Here’s a recent work made by Julius Popp, a German artist:

And here’s a commercial product present since 1989:

Classic questions:
How much of the value is the originality of the project?
How much is there left for the concept? The execution? The richness of the universe that is being created? The “art codes”?
The bluff?
Should one stop/diverge a project upon realizing one is following another’s path too closely?
This latter question is quite recurrent among many of the artists I know. Some opt for stopping, while others simply don’t let go of their toy. After all, they say, isn’t it always mine in the first place? Unintentional plagiarism? So what? If you focus on what you are, on your own path, shouldn’t it always lead to an original work? In the best of possible worlds?

a comparison of Karol Radziszewski’s To Pee In a Bun and Nicolas Grospierre’s Kunstkamera

The two recently* opened exhibitions at the main two contemporary art centers in Warsaw – Zach?ta and the Contemporary Art Center – have some clear similarities.

Above all, they both left me confused. I couldn’t quite decide when I was with them, and when I was on the outside, merely thinking about them. The heritage of conceptual art makes this game ever-more difficult to cope with, to shake off. Just as after the Vienna Circle the thinking about language makes it difficult to think about what we want to think about, so experiencing art without going through (and often getting stuck in) discourse often seems a challenge, if not simply impossible.

Both exhibitions are witty, explicit dialogues with art history. They both play on the distance that separates contemporary art conventions from what has been somewhat recklessly left behind. Radziszewski exhibits works hidden in the depths of the national gallery’s archives. Some are excruciating to look at, others are curious discoveries or brilliant works. Grospierre goes back to the format of the Kunstkammer and does what he does best – plays with it.

They both focus on the structure of an exhibition, and make it an essential aspect, a sort of a meta-work which goes far beyond the classical idea of curator and uses the ambiguity of this function to the utmost. It is impossible to say where the curator’s role stops and the artist’s begins. This goes far beyond the inclusion of the curator’s own works in the exhibition, or his manipulation of the showing. We never know when the appreciation of the shown works is genuine, and when it is ironic. And because of the artists’ works being part of the selection, the self-irony is, as always, disarming. Each artist enacts the role of contemporary art trickster in a different way.

However, it was the differences between the two exhibitions that struck me most. Beyond questions of scale, budget and context of production, the two exhibitions are at two opposite sides of an old aesthetic debate. They present two different approaches to the question of value in aesthetics. But first, let me give you a brief description of each of the exhibitions.

Karol Radziszewski’s exhibition To Pee in a Bun, is grandiose. It is a personal take on the collection of Poland’s most renowned and respected public gallery of Modern Art (charmingly called The Encouragement for Fine Art).
In it, he acts “merely” as curator, and also as one of the numerous exhibited artists. Here is what the curator had to say in a conversation with himself as artist :

C: Curators are the ones who make the artists conscious of
‘what’ they have created and ‘why’; often, they also manipulate the
works being displayed, creating their own narratives from pre-existing
works, at the same time disregarding their previous context.
A: Like you did in this exhibition?
C: Yes. (laughs)
A: Why?
C: I treat other artists’ works as elements of a larger whole, like
tubes of paint, from which I have to squeeze out colours in order
to paint one complex painting.
A: That’s a very colourful metaphor . . .
C: Thank you.

We could say that Nicolas Grospierre creates a similar procedure of remixing curator and artist when in the Kunstkamera installation, (which is the size of one of the smaller rooms in Radziszewski’s exhibition), he hangs mainly pictures of objects and photos created by other people, and signs the whole as his piece.
Yet the vectors, here, point elsewhere. Instead of spreading the works and opening, if not exploding, them, he seems to move inwards, closing the space and folding it yet again. Upon entering the “room”, we discover a game of images reproducing images reproducing the same space with other images. The game goes on, like a play with mirrors, ad infinitum. The “meaning” is still ambiguous – yet it concentrates, thickens, moves toward inhabiting the space instead of abandoning it.

So what does all of this have to do with philosophical debates?

In an article published in 1936, Stanis?aw Ossowski, one of Poland’s most notable thinkers from the famous Lvov-Warsaw school of thought, argued against aesthetics understood as the “construction of value systems”. The generalizing of arbitrary aesthetic feelings and opinions to the level of theory should, in his opinion, give way to a sociological perspective on art and the aesthetic, one which would embrace the richness of opinions and points of view instead of imposing them.
This bold proposal was answered the same year by another great mind, Henryk Elzenberg, who argued that no matter how weak and prone to error, our aesthetic judgments remain anchored in value systems that can and should be discussed – as we cannot speak of aesthetics without referring to value, and values are open to discussion.

To put it bluntly: in Radziszewski’s exhibition I see Ossowski’s distancing from aesthetics as a system of values, while Grospierre’s installation follows Elzenberg’s ideals.

These are really two different ways of approaching the world.

Ossowski claims that any discussion about aesthetic values comes down to a power struggle. And this overpowering does not go through a sharing of enthusiasm or disgust, but goes through the attribution of value. Why? Elzenberg explains:

Apparently [the value-based aestheticist] lacks qualifications: he does not have the authority, or the suggestive strength, or the capacity to contaminate others with his feeling. And he is overfilled with the will to rule. Thus, he tries to convince the victim that if this victim feels the same things he does, the victim will be right, he will be somehow objectively correct; and he will be wrong if he dares otherwise.

Hence the need for distance.
It seems Radziszewski claims it on every single step. On one hand, his collection is a moving away from an engaged position, it is rather a questioning of our aesthetic values, of their ever-astounding relativity and apparent insignificance. Who are we to say that this is pretty, and this isn’t? How are we to judge the works that a mere 30 years ago were judged outstanding, while today they’re hidden away in a museum cellar?

On the other hand though, Radziszewski’s approach differs from Ossowski’s philosophy in one respect: being an artist, and not a social scientist, he does not feel the need to eradicate the position of power. To the contrary, he exposes it by exploring it to the fullest. Why bring a porn film into the gallery? Because it’s shocking, and attracts audiences. The aestheticist’s position allows him to create values arbitrarily:

A: You’re a curator — does that mean power?
C: Absolute power! (laughs)
A: Most people believe curators are unfulfilled artists.
C: I think that does hold true for me. Besides, to quote Krasi?ski
yet again, ‘Art is too serious a business to be left in artists’ hands.’

Grospierre is at a very different point. He does not feel the necessity to question everything – art history has done it sufficiently. Instead, he looks for ways of exploring the place of art today while not undoing it all yet again. Romantic? Certainly. It is a self-ironic romanticism, one that takes great effort in presenting itself as distanced and eye-winking. No wonder Grospierre cites Italo Calvino and Borges: this is the romantic universe that leads the battle for saving beauty. It is not, however, an intuitive aesthetic experience kind of beauty. The Kunstkamera is all about unending layers of initiation. It is a dive into the possibility of image, the possibility of the reflection of things, of some sort of hidden and evolving harmony between the object and the subject.

It reminds one of Heidegger’s conception of art as a window to some other realm we can in no other way describe. Here, this realm always crosses first an image of the reality we know – and so, we never know if this is the level of work-of-art, or it is only a description thereof. Fittingly, the exhibition flyer (a photocopy with clear photocopy marks) explains it all, and more. It seems to impose its vision of the work before we even get to see it.
Take, for instance, the “Trophies” section.

Trophies represent four dog muzzles, belonging to the commonest of mongrels. Bolek, Majka, Eryk and Gucio are four doggies among thousands. In the old Wunderkammer we would find extraordinary or unique natural objects: the horn of a unicorn, huge crystals, stuffed reptiles and other monstrosities. The idea was to show nature in the most surprising forms. Today the world seems devoid of the mysteries and much simpler than in the sixteenth century: the monsters disappeared from biology books. Might it be that the world is less poetic, more prosaic? I don’t think so. Even if science discovered many of nature’s secrets, for me poetry and mystery are still present in nature – we can find them in the most common species, such as house dogs.

The two positions can be called “metaphisical” and “positivist”. Elzenberg’s metaphisicist is

quite aware that there are hundreds of traps on his way; that his individual chances of error are bigger than his chances of winning; he feels that his results are to the highest degree uncertain, endangered by others’ critique and by his own. He feels the constant risk. Yet this risk is also his joy, since, as a psychological type, he has in him – and indeed needs to have – a little bit of a man of adventure and his attitude towards the “positivist” is somewhat like the attitude of a sailor that knows he can drown, towards the landlubber, who has no such fiercely unpleasant risk awaiting. It gives him a sort of satisfaction, but that is not what decides about his behavior in terms of acquiring knowledge; the decisive factor is that he does not want to drown. And that is why he is first and foremost careful. The “Metaphisicist” – or rather, to put it in more serious terms, the valuing aestheticist – knows well that his subject is unclear and unattainable and that what he discovers in it flees any adequate descriptions. Thus, although he is a sui generis racionalist to start off, it is nonetheless easy to discover a trait in him that is the contrary of a strict rationalism: the tendency to treat concepts and judgments as merely a type of highly uncertain symbols of a reality that resists human thought. Thus, he will not suggest that the chiaroscuro in which he sees the thing is full light, nor will he bond himself till death due him part with this or that linguistic formula or even this or that discursive elaboration of his intuition. He – yes he! – has something in him of the spirit of empiricism, as he understands his moving into the subject as a multiplicity of attempts and returns, as the entering in contact, as a progressive bonding with reality. Hence, he has the quality of being critical towards his own achievements, he consciously softens the edges of his statements, and is ready for changes and corrections, and, generally speaking, is moderate and more moderate even.

So do you believe in magic? In the aesthetic wonder of art, that keeps evolving beyond all expectations, that is in some strange way always related to beauty, and maintains some sort of objective common ground, some platform of shared values?
Or did the whole building of aesthetics collapse, leaving us in a void where any new creation of value is so easily ridiculed, art may at best be looked from a great distance, with an ironic, witty, sensitive yet unaffirming stance?

I must say I prefer Grospierre’s installation: it’s discursive and communicative, inquiring and playful, desperately searching for beauty, or maybe: aiming at beauty. This is a work of a believer. And although I’m not exactly a believer, I can repeat after one of my favorite characters, Samuel Hamilton: I don’t really believe in it save that it works.

*It took me some time to write this… and tomorrow is the last day of Kunstkamera! Hurry if you want to see it.

This year I finally relented and bought myself an iPod. It’s easily the best gadget I have ever bought and I really don’t know how I lived without one for 33 years! I love it because I can take my whole music collection anywhere, it shuts off the outside world while working in the studio, and when I’m at the PC I am always listening to podcasts and lectures.

The best podcasts haven’t necessarily been art podcasts either, they have been podcasts on the mind, nature, spirituality, and business. One podcast which I always look forward to listening to is All in the Mind by Natasha Mitchell.

In her latest episode (which can be downloaded Here, even if you hate music and don’t own an iPod yet) she talks about neuroesthetics and an exhibition at London’s Hayward gallery called Walking in My Mind.

Semir Zeki pioneered the field of neuroesthetics and says that scientists have a lot to learn from art, but artists have a lot less to learn from neuroscientists. And he says that we (artists) are mostly all neurologists in some sense.

It’s an interesting listen..

For those of us who live immersed in the digital world, which certainly includes you as an Absolute Arts blog reader, it is most likely nearly incomprehensible how a modern day artist, or businessperson of any sort, could not be partially, if not fully, connected in the social marketing world. Truly, these days most would think how can anyone serious about getting ahead not be wholly represented on “The Social Marketing Grid” with a Facebook page, Twitter and Linkedin accounts et cetera?

The reality is there are plenty of people with serious careers and serious career ambitions who have not and are not interested in joining the minions on the great social networking experiment that consumes so many others. Is it really possible to be successful or to grow a meaningful career without issuing a single tweet? The simple answer as always remains yes.

Here’s a last century example that remains germane to the argument today. For many years, I sold advertising and show space for Decor magazine and its sister Decor Expo tradeshows. Both served the art and picture framing industry. In the day, Decor’s annual Sources directory and Atlanta Decor Expo shows were huge successes on every level. Quite simply, anybody who was anyone in the decorative art and picture framing business would never consider not robustly participating in both. To do so would be career suicide by being obvious by one’s absence.

There is a direct correlation today between the implied “must participate” in those vehicles as there is in being fully active in the social networking arena. However, then just as now, there were artists and companies that chose not to go along with the crowd and consciously avoided participating in what seemed to all others to be an apparent choice.

Back then, much to my confounded consternation, there were artists and publishers I knew who were enjoying success that would be the envy of many of my regular advertising customers and show exhibitors, yet they were not spending money to promote themselves in the splendid and effective marketing vehicles I represented. It took a long time for me to realize that just because the evidence seemed to irrefutably prove participation in such activities paid results there would be those who would resist the opportunity.

So, despite my eloquent presentations and urgent pleas to not miss the ship about to sail, there were holdouts that steadfastly refused to be motivated. Their reasons were not always the same, but I think the primary reason is not unlike what you see today, which goes like this: “Yes, I can intellectually grasp there is opportunity in what is being offered. However, I’m doing just fine without the bother. And, despite the powerful lure those things have for many people, they have no interest for me.”

It was harder then for me to grasp their choices. Perhaps this was so because then I had a financial stake in persuading them. Being more involved and invested in their participation made me more passionate about my attempts to evangelize them into partaking. Today, with more maturity and less at stake, it’s easier to accept there are those who have no interest in getting a Facebook page and who are equally willing to suffer the consequences of not playing a part in the social networking revolution.

The question for artists today is can they have a successful career without having a Facebook page, a blog, a Twitter account and so forth? Despite what current proponents of these and other social marketing tools have to say, I believe it is completely possible. Admittedly, I am one of those proponents. You can find plenty of articles among the 200+ blog posts I’ve published on my Art Print Issues blog that encourage artists to get involved with these tools.

Despite what I think and promote regarding advancing an artist’s career, I deem it is possible for an artist to achieve notable success without having much more than a phone and an email address. While I think it makes the proposition of attaining success more difficult for most, I am convinced that it’s not impossible or even implausible to gain notoriety and perhaps even museum collectible attention without being a card carrying member of the social networking movement.

Of course, if the artist is not a willing participant, it still would be a great benefit if his or her benefactors, i.e., gallerists, reps, dealers and collectors promoted the work in online social spaces mentioned here. But, at the heart of it, a long running successful art career is built one brick at a time. And, that can be done in a variety of ways, not all related to the digital world. In fact, in spite of my cheerleading for Web 2.0 type involvement, I think it would be foolhardy for most artists today to focus exclusively on social marketing while ignoring traditional forms of marketing.

When I was repping Decor and Decor Expo, a regular question was, “How do I decide where to allocate my marketing dollars?” It remains a viable question today. My answer has not changed much. That is, decide what you perceive to offer the best return on investment and give it the biggest chunk. Then spread the rest available, within the realistic constraints of what an individual or small business can do with time, financial and personnel resources, among all the rest.

For artists to achieve success the goal, whether in the 21st Century or the last, remains the same: Seek to build a viable dealer/gallery/collector base to grow your business. Then nourish and replenish with vigor. Make it part of your business plan and every work day in some fashion. If you are fortunate to have someone working for you, make sure it is an even more important part of their working day. The slow steady pace of the turtle in the race is still the sure way to succeed in business. To do otherwise is foolish. For instance, hoping to become an overnight success is the equivalent of buying lottery tickets as a financial plan.

Adding a dealer or gallery here, finding a few collectors at a show there. Digging up media support with press releases and participation in charity and other notable events and sending direct mail can all be done without ever tweeting a word. An artist who has motivated quality reps on the road making old fashioned cold calling presentations still works. While advertising in consumer and trade magazines and tradeshows may not deliver the same impact as when I was in my heyday with such vehicles, they nevertheless offer opportunity for artists who effectively utilize them.

Although I offer an alternative perspective, I still encourage artists to join me on my Art Print Issues blog, to get a website and blog of their own, and to exchange tweets with me at www.twitter.com/barneydavey or to friend me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/barney.davey. I will fully understand if you choose not to engage in social marketing. Further, I will happily support you and may even be one who chooses to publicize you for the quality of your work and for achieving success while going your own way.

Barney Davey
www.artprintissues.com

Created by Barney Davey On 07/16/09 At 03:16 PM

Over the last three months, the CAPC contemporary art museum in Bordeaux has played host to the French artist Jean-Luc Blanc, organising a vast retrospective of his work.

Born in 1965 in Nice, Jean-Luc Blanc started his artistic career by drawing, gradually venturing towards painting. This picture-lover takes constant inspiration from the numerous media that our society puts forward, gleaning images from magazines, newspapers, postcards, and films. After a frenzied period of collecting and accumulation, several pictures ‘impose’ themselves to Jean-Luc Blanc, and he selects these to paint. Transferring a small picture to a larger-sized painting allows the artist to give a second life to the image – he says himself that photography is an execution, painting a resuscitation. Giving pictures selected from our everyday life a new purpose, cancelling their first meaning, bringing anonymity to stars, conferring new-found glory on John Does – this is Jean-Luc Blanc’s game. With this somewhat simple and repetitive technique, the artist masterfully allows the spectator to come across a new image, free of its past, and open to interpretation. Discovering Jean-Luc Blanc’s work allows us to come to terms with our own personal way of looking at art.

Along with over two hundred of his paintings and drawings, forty-five other artists have been brought together by Jean-Luc Blanc and the Parisian curator Alexis Vaillant to be part of this retrospective.
Indeed, when invited to create a retrospective of his work, Jean-Luc Blanc couldn’t conceive his canvasses without the production of other artists, contemporary or historical, that have influenced him throughout his career. Add to that antiques and anonymous objects, artworks from the municipal museums of Bordeaux, and you have a fully blown ‘Opera Rock’, an eclectic collection of the desires and inspirations of Jean-Luc Blanc, set out in thirteen rooms of the second floor gallery of the CAPC.
Along with sound effects orchestrated by Mr. Learn, and the phantom of the French writer Marguerite Duras hanging over the exhibition, the CAPC has successfully managed to give you the feeling of entering into Jean-Luc Blanc’s mind and understanding his approach as an artist, his world of imagination and creation. This 3D version of his brain is characterised by a diversity of techniques, a medley of generations and nationalities, and a multiplicity of truths.

Works by Michel Blazy, paintings by Dan Attoe, bestial sculptures by Laurent Le Deunff, and photographs by Diane Arbus dialogue with installations by Vidya Gastaldon, hand-crafted objects by Shannon Bool, shotgun paintings by William Burroughs, videos by Brice Dellsperger and lithography by Odilon Redon. All of these accompany the enigmatic paintings of Jean-Luc Blanc, communicating as if old friends.
Portraits face abstract oil paintings, delicate porcelain ornaments sit side by side with ancient mummy hands, wooden silhouettes talk to metal-wire spiders… Almost three hundred artworks share the space of this exhibition, an original and quasi extensive portrayal of the thoughts of Jean-Luc Blanc, a way to understand his art differently and to combine backstage (the inspiration of the artist) with the stage itself (his own production), symbolised here by the tall black screens (as if in a theatre) that accompany the visitor the further he ventures into the exhibition.

Let yourself be drawn into this artist’s space – you won’t be disappointed.

Jean-Luc Blanc, Opera Rock
From the 25th of March to the 14th of June 2009
CAPC musée d’art contemporain de Bordeaux, France

Created by Alice Cavender On 06/04/09 At 03:20 PM

One of the main areas for art galleries and activity in Dubai is the Al Quoz Industrial Zone. As the name suggests the area is grimy, dusty and mechanical, inhabited by warehouses, factories, storage depots and wholesale outlets. When rents were skyrocketing elsewhere in Dubai this area was still relatively cheap and the large and empty premises were ideal for conversion to gallery spaces so over the past five years or so a lot of galleries have set up here.

There are risks to living in an industrial zone and reports of warehouse fires are frequent. However a massive explosion and fire last year resulted in several casualties, 3 destroyed warehouses and a thick cloud of toxic smoke which hung over the whole city. Luckily none of the galleries were close enough to the site of the fire to be seriously affected and since then it seems that fire safety precautions have been improved.

This is the background to the current exhibition at Total Arts gallery that has to rate among the most memorable I have seen in Dubai during my two years here. Total Arts was founded by architect Darius Zandi and artist Shaqayeq Arabi and was the first gallery to set up in Al Quoz way back in 1996. After the fire Zandi and Arabi visited the burnt out warehouse and were so affected by what they saw they began a long process of transporting things from the site back to the gallery.

The result is Scraps, an installation composed entirely of materials, artefacts and incidental objects found at the site with site photos projected against two of the gallery walls. The scale of the installed pieces varies from huge warped sheets of corrugated metal suspended from ceilings and used to create artificial walls, to small and fragile fragments of paper or cloth.

Some pieces stand on plinths like highly original sculptures, most amazingly a collection of hundreds of pairs of metal scissors all melded together by the heat of the fire. A partially collapsed bicycle stands precariously upright surrounded by different piles of objects fused in plastic, metal and wood. There are melted tins, jars, knives, safety pins, toothbrushes, bicycle pumps, a cash register and many other everyday objects rendered almost unrecognisable by the furnace they emerged from.

Many of the smaller finds have been transformed by the artists into installations in their own right. One wall is covered with blackened food trays set with piles of melted forks and spoons and a metal sheet is covered with knife blades. A series of boxes contain a curious mix of objects, scraps of documents, textiles and electrical wires.

The exhibition is a unique and moving memorial to those who died. It is a wondrous and disturbing sensory experience crystallised by a soundtrack of muffled explosions and the all pervading odour of burnt metal, wood and plastic. It manages to address several different levels and aspects of its own particular local context as well as referencing wider points of aesthetics and art history – a dual achievement still very rare in exhibitions here.

Created by Valerie Grove On 05/22/09 At 10:08 AM

Two things that I have quickly noticed about the city of Melbourne is their love for AFL (Australian Football League) and their love for Melbourne artists. I passed thousands of supporters dressed in brown and yellow everything yesterday, so I’m glad I wasn’t wearing the colors of the opposing team. It’s not just guys that are fanatical about the sport, everyone seems to be. If I hang around Melbourne for much longer I might even go to a game to see what they’re all so excited about.

After reading a few reviews in local newspapers of the current John Brack exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria, it makes me think that they love their artists as much as their athletes. I can’t remember the exact words of one glowing review in a major newspaper but it called it a perfect exhibition and urged anyone with an Australian bone in their body to rush down and experience this art utopia.

I wouldn’t dare tell this to a Melbournite, but I wasn’t that impressed with the John Brack exhibition. He does have a few iconic pictures that depict a particilular time and place in Australia like Collins St, 5p.m. from 1955 (pictured), The Car from 1955, and The Bar from 1954.

After the 1950s I started to lose concentration. It was like he was trying to be something that he wasn’t, trying to be new like a lot of art being produced in America around the same time. I became a little more interested in the 1980s when he was painting pencils, but I eventually returned to the 1950s rooms to leave the exhibition on a high note.

The Battle – 1983 – John Brack uses pencils to depict French and British soldiers in the Battle of Waterloo

I was much more impressed by a room of Fred Williams paintings in the free section of the gallery. Here’s some work by Fred Williams online. Fred Williams is also from this area, so I probably wouldn’t be hung for admitting that I like him more.

Artists and galleries seem to be further apart than I thought. The recent art galleries and Internet post created comments that were anti artist or art gallery. A comment by “anonymous” on Starting an Art Gallery (who usually has something controversial to say) said this..

“..here is the KEY.. own your building… this proves your loyalty to art and separates yourself from the others.. so wonderful! then don’t listen to what artists have to say about them having to bear the burden of the costs.. 2 reasons… first. artists (especially abstract painters) are a dime a dozen. second.. it is an artists job to spend money on their lifestyle… so if you were a full time snowboarder, it would cost you equipment, lift tickets,gas to get there, lifestyle clothing, etc..so, being an artist costs, frames, paint, entry fees and The Burden of dealing with art gallery divas like myself.”

Ouch.. No wonder artists and art galleries don’t get along. I would hate to be an abstract artist exhibiting with this guy! I would quickly start painting cow turds and tell him it was important to you and that you’re confident the public will buy, buy, buy.. lol.

Also, the Australian artist Hazel Dooney replied to the recent Art Gallery and Internet post with the following to say..

“But the power of new media, combined with the accelerating decline of traditional galleries, especially in a drastically deteriorating global economy, is such that even the most persistent and grasping middlemen will lose their grip in the near future. While artists will flourish on the net, only a very few galleries are likely to adapt to it, let alone be able transfer offline success online.
As any geek – or record company – can tell you, the web works against any effort to exert control within it. ” Read her full post here.

It seems that artists and art galleries live on different planets. Personally, my dealings with art galleries have left a very bad taste in my mouth, so I decided to take a route that allowed me to forgo selling art, but still allow me to comfortably pay the bills. I now hate parting with paintings and I paint what I want, but I guess my storage will run out eventually

Below is a comment by gallery owner Carrie Horejs from an earlier post called Running an Art Gallery. She talks about some of the challenges that the Internet is creating for the old artist/art gallery relationship. She raises some interesting questions..

My husband and I have owned and operated Xanadu Gallery in Scottsdale, AZ, and online since 2001. In fact, we opened September, 10, 2001. The next day, with the horrific events of 9/11, we thought we were goners. Of course, the economy of then was nothing compared to the difficult times of today. However, our sales are up from last year by 40 percent (2008 being our worst year yet).

My point in writing this comment is to say we have noticed a dramatic shift since opening in 2001. Back then very few collectors thought to look on the Internet for art or artists. Now, it is second nature to go to google for everything, including researching artists. A collector walks through our doors, falls in love with the artist, goes home and Googles the artist and then commissions directly from the artist. I’m not saying this happens all the time, but several months ago we, by accident, found out about a $200,000 commission that went directly to the artist after the purchaser had discovered his artwork in our gallery. Rather than become bitter, we got smarter. Why shouldn’t the internet work for both artists and galleries.

Now, before we represent artists in our Scottsdale gallery, we require they join Xanadu Studios where they show their work online through our site. Every studio artist shows in our bricks-and-mortar gallery on a rotating basis, but only top-selling artists show on an on-going basis and get shows devoted to them. We’re not sure it’s a perfect system yet, but we’re evolving with the times. We’re requiring more from our artists who promote themselves through personal websites and blogs (which, is like all of them).

I often wonder how other galleries are dealing with artists who have gallery representation but continue to self-promote. I have been known to secret shop gallery represented artists. I contact them through their emails on their personal websites and inquire as to whether they have any studio pieces available. Not once has an artist directed me to his or her galleries for purchases. I fear galleries will dry up if they don’t smarten up. Then where will collectors go to see art in person?

Over at the Artopia blog is an interesting post on shit. I don’t know why it’s interesting to me and I probably should stop mentioning shit on this blog before I develop some kind of shit fetish. I just thought I should point it out as John Perreault has obviously spent some time thinking about the topic.

He focuses on the shit of Piero Manzoni, the Italian artist that is best remembered for his canned artist shit, but also mentions the shit of a few other artists like Andres Serrano and Paul McCarthy.

To be honest, I only know of Piero Manzoni because of his canned shit, but according to the post over at Artopia, the artist produced more work..

1. All-white paintings initially made of clay-soaked canvas.
2. Balloons containing the artist’s breath.
3. Living sculptures signed by the artist.
4. Pedestals for “living sculptures” — and one for the earth itself.
5. Very long lines inscribed on scrolls and sealed in tubes.
6. Most notorious and victorious, his very own canned shit.