Four Things Nobody Tells You about Buying Art

So, it's time once again for Saint Paul Art Crawl! As a participating artist, I talk to a ton of people during Crawl, and I notice that there's a short list of things basically nobody knows about buying original art. What follows are the Big Four:

 1. You can afford original art.

At my two shows this weekend, I will have originals ranging from $1500 to $20. I own several under-$100 pieces by other artists. Drawings, hand-pulled prints (if you're not sure, ask the artist if they're hand-printed or reproductions; see Item #2), small paintings, pieces of fine pottery -- there are plenty of options, and events like Art Crawl are a great way to see what's out there.

Art Crawl is the only time I create "on the spot" animal sketches, like this 8 x 10", for $20 to $40 (depending how long you ask me to spend on the piece). If you've never bought art before, this is a fun way to start, because you can watch the whole process.

2. Your questions are perfectly good questions. 

Somehow, people get the idea that there's a yardstick: YOU MUST BE THIS EDUCATED TO RIDE -- and most folks feel they don't measure up, so they leave their "dumb" questions unasked. Such a barrier, if it really existed, would result in a world full of sad, lonely artists who all had to find other jobs.

So what you want to know is super basic? It's okay. The level of art knowledge most artists expect from non-artists, is about the same as the level of chinchilla-breeding expertise we expect from ourselves (Sample question from artist to chinchilla breeder: "But how do you tell which one is the boy?").

 3. Artists (and many galleries) offer layaway. 

I am trying to remember if I've ever met a professional artist who would not happily arrange a layaway plan so that someone who loved their art could afford that piece they really wanted.

... nope, so far I don't believe I have. And I know that a lot of galleries will do the same. It's just good business sense. Asking about it falls under Item #2: perfectly good question.

4. We'll take commissions (as seen in yesterday's post, "I Didn't Know You Could DO That!")

As long as it's in our basic style and medium, most of us are glad to work with you if you need "Something like that, but in this other size" or "That kind of pot, but with a deep red glaze instead of the green that'll clash with my house," or whatever it is. It's also possible we already have exactly what you need, but it's at home, or there wasn't room to display it.

I hope this will put you a bit more at ease before Art Crawl, or that outdoor fair, or when you're standing in front of that little gallery and wondering whether to step inside.  There's plenty I didn't cover here, of course, so if there's something you're wondering ... remember Item #2.

~*~

Here's where and when to find me at Fall Art Crawl 2013. Please note that on Saturday I will be at My Kingdom for a Horse at Stillwater Art Guild Gallery from 4 to 9 -- an unavoidable overlap, so if you have an animal you want drawn that day, arrive right at noon! I'll be leaving for Stillwater at 3.

Hellooooo, Blue Moon!

 

Okay, the cat is unrelated (except that I like him), but I have news!

Back in mid-November I got a call from a marketing firm in Colorado, looking for artists to be part of a community campaign for Blue Moon Beer. This was exciting for many reasons, one of which is that Blue Moon has been a favorite of mine for years. But it was hardly a done deal; I still had to audition, as it were.

And then, as one might expect, I had to wait and see. Well, the waiting is over:

I'M ON THE BLUE MOON TEAM!

I'll update with more info when I have it, but essentially what this means is, I'll be at local events at local establishments, helping regular folks paint a large and very cool Blue Moon painting which will stay in that bar once the event is over. I love to teach, love to talk to people, and have found beer to be a wonderful means of getting folks past their fear of picking up a paintbrush, so I think this is going to be really, really fun.

They're flying me to Denver next month for a day of training. I can't wait. When we start to schedule actual events, I'll post them here, on Facebook, and on Twitter.

Dr. Sketchy's Minneapolis!

This is Frenchie Kiss. She's what you missed if you didn't go to Dr. Sketchy's today.

Sweet Frenchie Kiss, mixed media on Stonehenge paper, 11 x 8".

Saucy Frenchie, mixed media on fawn Stonehenge paper, 6.5 x 11"

My friend Tom Winterstein of Old Town Artists went along with me and we had so much fun. I got a Strongbow cider and a bratwurst with kraut, relaxed into the drawing process, and won Frenchie's Favorite with the sketch at top. What a great day.

The State Fair, John Waters, and Why Art is Scary

First, a disclaimer: I am aware of John Waters but am not particularly a fan. This is John Waters:

Photo from the New York Times, taken by Stephen Maturen; click here to go to the article.

Waters is a long-time, serious art collector who is mostly famous for making outrageous movies. I've seen Pecker, which I enjoyed, but not Hairspray (yet). I'll probably never bother with Pink Flamingos. And I think he is a creepy-looking dude and that moustache (is it even real? Does he pencil it on with eyeliner?) is one of the most bizarrely discomfiting things I have ever seen.

So why do I plan to go see the exhibit he curated at the Walker Art Center?

For the same reason I liked Pecker: he's poking fun at the Art World, and I'm hardly alone as an artist in feeling that the Art World desperately needs poking.

In the years I've been painting murals on the walls of regular Americans, I've learned that we are afraid of art, and afraid of artists. Or, if "afraid" is too strong a word, we are definitely intimidated.

People thought they had to walk on eggshells around me. I've had self-made millionaires, I mean amazingly astute engineers and entrepreneurs, worry aloud that I'd think their questions were stupid. I came to understand that we have a disconnected culture. We don't teach art in America. And yet -- from somewhere -- we all get this impression that if we know nothing about art, it's because we are somehow deficient. We're to blame.

Two things about this:

1. It's stupid.

2. Most artists don't believe it.

If you "don't know anything about art," guess what? Artists are fine with that. We don't expect that you will, any more than your electrician expects that you'll know anything about wiring your house.

But the You Should Know This Stuff myth persists, mostly not among artists themselves but among the general public and among some people in the non-art-producing segments in the Art World. Every artist I know has walked into certain galleries and instantly felt intimidated and unwelcome. One thing I love about the Twin Cities is that our galleries tend to be so friendly, but there's still that barrier of having to walk through the door, which can be hard to do when the You Should Know This Stuff belief is standing between you and the doorknob.

And that is why I just registered to enter the big art show at the Minnesota State Fair. Chances of getting rejected are about 80%, simply because there's limited space and so many entries, but I adore the whole idea. It's a huge gallery and nobody there is an expert. If you want to have a Pronto Pup and walk around looking at art, and saying just what you think about that art, you know it's okay. The Fair knocks down the barrier, the same way outdoor art fairs do.

Which brings me back to John Waters, who has apparently recorded an entire audio tour of the exhibit, in Pig Latin, which he feels makes just as much sense as most art-speak. He's put up a photograph which squirts water at any viewer who steps over the tape-marked Do Not Come Closer than This line on the museum floor. The Walker probably couldn't let him sell beer and Pronto Pups in there, but you get the feeling that if he could, he would. He's having fun, mocking the impenetrable facade of High Art, and no, I wouldn't call myself a fan, but for this? I think I might kind of love the guy.