises
his concepts. That makes Damien no less of an artist than had he left
his fingerprints all over the artworks.
This is no different from Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni
or Leonardo da Vinci who directed teams of apprentices to complete
their magna opi, while never diminishing their own capabilities to
create new
artworks. It is only a handful of art historians completing a PhD
who boldly assert that a famous work of Leonardo, or Michelangelo
was essentially
that of his student who may or may not be named. The rest of us are
content to associate the master with the work, and leave it at that.
Norman Foster's name is associated with a huge number of iconic buildings
around the world. He certainly did not conceive, design, engineer
and project manage his fabulous creations single-handedly. Ditto
I.M. Pei.
I am sure that no rational person would claim that he/she could
have done just as well as Norman Foster (and his team of hundreds).
But many pundits have said of the creations of Damien Hirst, "I
could have done that". Damien's reply was and always is, "But
you didn't, did you?" The point being that, in a majority of instances,
Damien's "artworks" are constructed of commonly available materials,
and endowed with fanciful names. An example is Damien's "Beautiful
Aurora" spin painting, currently at auction and expecting to fetch
$350,000, a 48 inch X 48 inch work using "household paint".
At 44 years of age, Damien is a member of the Young British Artists
and reputed to be the richest living artist to date. I have
seen a number
like 250 million pounds attributed to him.
Here we have a dramatic instance of an "artist" making his
mark on the artworld, not through an innate ability to draw, but through
a studied, no-holds-barred, campaign of shock tactics to draw attention
to himself. In short, the name "Damien Hirst" -- and therefore
the signature -- commands a gigantic premium as a result of publicity
of inestimable value.
So, in order to make the big time in "art", do I need to be
a competent draftsman or an entrepreneur-sans-frontieres?
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TO TOP
CHICKEN ENTRAILS AND INNUENDO
Many readers will be familiar with the Rorscharch Test in which an
ink blot on a folded sheet of paper is “interpreted” by a psychologist’s
patient. What a subject perceives in a random splodge may well be a
factor in the determination of his/her mental health management for
evermore.
Scary, isn’t it?
Fellow artists, your activities and exposure on ArtId will make you
famous, and when you are, be warned that there are hordes of
psychology PhDs
out there who will treat your artistic creations as ink blots in
Rorscharch Tests. If you did not set out to create a deep and meaningful
visual
dialogue with your admirers, or if you innocently intended to portray
a scene of peace and tranquillity, then it may come as a shock
to you that academics with several diplomas in psychoanalysis
may be
about
to expose your every foible and frailty by merely analysing your
brush strokes.
I recall seeing a “Mythbusters” episode on television in
which the team tried to determine what an artist was saying when he spoke/sang
as he painted a picture. The theory is that the artist’s brush
becomes a stylus and engraves tracks in the paint, much as a needle engraves
a track in a vinyl record. As the artist paints, sound waves modulate
his hand and his brush, so creating a permanent audio recording in the
medium. I think that myth was well and truly busted, but the artist does
embed a huge amount of information in the image – intentionally
or otherwise. The problem is that it’s all open to interpretation.
It’s how well the art critic, gallery director, art curator copes
with the Rorscharch Test.
Yesterday’s blog talked about obfuscation in which learned persons
use computer-generated multi-syllabic words, subjunctive grammar and
rambling sentences to describe an artist’s intentions by analysing
the artwork itself. This lofty prose, together with the elegantly produced
catalogue, the artist’s beret and jabot, and the champagne and
canapés on the opening night, all work to create an air of rarefied
superiority, of exclusivity. The result, hopefully, is an elevation in
prices, and instant wealth and fame for the artist.
My humble interpretation of all this palaver is, “Dear Mortal-With-Disposable-Income,
thanks for attending the opening night; hope you enjoyed the drinks and
nibbles; I realise that you haven’t a clue about art, but take
it from me (an immortal icon of the art world) that this emerging artist
will be worth a truckload in ten years; I understand it offends the eyes
and doesn’t match the décor, but……..; yes, we
take plastic!”
However, fellow artist, be warned that you may not always
agree with the exposure of your innermost secretive thoughts
by those
who know
more than you do about the mysterious machinations of the
mind. I’m
just hoping that, when I become famous (courtesy of ArtId) and the subject
of several learned articles and biographies, the writers’ words
will be kind and vaguely related to the sort of person I think I am.
I don’t think I could cope with the witchdoctor-chicken-entrails
scenario as directly applied to my artistic creations.
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TO TOP
OBFUSCATION
Obfuscate v, 1. vti to make something obscure or unclear,
especially by making it unnecessarily uncomplicated;
2. vt to make something
dark or hard to see (archaic); 3. vt to make somebody
confused.
I am wondering whether I should resort to obfuscation
when describing my art in order to become famous?
Clearly, painting
pretty pictures
which might blend with the wallpaper in somebody’s sitting room is not
going to get me into Sotheby’s auction rooms.
No, I need to develop a new way of speaking in the
language of “obfuscation”.
Art curators speak the language fluently. So, do architects. And, I suspect,
so do Martians, although I must admit I do not have first-hand evidence
of the latter.
Last week I saw a delightful exhibition of portraits
by a well-known Australian painter living in
Tuscany, Italy.
On
reading the
notes in the exhibition catalogue, I was mildly
amused by the authoritative
interpretation of the artist’s innermost thoughts regarding subject matter, composition,
choice of subject and progress from pencil sketch to oil sketch to trial
portrait to finished work.
Since the artist is very much alive in Tuscany,
the curator could have asked him why he painted
the portrait,
and
what if anything
the dots
and squiggles actually mean. However I didn’t get the impression
that there had been a recent conversation with the artist. On the one
hand, it may have been too banal. On the other hand, it may have been
unprintable – rife with unspeakable thoughts or politically incorrect
comments. Or, the artist may have forgotten with the passing of time.
Last night I watched (for a brief while) an
arts program on television. Dear Reader,
shut your
eyes and concentrate
on
a character sitting
on a stool on a paint spattered floor, with
the mandatory fedora hat, cigarette
and five-o’clock shadow, and talking nineteen to the dozen. He
is surrounded by “paintings” in dazzling primary colours,
whose subject matter may have been the result of a collision of Class
A drugs and alcohol. As I said, his lips were moving in a blur, and he
was speaking English primarily, but in the “obfuscation” dialect.
It was only last night, but I have no idea what he was saying.
Architects learn obfuscation at college.
There is no way that their creations are
going to
be pedestrian – unless they work for the government,
in which case boring is a mandatory requirement. How else does an architect
describe his 45-story, all-glass, leaning tower addition to a single
story heritage brick residence but “sympathetically blending in
with the amenity of the historic precinct”?
What would I say should the impossible
happen and an art curator choose to write
about
my work or,
worse
still, want me to star
in an obscure
television program? I think I need to
learn “obfuscation” language
as an element in the process of elevating my artistic endeavours to somewhere
above the humdrum. It’s the struggle of working in the rarefied
atmosphere alongside those souls anointed with the creativity and passionate
spirit which so emasculates me and diminishes my effectiveness to a mere
shadow of its former self.
Yes dear reader, my artwork – should you stoop to demean it as
merely “artwork” – is a juxtaposition of the ethereal
with the visceral and the philosophical with the metaphysical. It certainly
is NOT a colourful matrix of splodges which through some random act of
good fortune represent an image with a basis in reality.
Oh, should you be unable to spell “obfuscation”, let alone
pronounce it, you could always use the acronym “BS”.
RETURN TO TOP
SMILE – YOU’RE
ON CANDID CANVAS!
Interestingly, while there are quite a few animal portraits featured
on art websites, portraits of people are quite uncommon. Why is this
so?
Is it because a portrait is only of interest to the sitter and her
immediate circle of friends? Cannot a well-executed portrait stand
alone as a fine
example of composition, brushwork, colour harmony and depth? A few
weeks ago, I travelled to Australia’s capital Canberra to view the Edgar
Degas exhibition at the National Gallery. As the exhibits evolved in
chronological order, one could see recognisable portraits of captains
of industry in earlier days and more abstract portraits of washerwomen,
laundresses and ironing women in later years. Clearly Degas did not intend
viewers to instantly recognise his subjects who were doing the most mundane
of tasks. Likewise, I don’t believe he was interested in painting
particular jockeys (or specific horses for that matter) in his beautiful
horse racing studies. However, his subjects – be they ballerinas,
jockeys, race-goers or simple laundresses – are beautifully painted
and are crucial elements of his depiction of his time in history.
I am passionate about painting landscapes, but not just any landscape.
I suppose one could accuse me of doing “feel good” compositions.
Autumn scenes, sunsets, quite streams in bush settings, placid lakes,
snow covered mountains and verdant forests. It’s an indulgence.
I am very pleased when a painting turns out well. Most people would give
their right arm to be able to spend a majority of their waking hours
doing something pleasant.
But, for reasons which still elude me, most people will generally
not pay you to do something pleasant. I have made an assumption
that a
majority of artists would welcome that final endorsement where
a statement of
appreciation is followed closely by a cheque in payment for a
purchase.
There is, however, an exception. Portrait painting. Being able
to capture the essence of a personality in paint on canvas
can be richly
rewarding
in all senses of the word. Australia’s richest art prize ($150,000)
and Australia’s most recognisable art prize are both for portraiture.
I am currently working on five portraits. One is for a retiring “captain-of-industry” and
it will be presented to him (he already has at least one gold Rolex)
at an exclusive gentlemen’s club in the presence of a large gathering
of influential colleagues in a couple of months’ time. Another
is of a friend in his PhD regalia. This is a second portrait – the
first portrayed him as too imperious. Given that this was the way he
sat for the portrait, I have decided to keep it and to start another,
more friendly and less imposing depiction. Yet another portrait will
be entered in a national competition.
Since significant amounts of money are involved, the patron’s opinions
are not to be ignored. Which is not to say that a person commissioning
a portrait has a lot of ideas about how the portrait should be composed
before commencement. It’s just that the opinions tend to firm post
completion and prior to the opening of the chequebook. It goes without
saying that a decent likeness is a definite requirement, and that a friendly
accommodating pose is next on the list. An artist can forget a heroic
portrait, such as an El Greco or Velasquez, in which the main character
is astride his rearing charger or being skinned alive as a prelude to
matyrdom. Or even in today’s GFC, a bankster, caught at the euphoric
moment of greeting the Brinks van with his annual bonus payment. Rather,
the request is for something the patron could hang on the wall and walk
past each day without flinching.
Now, I realise that portraiture is a specialised area which
probably won’t involve school fetes, Rotary art shows, and online sales.
The amounts of remuneration involved will limit my client base to wealthier
subjects and, quite understandably, those with a slightly elevated sense
of self esteem. I am sure that not all patrons are convinced they are
photogenic (or is it “portraitagenic”?) even when I agree
to leave out the wrinkles and other indicators of character. Some would
say that it’s a huge ego-trip, but I am hoping that there will
always be someone who simply appreciates a good painting.
Yes, I do actually enjoy portraiture, although it is
certainly an order of magnitude more demanding than
landscape painting.
Understanding how much emotion is conveyed by the human
face, and to some extent
the hands,
is an ongoing journey for me.
As Michelangelo Buonarroti was heard to say, “Ancora imparo”.
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STILL LIFE OR "EN PLEIN AIR"?
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,...
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ART OR PORNOGRAPHY?
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.
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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.
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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.
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ASPENDALE
BEACH @ MPRG
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?
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POSITANO
IS ALMOST EDIBLE
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!
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ART IS SIMPLY PR
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.
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THE
PULL-THROUGH EFFECT
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).
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CREATING
FAME
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?
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THE
AUSTRALIAN GENRE
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.
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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.
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QUANTITY
OR QUALITY
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).
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