Making Sense of the Price of Art

What artists and collectors need to know about the valuation of art.

I am frequently asked about the price of art. Beginning artists want to know how to get started when they don’t have a track record and established artists wonder if their prices are where they should be. Conversely, collectors want to know how an artist came up with his or her prices and if those prices are appropriate. Thus, a blog to help you do the numbers. Lots to cover, so let’s jump in.

Check for a Pulse

If you are a living artist or a collector, presumably living, and you’re wondering how art is priced, this section is for you.

(Dead artists and deceased collectors, please feel free to skip ahead. You earned it.)

Artists, god love ya, but you can be all over the map with pricing and it’s making my head spin. It’s also causing collectors to wonder if what they’re buying is worth it.

Collectors are buying a product–yes, a work of art they have fallen in love with–but it’s a luxury, which is why they compare your prices to other things they also need or want. Once collectors start doing some mental math and making comparisons, you can bet they’re going to second guess you and themselves.

So, how do you keep collectors from second guessing themselves right out of a purchase?

Excellent question.

Do you need new friends?

I’m sounding like a broken record here, but the art world is famously opaque. Let’s face it, we like obfuscation. It’s, well, arty. And fun. Really fun. Which is why I love writing this blog. The art world provides an endless well of secrets from which to draw.

Artists, here’s the deal. Collectors are smart people. We know they’re smart because they like art. Their friends know they’re smart, too. Their friends are also smart, but not necessarily interested in art, which means they’re not as smart as collectors. Are you with me?

So, these non-collector friends try to hide the fact that they don’t care about art and would rather spend their money selfishly on themselves (kidding…kind of…actually, they’re not reading this so, not kidding). And, non-collectors who haven’t invested the time and energy into learning about art try to hide this lack of savvy by making fun of the art that their collector friends have chosen.

Not cool. But it happens all the time.

Apart from the obvious solution–get new friends–the collector needs access to more knowledge about you and what you’re up to as well as some solid intel when it comes to how you price your work.

Ground Rules

In a nutshell, please adhere to the following:

1. DON’T price by the amount of time it took you. Some pieces take a ridiculous amount of time, others just flow. That’s the life of an artist; you learn to take the victories with the struggles.

2. DON’T price by how much you love the thing you just created. You will create something you love even more. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but you will. Let it go and trust in the process.

3. DON’T price based on what other artists your same age or socio-economic or education level are pricing their work at. This isn’t a race. Wish them well and get back to work.

4. DO, for the love of Pete, price consistently by the square inch. (Dead artists, hang on, I haven’t gotten to you yet.)

Ugh! Math...

Yeah, I hear ya, you went to school for art not math. Don’t worry, we’re not getting fancy here.

Step 1. Figure out the square inch, which is height x width.

8 x 10 = 80 square inches

Easy peasy.

Step 2. Assign a dollar amount. (I’ll help you figure this out next.)

Here’s what happens when you pick one amount and stick with it for every size painting you create.

8 x 10 inches = 80 x $5/sq in = $400

16 x 20 inches = 320 x $5/sq in = $1,600

30 x 40 inches = 1200 x $5/sq in = $6,000

The small ones are a little low and the big ones are kind of high.

The Sliding Scale

When you adjust by assigning the smaller works a higher square inch price and reduce that amount as you get bigger, it starts to feel more equitable. And, for lots of artists, this gets a little closer to assigning an hourly wage to the work, since creating art takes time no matter what size you’re working on.

8 x 10 inches = 80 x $10/sq in = $800

16 x 20 inches = 320 x $7/sq in = $2,240

30 x 40 inches = 1200 x $5/sq in = $6,000

Where to Start When You're Starting

My very best advice for those of you who haven’t started selling your work (and no, sales to friends and family don’t count):

Price it low, sell it fast, and use the proceeds to buy more supplies.

Here’s why. When you over-value your early work–yes, it took you a long time and you’re proud of the breakthrough pieces–buyers don’t get why a novice’s work is so expensive relative to artists who’ve been in the market a lot longer.

The next thing you know, the collector is making comparisons. End result: no sale.

Same with dealers and curators. If you price your work too high, we evaluate your work based on what’s out there, but when we check out your accomplishments and don’t find any, we know you have an unrealistic and overinflated sense of your work, and will take great offense if we even brooch the topic of prices. So, we take a hard pass.

The other really, really important thing about selling work at affordable prices when you are just starting out is that you won’t have stacks of inventory piling up. This means you won’t be hanging on to that one amazing work that is your all time best ever. Because when you hang on to the best ever thing you’ve made, it will sit in your studio and taunt you. It will whisper: You’ll never do anything better. Give up. It’s useless to continue.

When to give yourself a raise

There are a number of factors to suss out before raising your prices.

1. Consider taking a 10% increase every 1-2 years. This is a small enough amount to not be readily noticed and scare people off, but big enough that collectors can see that their “investment” in you is going up.

2. Check the economic forecast. If we’re headed into a recession, maybe hold off another year.

3. Know your client base. If you’re clients are in the tech industry, for example, consider how things are going in their world. If everything is booming, no matter what the economy is doing, you might be ok with a price increase.

NOTE: If you never take a price increase, you could see your collector base become as stagnant as your prices. Keeping your prices at the same rate may feel safe, but in the long-run, that security blanket will drag you right into obscurity. The market wants to see a recognition of your growth and success in the form of a price increase, so take it.

Can I adjust for gallery commissions

That’s a big NO.

Think of your work and the prices you command like any other commodity. There is a price it trades for, that price is listed in shows, on wall tags and websites, which means it’s verifiable. And collectors WILL verify your prices. If they see prices are higher in one place and less elsewhere, two very bad things happen.

First, buyers will go around your galleries and exhibitions and call you directly. Dealers always hear about this and will kick you out of their world faster than you can say, “Oh, crap, Rose warned me about this!” On top of that, now you’re in the position of having to haggle and sell yourself when you really should be in the studio making art.

Second, you have devalued your work to the lowest number listed anywhere your work is for sale. Why would anyone pay more?

Remember, collectors don’t always know why something is priced as it’s priced, but they are smart enough to know when things look fishy. And there are simply too many terrific artists who are being consistent with their prices; collectors don’t need to go through the hassle of figuring out a pricing system that doesn’t make sense.

Framing and other considerations

Instead of adjusting your prices to the frame, select frames that are roughly 10-15% of your retail price for that work. For example, a $1,000 painting should have a frame that cost you $100-$150.

Shipping…yeah, that’s a tough one. And now most shows won’t pay for work coming to them or going back to you. Consider investing in air float crates. They are pricy, but you can reuse them many times. Plus they weigh less than wooden crates, which are unwieldily and cost ridiculous amounts of money to send. (And often arrive damaged because delivery people drop them or run fork lifts through them….)

Buying from the dearly departed

COLLECTORS, if you’ve dipped a toe into the deceased art market, you know all bets are off when figuring out pricing.

I covered some of this in my last blog, Collect Like a Pro, which gave you all tips and tricks for navigating the market. Basically, when art hits the secondary market, the prices are determined by a few factors:

Supply and demand
Importance of that work amid the artist’s entire body of work, i.e. was it a seminal piece that marked a major turning point in the aritst’s career?
Quality of the work–is there any damage, has it been conserved, etc.
Provenance–who owned it and whether that collection was important.
Exhibitions, awards, honors, etc., for the work and the artist.

Collectors who are considering buying historically significant works would be best advised to work with an art consultant or go through a trusted gallery. There are a LOT of fakes out there. An advisor can help you find and buy work that is within your budget and has the pedigree you want for your investment.

An Art Afterlife insurance policy

ARTISTS, this is important. When you’re gone, dealers and collectors will be the judge and jury of your work using the above criteria. Remember when I said not to price things based on how much time it took you or how much you liked a work of art? It still doesn’t matter…right now; what does matter is that you keep a record of those breakthrough works and why they were important. Also, record info about your process and who you were palling around with at the time.

The things that hurt the secondary market valuation of art:

Bad auction sales
Lack of visibility in national shows
No catalogues or other critical writing about your work (i.e., astute writing by authorities in the art world)

Here are some things to do now to support the valuation of your work and boost your prices while you can enjoy the dough:

Write things down about work that is important to you.
Try to get your best work into major exhibitions so there is a record of those pieces.
Work with galleries to get prominent collectors to purchased important works.
Seek museums to collect your work, even if that means a discount or donation.

If you’re still wondering about pricing, ask fellow artists and dealers to chime in. And feel free to send me an email. I’ll take a look and give you my two-cents.

Collect Like a Pro

From genealogy searches to knowing how to sniff out pinnacle works of art, adopting the habits of serious collectors can make you a more savvy collector.

No big surprise here: art collectors are a curious breed. Curious for many reason but one of my favorites is that many believe they were born collectors, like it’s a genetic thing. (OK, personally, I kind like this theory; it makes me sound less like a common hoarder and more like, well, an eccentric hoarder.)

Collectors are also quite rare. According to research by Larry’s List published in 2015, there are just 8,000 to 10,000 art collectors in the world. The world. Seriously, there are like a bazillion people in the world, give or take, so you do the math.

By “collector,” I’m talking about people who are avidly putting together a body of work that has a focus. Often their collected works far exceed their wall space, which doesn’t phase them. Collectors are in hot pursuit of the perfect object, always, whether they’re looking or not. And, yes, they’re always looking.

There are, of course, lots more people who buy art to have a few nice things. Their buying habits are a little different than the highly dedicated collectors and range from making impulse purchases while on vacation to buying because they met the artist at an event and really like him or her.

Some buyers work with advisors or interior designers and get things that, well, match the drapery. I’m not knocking drapery or saying you’re not a real collector if you aren’t buying with some lofty goal in mind; art speaks to us all and, heck, if it happens to tie the whole room together–bonus! (OK, now I’m thinking of Jeff Lebowski’s rug, the one that tied the room together…. But I digress.)

Desperately Seeking Art Wonks

Because I love the diehards, the wonks, the nerds, and the poor souls who fall down the rabbit hole of any creative pursuit for days on end, this blog is all about what makes the hardcore art collector tick.

ARTISTS: My hope is that this will help you better understand what collectors are looking for when they buy.

ART BUYERS, PATRONS AND ENTHUSIASTS: read on for some great ideas that might help you in your own pursuit.

And so, to tackle the ins and outs of building a collection, I called on long time Denver art collector, Rob Lewis, who believes that anyone not born a collector has a hard time understanding the passion of those who are and that at the heart of the collector is an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Amen to that.

Finding Your Niche

According to Rob, the most natural place to start a collection is with things you love. Truth be told, I’m not the biggest fan of this approach as a stand-alone and write about some ways to avoid making too many costly mistakes early on. Check out: Buy What You Love or…Try This Approach Instead for ways to help refine your search.

But, at the end of the day, buying what you love and what most intrigues you is exactly how Rob started collecting, and is his best advice for novice collectors.

He went on to say that when you buy what you love, the objects you collect are imbued with personal meaning; they tell a story. Over time, these objects come to connect your life emotionally, aesthetically, intellectually, and financially.

He delineates art buyers from serious collectors in this manner:

“Collectors don’t buy things to decorate their home or office; we collect to fill our lives.”

Rob discovered his passion for the American West not long after moving to Denver. “I wanted to learn about the art that was being created in this region during the 20^th Century. It was perennially overlooked and under-appreciated. The more I learned, the more I realized that there was an incredible body of work that was readily available. I started in the early 20^th century with post-impressionism and followed the progression of Modernism to Abstract Expressionism.”

Over time, he learned to discern the quintessential examples by artists from each era. Along the way, he says he’s made many mistakes but that every mistake was an important learning experience.

It’s also expanded his world in ways he hadn’t expected when he started. “One of the most valuable benefits of collecting has been the acquaintances I’ve made. Artists, family members, scholars, curators, dealers, and most especially, other collectors. I’m truly grateful for all those who have shared their knowledge and friendship with me.”

Check out the website, Modernist West, to see more of his dedicated collection.

Good, Better, Best : Becoming a Connoisseur

Developing a great eye and aesthetic sensibilities comes with time and exposure to art through reading, visiting museums, attending lectures, and talking to experts such as curators, dealers, and other experienced collectors. In my experience, I’ve found that people in the art community are very giving with knowledge, if you ask, but they can suss out the folks who aren’t in it for the right reasons. More on this later.

“I think the art of collecting is connoisseurship,” Rob said. “You learn to distinguish between good, better, and best by looking at objects and learning why one is better than another.”

Think of connoisseurs as the ninjas of collecting; they have the ability to see which objects among an array of similar things are superior. Part of developing this knowledge comes with understanding the evolution of an artist’s career. Early on, an artist emulates his or her teachers. A connoisseur knows this and avoids buying derivative works, which will not hold as much value as the later pieces that carry the artist’s individual voice.

“A successful artist,” Rob said, “will create something truly original: a unique artistic expression. A connoisseur strived to acquire an example of an artist’s work that demonstrates the artist’s unique contribution.”

And he added, pieces you consider buying should be ones that are immediately identifiable as being by that artist.

“It should be a quintessential example at the height of their creative output. It should be a work that is closest to the moment of the artist’s unique artistic inspiration. Later works that repeat and refine the original inspiration are less satisfying.”

Quality is paramount, and yet, all too often art buyers are looking for a bargain. “A great work of art is far more valuable than a great deal,” Rob said. “Size is not the determining factor; a small gem may be far more valuable than a large, unsuccessful piece.”

Buy the Best, Avoid the Rest

Rob collects with this motto in mind: “Buy the best, avoid the rest.” He actually uses a little more colorful language, but basically, you want to get the seminal works by every artist you collect and take a hard pass on the lesser works. This is where having a focus and doing some leg work will really help, in particular, when buying work by deceased artists, which, in Rob’s case, is all he collects.

With living artist, if you are seriously wanting to get into collecting, I strongly suggest you get to know the artists whose work intrigues you.

The the most satisfied collectors I know are the ones who have developed personal relationships with the artists they collect. In so doing, everything they own has much more personal meaning. It tells a story–yes a story of the artist–but the collector gets to add his or her own story to it.

This is easier said than done, especially if you are not immersed in the art scene. And, honestly, some of the most important works done in an artist’s lifetime are sometimes the most difficult to live with; they are too confrontational or too intense. Sometimes it takes years for society to catch up with what artists are putting out in the world; it’s easier and safer for people to poo-poo something strange or radically new than it is to stand up for works of art that make others feel uncomfortable. But this is the art the connoisseur wants because it will bear witness to something very personal and, in so doing, something universal.

Because connoisseurs want quintessential works of art, they can, in their haste when something comes up for sale, be fooled by an imitation—that piece of art that was too good to be true. Knowing how much research Rob does, I was surprised by his answer when I asked if he’d ever bought a fake.

His response:

"You haven’t lived until you’ve bought a fake."

How to avoid buying a fake?

In a word: provenance.

Provenance is the record of ownership and is used to establish legitimacy of a work of art by tracing it to the source, whenever possible. If you’re buying from a living artist, provenance is easy. Your job is to keep good records should you decide to sell. With deceased artists, it can get murky and often requires some sleuthing, but this will be time well spent, especially if you can avoid a costly mistake.

When researching provenance, Rob suggests asking the following questions:

Where and when was the piece created? What were the circumstances of its creation? Was it exhibited? Where and when? Are there written reviews of its exhibition? Was it acquired by a museum or someone important? Was it stolen? Is the piece signed by the artist? Is there an inscription on the piece? Was the piece conserved or altered in any way?

Collecting on a Budget

We are all bound by our financial circumstances. Luckily, there are many places to start that do not require large sums of money, such as hand-pulled prints and photography. But again, consider first and foremost what most intrigues you. From there, Rob stresses that you should never pursue collecting for financial gain.

“If you acquire the best of the best,” he said, “and you have a bit of luck, your collection may appreciate substantially.”

Here’s a little known secret of the art world…

Lots of collectors and dealer won’t sell to someone who is buying for the wrong reasons. I know this sounds crazy, especially if you’re under the impression that everyone in the art world is starving.

The art market can be exclusionary, secretive, and opaque. It is also very small and gossipy, so much so that bargain hunters might discover that they have been blackballed on a national level from buying desirable works. They may also learn they have not even been given the opportunity to buy seminal pieces.

There are several reasons why. Bargain hunter’s collections are often replete with inferior works purchased for the autograph, not the quality. Dealers and artists don’t want important work seen amid a sea of bad art.

Second reason: no collectors want to discover their efforts in finding quintessential pieces was for naught, that those pieces have been locked away in storage. Many collectors won’t sell their best things to a rookie buyer but will instead hold out for the opportunity to place those important objects in a museum where they can be shared with a larger audience.

The third reason is that bargain hunters, simply by making low-ball offers, have shown their lack of commitment to collecting and their inferior aesthetic sensibility.

Paying a Fair Price

Part of connoisseurship is understanding the market. To build your knowledge, keep track of national sales and auction results. Over time you’ll see how works of similar sizes, by the same artist, go for very different prices–sometimes dramatically different. You’ll learn, through this exercise, what makes one work of art more desirable than all the others.

The mistake new collectors make with this information, however, is vital to understand. Pricing by the square inch is for works by living artists. Pricing of work by deceased artists is based on provenance—who owned it—and by those quintessential qualities that make that particular piece more desirable amid an artist’s entire oeuvre.

Experienced connoisseurs often know the works they want to add to their collection and where those pieces are hiding or where they were last seen. They also know that the most prized works rarely sell in a gallery or at auction; they are bought and sold quietly and discretely and only into collections where the work will be cherished, protected and available should a museum want access.

So, what do you do if you find a work of art you desperately want only to learn the price is out of your range? You have two options: pony up or walk away.

Finding Unique Objects

Collectors are hunters; they are constantly on the prowl.

“The internet is a godsend for collectors,” Rob said. “I research the period that I collect, and delve into archives to find newspaper articles, exhibition catalogues, inventories, and correspondence. I will even do genealogical searches to track down family members and colleagues. I’m in contact with dealers, galleries, auctions, curators, and scholars. And, most importantly, I communicate with other collectors.”

Know What You Don't Know

“As a collector, I have learned so much from so many,” Rob said. “I’ve had many mentors, advisors, and colleagues. It’s what makes collecting so gratifying. I have been surprised at the willingness of others to share their knowledge and insight. Everyone as an opinion, and it may not be the same as your own, but it may be valuable. You may start as a collector, but if you listen carefully, you will become a connoisseur.”

Want more about collecting? Check out these blogs:

Please leave questions and comments and, yes, feel free to share my blog with friends!

Building Creative Minds

In “The Long Lasting Benefits of Childhood Creativity,” published in Psychology Today, November 2021, Victoria Prowse, PhD looks at research from the National Child Development Study (NCDS) that has followed nearly every child born in the UK the first week of March 1958.

Though the study was established to learn more about infant mortality, it was extended after a few years to look at issues in education. Of the many amazing things this study has uncovered, Prowse takes a deeper look at the link between creativity in children at age 7, as noted by their teachers, and their achievements later in life.

After controlling for economic background, parenting styles, and the like, Prowse says, “Those who tested as more creative children earn more and reach higher levels of education, and tend to work in better-quality jobs that require experience.”

Yes, my friends, you read that right...

Every child is an artist, the problem is staying an artist when you grow up. -Picasso

Most artists I know enjoy sparking creativity in children. It’s an honor, really, to pass on the creative spirit. And while working with other people’s kids is not in my wheelhouse, I so enjoyed teaching my boys to draw, paint and write, and loved joining them at play in their imaginary worlds.

But time marches on. This fall they’re off to college, which is, I find, bittersweet. I’m thrilled they are about to fly away, off on their own adventures and I feel confident, (fairly confident, anyway), that I’ve given them the tools to do so, in particular, tools that will help them see the world through a creative lens. And yet, the thought of not being able to sit around the dinner table talking about things of great importance or of little consequence, that does sting, just a bit.

Just a Hobby?

And so, with colleges selected, orientations lined up, and financial aid packages turned in, I keep reminding them of their creative penchants–one in writing, the other in photography–and have suggested that they take courses in these fields.

To my chagrin, neither is pursuing anything in the arts, not even as a minor.

I don’t know how this happened.

In fact, whenever I bring up the possibility of taking an art class even as an elective, they shrug and respond:

“Mom, that’s a hobby not a career.”

and

“You can’t make money doing that.”

But why is art a hobby? And, what’s more, how is it that even my children, who have grown up surrounded by art, who have met successful artists, and have been encouraged and praised for their artistic ability–why do they still see art as a lesser calling?

The World needs creative minds

Play Video about Temple Grandin Ted Talk

In her TedX DU talk from May 2011, Temple Grandin, expressed the need for creative/visual thinkers. Grandin is autistic and has, throughout her life, had to deal with considerable obstacles. Check out this video for her insights into how her own unique brain works.

Despite her disabilities, Grandin holds a PhD from Colorado State University and is renown in the cattle industry for revolutionizing the way animals are treated, which she was able to do because of the way her brain works.

A creative visual thinker, she realized early on that she could see solutions to problems that pattern thinkers (engineering/math-based minds) couldn’t. Grandin insists that different kinds of minds have to work together in order to see all sides of a problem.

One of the issues we face today, she believes, is the specialization of educational paths and the lack of creative training. In the linked video, she talks about the nuclear power plant disaster that occurred after a tsunami hit Japan. The brilliant engineers who designed the plant didn’t consider safe guards should a tsunami strike. A creative/visual mind, she believes, would have foreseen such an occurrence and planned for it.

If we're all born creative, how do we lose it?

I’m a big fan of Brene Brown, the social scientist who specializes in vulnerability and shame research. I highly recommend her talks and books, in particular, the audio seminar, “The Power of Vulnerability.”

Part of her research delves into the qualities of “whole-hearted” people. She describes these people as possessing the ability to embrace life to the fullest. They are healthier than most because they have learned how to shake off life’s struggles, disappointments and fears like water off a duck’s back.

One of the key characteristics that every whole-hearted person has and actively pursues as a form of expression is–you guessed it–creativity.

Brown, who has the most delightful self-deprecating sense of humor, talked about how frustrating this discovery was for her personally. She said that when friends would invite her to join them in some artistic activity, her response was an emphatic: “No thanks. You,” she would say, “can do your A-R-T but I have a J-O-B.”

Both Sides of the Coin

In her research, Brown discovered something fascinating about people who eschew creativity. They could go back to the exact day in their lives–most often in middle school–when a teacher ridiculed their attempt at art.

Shaming a child at this formative stage had, in every case, the devastating effect of shutting off the spigot of creativity.

I don’t mean to get down on teachers; it’s a tough job and they could use more support. And, sure, the negative stuff always seems to hang around in our psyche somewhere, even when we’ve also been exposed to teachers who have inspired greatness.

For me, inspiration came from Mr. Snow, my fifth grade English teacher, whose tough critiques of my writing pushed me to be better. My memory of Mr. Snow was that he treated me like a writer. Mr. Snow believed in me.

Art Finds You

I still hold out hope that my boys will take an art course or two in college and continue to flex their creative muscle, even if they consider it a hobby.

Thinking globally, however, if creativity in kids is, as the UK study suggests, an important factor for success later in life, shouldn’t we all be doing more to support access to the arts for kids?

In her April 2020 TEDx talk, Jane Werner, the director of the Pittsburg Children’s Museum, explained that children are constantly questioning their model of the world. Encouraging experimentation in kids is paramount and includes developing spaces with great design. Kids innately love design, she said, which is why they often enjoy the box their toy came in more than the toy. Joy, she added, also needs to be woven throughout kids’ experiences.

Practical ways to Inspire Creativity

Victoria Prowse suggests adults can inspire creativity by encouraging independent thinking in several ways. Try asking questions with no right or wrong answer, for example. And, give kids challenges that can’t be readily solved using the logical steps they’ve already mastered. Most importantly, support children when they are faced with resistance to their creative ideas. Not everything will be great, but recognizing originality should be encourage. The goal is to support the never ending flow of creativity.

Here are some easy ways to inspire.

Keep acrylic paint, crayons, brushes, paper, canvas, clay–anything tactile–on hand and available for kids to get into.
Less talk, more action. Skip the excessive instruction and, instead, let kids dive in and get dirty.
Jump in with them. Demonstrate the pleasure in play and experimentation through the act of creating.
Don’t be critical of kids OR of your own attempts; there doesn’t have to be a right or wrong way.
Recognize and praise individuality.
Before you offer help, encourage kids to experiment and discover on their own. The lego car or painting of a dog may not turn out anything like the diagram or photo–who cares? Art isn’t necessarily the end result; it’s the journey.
Let kids have messy spaces. This can be tough for folks who hate clutter, but for kids, it’s their sanctuary, a place where their imagination blossoms.

BONUS POINTS for adults who let kids dress themselves; this is one way we can foster self-expression and confidence from an early age.

Remember, kids are always watching grown ups; your actions and words communicate more than you know, so channel your inner Incurable Optimist, roll up your sleeves and get to play.

And, if you need help reconnecting with your own inner art child, the marketing coaching I do starts there. Reach out if you want to learn more, rosefredrick.com/contact/. I’ve got some great workshops coming up that will help. Please visit my Workshops page.

Please share your experiences and best tips for fostering creativity in young minds.

Tilting at Windmills

As one of the judges for the 2022 Breckenridge International Snow Sculpture Competition, I had the opportunity to ask a bunch of artists one of my favorite questions: Why?

In this case, WHY create art out of snow, under these conditions, knowing it’s gonna melt–that it’s probably melting as you work?! Talk about a bunch of incurable optimists….

A Container of Essence

In the art world, we’re all about collecting and preserving things that are important testaments to our life and times. And other cool shit. This ideal gets challenged hard when presented with objects that weren’t preserved properly or couldn’t be preserved–frescos, old photos, film, paintings on unstable substrates, stuff like that–or with art that was never meant to be collected in the usual way.

Sand mandalas created by Buddhist monks come to mind. In this case, the “art” is not the end result but the process that brings forth “an internal awakening to the desire to let go of attachments.” The act of wiping away the mandala, therefore, is part of the art because it completes the “letting go” process.

But, geez, there’s nothing left and hardly anyone got to see it! (And by “anyone,” I mean me.)

Earthworks and land art, in a way, are the creation of mandalas on a monumental scale. The “canvas” is nature which, for a time, allows the artist to create a transformative experience and bring attention to important issues, such as the environment. These works of art are transitory but, for the time they are around, we get to see the familiar through a different lens. Land art isn’t, in my mind, so much about letting go, however, as it is about realizing what we unwittingly let go of when we stopped caring, or weren’t paying attention.

Here’s a wonderful article in Artland Magazine, about pioneering earthwork artists.

: Agnes Denes, Wheatfield-A Confrontation, 1982, Manhattan

: Robert Smithson, Spiral Jetty, 1970, Rozel Point, Utah

: Nancy Holt, Sun Tunnels, 1973-1976, Great Basin Desert, Utah

: Christo and Jeanne-Claude, Surrounded Islands, 1980-1983, Biscayne Bay, Florida

: Andy Goldsworthy, Sycamore roots surrounded by sycamore leaves,

: Michael Heizer, City, 1972-2020, Nevada

So, you may be wondering, what kind of zen fools make art like that? Excellent question. Honestly, I don’t know. I do have a guess as to Why, though.

A Place Where Art, Nature & Booze Collide

I had the great good fortune of being asked to help judge the 2022 Breckenridge International Snow Sculpture Championships along with Alex Kendall and Tina Rossi of Breckenridge Gallery and sculptor Dwight Davidson.

I must admit, this task made me nervous. I do a fair amount of judging and jurying of art exhibits, but snow sculpture–monumental snow sculpture–was a first.

Turns out judging a new medium was the least of my concerns. I hadn’t fully accounted for the conditions. Obviously, it’s gotta be cold to sculpt snow, but this means judging happens, basically, in a meat locker. (Thus the booze, I’m thinking.)

No Pansy-ass Power Tools Allowed

The day I arrived, sculptor teams of four had already put in three grueling days carving with hand tools (power tools are strictly prohibited), on 12′ x 10′ x 10′ packed blocks of snow. That night, while I was tucked into a warm bed, many teams were working until dawn to complete their sculpture by 9:00AM when judging was scheduled to begin.

Yup, snow sculptors are some hearty folk. I’d go so far as to say that if snow sculpting were an Olympic sport, these artists would be the biathletes–you know, the crazy cross country skiers who stop every so often to shoot at, I don’t know, slower skiers? Snowboarders? (Seriously, who does that sport?)

Now that I think of it, snow sculptors would totally do that sport. All this to say, snow sculptors are tough as nails. And zen as hell.

A Quixotic Journey

Founders of the Breckenridge Snow Sculpting Championships, Rob Neyland and Ron Shelton, have competed with their own team all over the world for the last 40 years and have a bunch gold, silver, and bronze awards to prove their chops.

Their understanding of the art form and how these competitions unravel was vital knowledge for us judges.

In a nutshell: teams spitball concepts, someone is then tasked with the duty of creating a clay maquette (a miniature sculpture of the idea), the team applies to competitions, and, if juried in, they put themselves through four intensely exhausting days of carving under pressure, in extreme conditions. Fun, huh?

Here’s a pic of Rob Neyland and team’s maquette for “String Theory.”

Teams are not just competing against each other’s concept and sculpting feats, but they are also working against the elements. A bright sunny day could weaken a sculpture to the point of collapse and utter ruin. Nights that don’t adequately freeze also spell danger because the snow doesn’t have a chance to freeze and begin its transformation into its more stable crystal-like form (think of snow as very, very slow running water).

Here’s the completed sculpture. Note to man standing to the left to get a sense of scale.

And then there’s the rather dubious blocks of snow these sculptors get to carve. For example, the block provided by the Milwaukee Zoo, Rob told me, was replete with camel dung and the block in Moscow’s Gorky Park was laced with cigarette butts and beer cans.

But like the weather, funky blocks of snow are part of the challenge and the thing that ensures everyone starts on a level playing field.

FYI: Breck snow is some of the best in the world, naturally.

Here’s a pic of Team Breck’s gold-winning sculpture, “Frozen Moment,” at the Milwaukee Zoo competition. Note the lovely camel dung patina.

Cross Your Fingers

The morning of judging, Yours Truly–bright-eyed and bushy tailed (well, sober anyway)–arrived at 8:00AM, with my fellow judges to get busy sussing out the winners. Holy moly, what a transformation! The biggest change for most sculptures was that all supporting pillars of snow had been removed (check out before and after pics below).

I can only imagine how nerve-wracking that must have been, taking off the supports and hoping you got the weight ratios right. Apparently, this requires a slow and methodical approach where snow is gradually whittled down to a silver dollar-sized connection. Then, a few deep breaths and Hail Marys later, the final connection is severed about an hour before judging begins.

We judges were told that, if something collapsed into a pile of rubble before judging got under way, we could still consider that sculpture based on original concept and what we’d seen the night before. Thankfully, nothing went down in flames.

Transformative, Indeed

The thing that struck me about this whole event was that, once the sculptors put down their tools and stepped back, what remained of a 25-ton block of packed snow looked a lot like marble. There were even striations running though some works and large ice crystals that looked like chert.

Like stone, these sculptures also carried a sense of the memory of the hand that worked it, of the body that had to understand the need to go slowly, to feel and listen for the warning signs of a deep, internal fissure that might let go at the wrong moment.

There was also a sense of relief, a long exhale: the engineering worked. The temperature fluctuations were just right so that the snow became a different thing, a more solid form. The magic transformation that these sculptors listen for had happened: the dull thunking sound of hand tool against a freshly packed block of snow had taken on the singing quality of wine glasses meeting in a celebratory toast.

The Futility of Preservation

And so I asked the question of many sculptors over the days I was in Breckenridge: Why do something that can’t possibly last? Rob Neyland’s response is my favorite: “The notion of permanence is an illusion.”

Art created from snow sticks around for only a handful of days. You had to be there to make a memory, which is the only thing that remains of this art. All of which begs the question: What is art? Is it the final product or is it the effort, the performance, the motion of the body in rhythm with some flicker of an idea?

The men and women who compete in these events are artists, engineers, stone workers, restoration contractors, and other similar professions. They come for many reasons. Teams are tight-knit and have leaned over the years to move as one, in tune with each other and the sounds of the snow.

They also have a mindset grounded in humor that may stem from an understanding that all their planning and hard work could, if just one thing is off in the slightest, crumble into a heap moments before the competition ends. Which may be why they are also such soulful artists. I love what Team Germany wrote about their piece, “Float” (edited): “The subject lies in the geometric creation of order and maximum reduction to attain ‘esthetic essence’. It’s about balance and transformation. The goal of art is to develop objects for spiritual use, much as man designs objects for material use.”

How Do You Hold a Moonbeam in Your Hand?

Rob Neyland explained one of his team’s more esoteric works, titled “Water Song,” as capturing water for the briefest of moments and suspending it against the sky. He said, “We cast our fleeting form upon it but our vision is short-lived; it soon melts and resumes its journey to the sea.”

And so, as soon as the artists have set down their tools, the sculptures have already started their retreat back to ground. On the final day the exhibit is open to the public, there is a ceremonial bonfire lit within each work, hastening its journey back to the sea. The next morning, the site returns to a bustling parking lot.

I guess it’s a lot like life. No matter how hard we try to hold on, try to preserve beauty, beauty resists, beauty stays in motion. Memory, thankfully, lingers.

Maybe art is, as one sculptor put it, like a gourmet meal with friends; long after the food is gone, the joy of being together, rejoicing in the moment, stays in some permanent place inside your heart.

Wanna learn more about the Breckenridge International Snow Sculpture Championship and see who won? Here’s a link to the 2022 Guide: Click Here.

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Please Pursue Some Other Career in Life

How I discovered I was an artist

By Carm Fogt, guest blogger

Sitting in a warm summer meadow, next to a creek in Yosemite, all I can think is, what the hell did I agree to? On my lap is sketchpad. In front of me is the most gorgeous waterfall I have ever seen. Over my shoulder, my sister-in-law is gently coaxing me in her kind and patient voice saying, “Just sketch the waterfall.”

Oh my god, I think, this can’t be happening. My palms begin to sweat. I know I will never be able to draw that waterfall.

I’ve known this since grade school. I have no ability to draw or, for that matter, do anything artistic. The first realization came when I was in first grade and confronted with a mimeographed bear and a box of crayons. My exuberance couldn’t be contained inside the lines. The kids around me–the beloved rule followers–laughed at my frenetic coloring. Clearly, I was no artist.

And, if that wasn’t enough to keep me away from crayons, Elmer’s glue and construction paper for good, the TV Guide arrived weekly with that tempting ad of a little cartoon animal and the teaser: “If you can draw Winky, we’ll hook you up with art supplies and free art lessons!” I was in high school by this time, the crayon fiasco behind me, and so thought I’d give art another go. I traced the little animal, sent it in and…failed. The powers-that-be sent a short, cutting reply that read, “Please pursue some other career in life. Thank you for your entry.”

Jumping In – and I Don’t Mean the Creek

Back in the meadow, reminded of past failures, I begin to rethink the decision I made earlier in the day. It was either a hike up the 4-mile trail with my husband and his brother or sit in the valley with my Yosemite artist-in-residence sister-in-law, Janis, while she taught her daily watercolor workshop. Hike and sweat or sit and chill by the creek. It was a no brainer, right?

How is it then that a sketchpad and pencil can send me right back to the horror of being made fun of in elementary school? All I can think is, will anyone notice if I sneak out? I glance at my watch hoping it’s almost time for lunch.

But Janis is a persistent champion of art and, for some reason, she thinks I can draw Yosemite Falls. I had confessed my insecurities to her before we started; thankfully she didn’t laugh. Instead, she suggested that when I noticed something in my drawing that was out of whack, I should simply erase that part and fix it. She said that my eye would tell me what to do.

My eye? What? Now it was me trying not to laugh at her. Seriously, erasers are allowed? No way. You mean that people who can draw–real artists–use erasers?!

Incredulously, I start. I draw and erase and draw some more until I make something that looks like the waterfall. But something else begins to take hold. Suddenly, I’m living in the moment; I’m a part of the creative flow. Years of doubt, years of believing what others told me are erased like a badly placed line.

That Was It

Over the next couple hours, I lose my anxiety over putting down a mark. Just as Janis said, it wasn’t permanent. I have unlimited do-overs. My hand relaxes and does what my eyes tell it to. I am completely engrossed.

The sun sinks low in the west, mosquitoes start to buzz around me, and yet I just don’t want to leave, I don’t want the magic feeling to end.

Back in the cabin, I search for something to draw, light upon my well-worn sneakers and start drawing them. Soon I’m drawing just about everything in the cabin.

Thus began my journey into art. I drew that waterfall. I drew Half Dome. I drew chairs, shoes, people (well, almost people). It was a miracle. I could draw and I loved doing it!

How could this be? I couldn’t do it before. Why now? Why here? All those years wasted, believing something that wasn’t true. I had always thought it was strange that my mom could draw, so could my nephew, but the rest of the family, it seemed, were just missing the art gene. Or so I thought.

If I Could Turn Back Time

How strange that just a few dings on my young ego were all it took to steer me away from ever trying art again. Why did this happen so easily and so firmly? Thankfully, albeit, years later in life, all it took was a little encouragement from a trusted instructor to turn it around.

And it wasn’t just encouragement and kind words; Janis gave me permission to fail.

I wonder, would the world even have art if artists didn’t know they had permission to make mistakes and erase them, start over, let go of what didn’t work and keep searching until they found the right path?

What Janis shook loose in me started a journey that took me to Asia to study with master brush painters. I don’t know exactly why their work captured my imagination, but that first trip, the artists I met, the instructors and the creative atmosphere brought me to a place that I never would have found had there not been a warm meadow and a kind-hearted instructor to coax it out of me.

Lifting My Brush with Confidence

I can’t turn back time, of course, but I can look to the future. I can give children the encouragement they need to pursue their innate love of creativity. And I can keep pursuing this career.

Maybe that’s what caught my imagination when I began learning Chinese brush painting: a quick brush with something negative could turn into a lifelong false belief just as easily as a quick brush with something positive might turn into a lifelong pursuit.

To see more of Carm Fogt’s work, please visit her website, https://www.carmfogt.net.

Interested in being a guest blogger?

Email with your ideas or consider taking a blogging workshop with me. For more information about workshops and blogging, please check out my Workshops page.

Standing Next to Myself, with Questions

I’ve had, for years, the strangest surrealist moments sparked by catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror or reflection in a shop window. It can be startling, this dissociative, out-of-body experience, wherein the image before me does not correlate with the image in my mind’s eye.

Plainly put: I don’t know what I look like.

It’s as if I’ve been blocked out, like Rene Magritte’s (1898-1967) figure behind the apple in “Son of Man,” and only know my face as the apple. Then, on occasion and for reasons unbeknownst to me, the apple disappears, revealing a face I hadn’t expected.

Magritte’s explanation of this painting may shed some light:

“Everything we see hides another thing. We always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.”

When Art Imitates Life

Studies indicate that both men and women spend nearly an hour a day looking at themselves in a mirror. I’ve never timed myself but suspect I’m not all that different. So why, I’ve often wondered, is my reality so skewed from my internal knowing?

From the website, ReneMagritte.org, here’s an interesting bit of insight into the artist’s train of thought:

“…what is concealed is more important than what is open to view: this was true both of his own fears and of his manner of depicting the mysterious. [His paintings were] not so much to hide as to achieve an effect of alienation.”

Right. So, according to Magritte, I’m actually being startled by “the visible that is hidden”?

Dang. Those surrealists were deep.

Alienation

During WWII, Magritte lived in German-occupied Belgium, apart from his fellow surrealists who remained in Paris. Feeling alienated and abandoned, Magritte supported himself by painting fake van Goghs, Picassos, Cezannes, and others.

I wonder about this choice, to be a forger as means of survival. Was it simply an obvious way of making money? Or was it part of Magritte’s journey deeper into his own vision? Would his own post-war works have been as poignant had he not forged paintings in the manner of these artists? Did the act of creating forgeries help him understand something essential about each person he emulated, thereby unearthing elements of his own personality?

Or maybe he just kicked ass mimicking others and didn’t want to starve to death.

Oh! OK, fun fact: Magritte got so good at forgeries that he was able to create fake bank notes during the occupation, which he and his family lived on. And, apparently, the forgery biz was so lucrative that Magritte’s brother, Paul, took over when Rene went back to making an honest living. Who knew?

The war undoubtedly affected Magritte, but not his form of expression. Surrealism was the visual dialogue introduced to him in Paris by Andre Breton, the founder of the movement, years before the war, and the style Magritte rarely if ever strayed from. Magritte insisted that his work was meant to push viewers to question their sense of reality and become hypersensitive to the world around them.

I would add that his paintings force the viewer to become hypersensitive to the world within, as well.

Hidden in Plain Sight

As straightforward as Magritte’s comments about each work are, there are still layers to peel back.

Like the shrouded figures. Some suggest that these stem from memories of seeing his drowned mother, who had committed suicide, pulled from the river near their home, her dress covering her face, like a shroud. Magritte was 13 when he witnessed this.

I’m not a scholar on Magritte but I do wonder how much of his work, if any, is about something other than his past and this loss.

Learning to See

Viewing art is not a passive act. The viewer may be standing quietly, absorbing images, but inside neurons are firing, electrical impulses are kicking in, surging through the body, in particular when memories are triggered, reminding the viewer of something personal. Here’s an interesting article about all the amazing things happening in the body when viewing art: Art Enhances Brain Function and Well-being.

For me, Magritte’s work triggers an internal recognition, a jolt from a kindred spirit in pursuit of the real within the obscured or shrouded, a connection to the floating parts of ourselves, light signals from the transfigured imagination.

Baggage Is Part of the Experience

I’ve lived with this sense of not knowing what I look like or, worse, believing that I’m sitting in an important meeting, not as the middle-aged professional curator I am, but as a pudgy child with stringy hair and bad skin.

I see, in my head, the frumpy, naive girl my mother always told me I was. (Still, to this day, given the opportunity, she never misses the chance to land a blow with an abusive jab.)

For much of my life, the surprise was looking in a mirror and not seeing that girl.

This personal dogma is what I’ve bought to the mirror and carried throughout my life. When told anything counter to this belief, I rejected it out of hand, certain that these flatterers were idiots and scammers.

And then, for some reason, the world shifted during Covid; disassembled “me” began to pull together.

The True Gift of Art

I tossed out the word, “dissociative,” not to be hyperbolic but to express this weirdly surreal aspect of my nature, this not knowing my own image in a mirror. It’s a strange thing to believe what others say about you to the point of losing yourself, and yet I know so many people experience this. It’s how we lose our way in this life.

Art, artists, and therapy have helped nudge me toward a rethinking of my beliefs, so that the most tender spots in my psyche can be examined and healed.

And, as strange as it may sound, when I work with artists on marketing, we always start by excavating their “why.”

On the surface, this is because I can’t help a person market what they themselves cannot recognize. Yes, every artist can talk about materials and technique, but that’s not what collectors are buying. Collectors are buying an idea. They are buying a piece of the artist.

It’s an amazing gift to be present with creative people as they take on the task of self-interrogation. The process can be messy and emotional and confounding (much as my own self-innterogation has been), but always the journey back to center–back to the reason one became an artist in the first place–is such a glorious awakening.

Freeing the Artist Within

I have come to believe, thanks to many candid conversations with artists, that the act of making art, in its purest sense, is self-interrogation. If the artist is being true to his or her nature, every painting, photograph, or sculpture is a self-portrait. Sometimes these self-portraits are so revealing they are terrifying. And yet, the artist persists.

Art is also a kind of panacea, a prescription for a drug that pulls one closer to his or her core being. No artist can predict who will take what message or cue from a work of art; that’s not the point of it, really.

The point is to expose the artist’s self, and through that act, the viewer can finally set down her baggage, look in the mirror and see the person who was there all along.

If you’d like to continue this conversation, please leave a comment below. And feel free to share my blog with friends.

If you are interested in looking into marketing for artists, please reach out and contact me to discuss further.

Making a Case for Contemporary Western Art

In the summer of 1996, I was hired to curate a small, regional show in Denver, at the National Western Stock Show. During the Stock Show and Rodeo. In January.

I had never been to either the fledgling Coors Western Art Exhibit & Sale or the Stock Show, but the idea of an art exhibit in such an off-beat, unexpected venue struck me as a unique and exciting challenge.

Obvious hurdles aside, (a blizzard shutting down the city on opening night, for starters), I enjoyed puzzling out the curatorial questions that came with this show, such as, how do I get successful artists to participate in an exhibit held at a stock show and rodeo? How is Western art defined? Is there room to broaden the conversation within that definition? Could I invite artists who didn’t create traditional fare but were technically “western” artists because they lived and worked in the West?

Could I, I wondered, blur the lines between traditional and contemporary art?

What’s Scarier Than Naked Women?

Back in the early days, the Coors Show was flying under the radar. I took this opportunity to try out my theories about pushing boundaries with artists whose work didn’t fall squarely within the stricture of “Western.” It helped that I had few guidelines to follow beyond finding living artists whose work reflected the Western way of life. We were a fine art show that included photography but not crafts such as pottery. Oh, and no nudes; strictly PG.

Taking on an unknown show at an unproven venue meant that I had little or no shot at getting the big names in traditional Western art. Yes, I tried getting them, but they were busy or didn’t return my call. I couldn’t blame them. The Autry had the Masters of the American West, and the Cowboy Hall was killing it with the Prix de West. Great exhibits that showcased the best in traditional Western art. The tiny Coors Show simply could not compete.

I rang up old friends, explained my idea of opening up the conversation about the West and the art that’s being made here, and was able to get Len Chmiel, Skip Whitcomb, George Carlson, Steve Kestrel, and others to come on board. They lent their good names and reputations to help me jumpstart the show. Lots of artists who saw those names on the roster gave us a second look. Still not the traditional artist, though. But I was OK with this. I had other ideas in mind.

Two Roads Diverge

In the art world, when you toss out the word “contemporary,” people hear things like “abstract,” “challenging,” “confrontational,” and “hard to understand.” Say “Western” and slap “art” onto it, however, and people see illustrative works that tell stories, ala Charlie Russell and Fredric Remington. Western is definable; you know it when you see it. Contemporary, well, that’s out there in the wilderness making stuff up and getting all emotional about it.

Despite the rift between philosophies—traditional vs. contemporary—finding a singular path for the Coors Show was top on my list. I wanted artists who were the best at what they did, who took on subject matter with masterful skill and conviction. I wanted artists who were unafraid to be authentic, even vulnerable.

The other thing I really wanted to build was a show that gave voice to our great artists who didn’t fit neatly into either traditional or contemporary venues. I wanted to show Daniel Sprick and Dean Mitchell alongside William Matthews and Barbara Van Cleve.

More importantly, I saw a niche in the market no one was tapping into: a contemporary-realist focused exhibit about the West. The only catch was I couldn’t use the word “contemporary.” Not at first, anyway.

How to Offend a Curator

I look at the art of curation much like throwing interesting dinner parties where disparate guests discover they have a lot in common. Or things devolve into fisticuffs. Either way, I’m happy. The idea of curation, in my mind, is to create opportunities for conversations that get people talking. Even better, opportunities to show my audience their familiar surroundings in a new way. Putting contemporary art alongside traditional work, well that, my friend, is a heck of a dinner party!

I will admit, my open arms approach has ruffled a few feathers. I get it; art is personal, but the extent to which some folks have gotten upset about art, at times, has surprised even me.

One of my favorite stories happened the year I hung Theresa Elliot’s hyper-realistic cattle paintings (think the Mona Lisa, if she were a cow), across from Ted Waddell (think Motherwell meets cattle). An old rancher came in, found a volunteer to let her know he was there because he felt he needed to come see the art show each year. She graciously welcomed him and let him know she could help if he needed anything. Not too many steps into the gallery and he was confronted with Theresa and Ted. He stood there a long while then went back to the volunteer and made her join him between the works. He pointed to Theresa’s paintings and said, “These paintings are incredible.” Then, turning to Ted’s work, he said, “But these! These are a colossal waste of paint!”

The volunteer was afraid to tell me this story, but when she did, I hugged her. This is what curators live for: eliciting a response, evoking emotion. That rancher really looked at the art and had a reaction. Western art got under his skin and made him feel something!

When was I offended? That happened when a local art critic whose opinion I valued (and still do) wrote something to the effect of, “the show is filled with bucolic paintings.” Bucolic! Here again the volunteers who happily taped the review in the breakroom at the gallery, were stunned that I’d taken offense. Bucolic. She might as well have said I lulled patrons to sleep with my vanilla curation.

After that review, I redoubled my efforts to bring interesting and thought-provoking work to my audience. Not to offend, I really don’t want to offend anyone, but to present ideas and a unique lens with which to view the familiar.

Crossing the Line

The amazing thing about having a show in a non-traditional setting like the National Western, is that nearly 40,000 visitors from a diverse cross-section of our western population stop by. Because our audience is made up of people who live and breathe the western way of life, I believe we owe them authenticity. Traditional or contemporary—these things are stylistic choices. Authenticity is a core principle. The very nature of being an artist is to take on subject matter with masterful skill and conviction. But also, to be unafraid to be authentic, even vulnerable.

Many Coors Show artists were born and raised in a traditional western home. Don Coen, for example, grew up in Lamar, CO on a working ranch that, until he turned 12, had no running water or electricity. His only complaint was that he had to ride a horse to school—all his friends had bikes. But Don, like others in the show, puts the exploration of what it truly means to live in the West first. He knows why he’s creating this work: it’s intrinsic to who he is and decidedly not what he thinks the market wants.

Another tenet of my curation: if we’re going to show work about Native Americans it needs to be created by Native American artists. In a conversation with Denver Art Museum assistant curator of Native American Art, Dakota Hoska, on the triggering effect of traditional Western art that depicts Indigenous people in historic settings, she said, “Romanticized art has the effect of flattening the Native American experience. It’s reductive. They want to paint our culture but only the part before someone tried to destroy us. Our people were here 13,000 to 50,000 years before white people showed up; we never got to see how our society would have ended up.”

And, as Donna Chrisjohn, co-chair of the Denver American Indian Commission, said of Fredric Remington’s stereotypical portraits of American Indians, “it leaves us frozen in time and largely contributes to our invisibility today.”

These days, I ask why. Why is an artist doing this work? Why now? Why are they the ones to tell the story? As curator for the Coors Show, I believe it’s my responsibility to present contemporary artists of all walks of life and allow them to hold the stage and tell their story. I am consistently buoyed by the support of collectors, especially younger collectors, who seek out contemporary, authentic voices.

Looking to the future, I would love to see more open mindedness and space for alternative—yes, contemporary—voices to be heard. I truly believe, for Western artists, this is the only way our genre will be recognized in the larger arena and ultimately, stay relevant for the next 100 years.

How to buy and sell art at auction

If you’re a collector, chances are you’ve considered selling off a painting or two at auction to free up some space or make a little cash, naturally, to buy more art. Undoubtedly, along the way, you’ve discovered that it’s way more fun to buy than sell.

This time around, I take a deep dive into the world of auctions, bringing you some insider knowledge about how things work, what leverage, if any, you might have, and how to strategically buy and sell in what has become, according to the Wall Street Journal, one of the “hottest markets on earth.”

The Bane of Artists Everywhere

Just to put things into perspective…most collectors don’t realize that auctions are nerve-wracking as hell for artists. I personally avoid adding them to any selling show I work on because I have no desire to put artists in a situation where the work will be undersold and therefore compromised.

I have said this before but it bears repeating: discounting art erodes the artist’s market value. The collector buying at a discount feels they have gotten a good deal, but what they’ve really done is establish that the artist’s work is not worth the stated price.

While work by deceased artists–especially those rare pieces that hit it big–make auctions look like a boon for artists’ careers, the reality is that, for living artists, it’s the place collectors have discovered they can buy on the cheap.

OK, I am now stepping off my soapbox.

The following is an article that will run in Western Art & Architecture, winter 2021/2022. I interviewed collector Doug Erion to get his best tips and tricks, as well as Jennifer Vorbach, former auctioneer and International Director of Christie’s Post War and Contemporary art department, for a little insider intel.

NOTE: I specifically wanted to talk to an auction expert who no longer worked for an auction house. My hope was to get an unvarnished look at the inner workings, which Jennifer provided. To learn more about Jennifer Vorbach, check out her website: JenniferVorbach.com.

Why Auction Results Matter

Did you know that, when establishing valuations for art for most appraisals, auction records play a very big role–a bigger role than I personally think they should (not that anyone’s asking). Appraisals for insurance coverage, a.k.a., replacement cost, are based on retail sales figures. However, for estate, resale, and donation appraisals, valuation is almost solely determined based on auction and previous recorded sales. The difference between retail price and auction results can be astoundingly different.

If you’re thinking this is no big deal, consider that collectors look at those auction records to determine whether your retail prices are appropriate, and thus, whether they should buy your work or not.

And those auction records? They live forever online.

So, how can artists get auctions to support their pricing structure and not hurt valuation by letting work sell below retail?

Unfortunately, I don’t have a good answer. For Blue Chip artists, galleries and/or collectors with a dog in the fight, i.e., a financial investment in an artist’s career, attend auctions, bid up the work, and buy, if necessary. Honestly, I’ve often wondered why galleries don’t do more of this with prominent artists in their sable. Sure it’s pricey, but in the long run it would bolster their artists’ careers.

The Sell-side: Auction vs. Gallery

Auctions are, by art world standards, transparent. Art is put up for sale. It is photographed, condition reported, vetted, and analyzed for value based on myriad details ranging from the artist’s importance to the work’s place within the artist’s oeuvre. By law, the reserve cannot be higher than the low estimate. Sales are done in a public forum, now made global by the internet. Generally, both buyer and seller pay a premium to the auction house.

Gallery sales, on the other hand, are opaque, private transactions. There is a set price for the art, usually decided upon by the artist with his dealer’s input. However, should there be any haggling and deal-making, which can happen along the way to the final transaction, that’s kept on the down-low, primarily to keep the integrity of the artist’s pricing structure intact.

Risk and Reward

For sellers, working with a gallery is often considered less risky. Both collector and dealer agree on the resale price and the commission rate, which can be anywhere from 10-40%. And, while some works of art might have gone up dramatically over the years, most work won’t appreciate to the degree that the collector sees much of a profit after commissions are paid and might even take a loss.

By contrast, auction houses set prices in a range, starting at what can be a terrifyingly low estimate—a number that makes lots of resellers back away. The strategy is two-fold, according to Jennifer Vorbach, former auctioneer and International Director of Post-War and Contemporary art for Christie’s and now a private consultant. “The auction wants to make it competitive, to get as many bidders as possible,” she said. “And it tends to work. Lower starting estimates also allow the auction house to gather and use statistics like, 50% of our lots exceeded their mid-estimates, and 50% sold above the estimate. The auction house then use those statistics competitively.”

Can the seller set the reserve, you wonder? The answer is yes. And no. If a work is of high value and desirable, the seller can negotiate a higher minimum, as well as lower or no premium payment to the auction on the sale, and even receive prime placement in the sale’s line-up (earlier is better, to get bidders while they’re fresh, and the excitement is high). “Everything is negotiable,” Jennifer said, “but if the auction house is not keen on the art, they won’t give you an attractive estimate or even take the work.”

Should you shop work around to several houses to get the best deal? According to Jennifer, if you have a good relationship with one auction, it’s best to deal with the house you know. If you do decide to shop around, she warns, be prepared for competing houses to whisper disparaging things about your art, especially high-profile pieces, something she has seen happen. An auction might cast doubts to steer buyers away from a rival house. “It’s very competitive,” she said.

Perhaps the biggest benefit auction houses can offer over individual galleries is their immense mailing lists and knowledge of buyers. Auctions further create excitement and anticipation for upcoming sales by sending out gorgeous catalogues and posting them online. Plus, the news stories generated from record-breaking sales help add to the fervor.

Fickle Fashion of the Art Market

No matter where you chose to resell art, gallery or auction, you should bone-up on the market before making a decision. Because, while you may think the worst-case scenario is that your art doesn’t sell, the reality is that you may have just “burned” your art.

Auction results are reported publicly, and those reports, as I mentioned earlier, last forever. Anyone can look them up and see how sales went. What they can’t see is why things didn’t sell, or were “bought in.” And so, for years to come, there will be a shadow of doubt hovering over work that didn’t sell, so much so, that should you try to sell the work again, the estimate could be listed lower than your first attempt.

Art is also subject to fashion trends. Jennifer noted how Helen Frankenthaler who, after a major show of her work at the Museum of Modern Art, in New York, suddenly lost her edge. “There was so much of her work in one place,” Jennifer explained, “the works canceled each other out. But, as the art world revolves, other painters of her generation and previously neglected artists—often women and artists of color—have had the spotlight turned on them. Now her work is very much back in demand.”

Blurring the Boundaries: Guarantees and Private Treaty Sales

Over the last two decades, auction houses have crowded into gallery territory in two major ways: private treaty sales and guaranteed sales. Though neither is a brand-new concept, the prevalence has caused a shift in galleries as they respond to the competition. Basically, private treaty sales are done directly between seller and buyer without ever going to auction. The auction has a tremendous advantage over galleries because they have a deep list of collectors to call on, and they know not only who won works by the same artist, but they know the under-bidders. Like galleries, these sales are much less transparent, and they are not reported.

Guarantees are another way auction houses compete with fellow houses but also with galleries by taking out the risk in the sale. Here, the auction guarantees the selling price. If the work of art goes for less than the guaranteed price, the seller still makes his amount. And, if it goes for above the guarantee, the seller not only makes his number, but gets a portion of the upside, as does the grantor. Buyers can see if a work has a guarantee; it will be listed in the catalogue, albeit, in very, very fine print.

Fun and Games: Buying at Auction

OK, seriously, auctions are great entertainment. They have a certain air of a casino attached to them: some art goes big, some craps out. So, what’s the best strategy for getting what you want?

According to collector and auction denizen, Doug Erion, the key is research, research, and more research.

Because of his dogged approach, Doug knows where a lot of work is, which has made it possible for him to swoop in and grab pieces others may not have realized were coming up for sale. Case in point was a Helen Frankenthaler print, one of which resides in the Tate Modern collection. “The Tate has a nice long video about how that print was built,” he said. “Frankenthaler uses many layers; it doesn’t look like it. The video shows how she did this one particular piece. Would I have bought the piece otherwise? Probably, it’s spectacular. But seeing that video and knowing the Tate owns one, pushed it up in my mind.”

It’s also important to note that Doug’s attitude toward auctions informs his strategy. “I go to auctions because of availability,” he said, “not for the lowest price.”

For expensive works, he often calls the auction house and requests a condition report. With prints, which he’s been predominately collecting at auction these days, he’s concerned with foxing or discoloration of the paper. So, if the print is framed and damage not readily apparent, he asks that the frame be removed to confirm the condition. Yup, you can actually do that.

If a piece is not expensive, he will put in a conservative bid for the amount he is willing to pay up to. “If the bidding goes past, no problem,” he says. By doing this, he keeps from getting too invested in the outcome, and so won’t overspend in the heat of competition.

If it’s something he really wants, he will determine the amount he’s willing to pay over and above the high estimate. Sometimes he mans the bidding process, but usually he prefers to have a trusted advisor bid for him, again, with the intention of not going too far over his budgeted amount, unless the situation warrants.

The Bottom Line

If you’re new to auctions or find them frustrating, consider hiring someone like Jennifer Vorbach to help. Often, an expert who knows her way around the auction scene can work magic, open doors, and even find things you haven’t had any luck tracking down on your own. At a minimum, understand that reselling work is not as easy as buying so do your homework, ask questions, and learn how individual auctions work (terms vary from house to house). Most importantly, set realistic expectations.

For more information about buying and selling at galleries, check out these blogs.

Laying Down the Law

In the art world, a lot of business is done on a handshake. Take consigning art to a dealer. Often there’s no actual consignment contract, just the good ol’ handshake.

What could possibly go wrong?

OK, let’s be honest. If and when presented with a contract, how many of you give it more than the cursory skim before signing?

Well, guess what? It's Your Lucky Day! Read on for some...

I work with a collector who happens to be a corporate lawyer. He’s hired me to help him rationalize his sprawling collection of paintings and prints by historic Colorado artists, and sell off what no longer supports the newly defined parameters. Kind of fun, actually, figuring out what stays and why and what goes and how and where to sell the items that don’t complete the story.

After three decades in the biz, I walked into this gig feeling confident in my knowledge of sales and consignment.

In actuality, it turns out that I–along with most of my peers–could use a brushing up on our legal rights and how to protect ourselves.

And so, in the spirit of helping artists and collectors avoid a little pain and suffering, I present to you:

The Consignment Loophole

In the process of moving a rather important and expensive painting through a dealer, my client–the guy who writes contracts for a living–set me straight on the law.

In a nutshell:

1. You do indeed hold title when consigning work to a dealer, with or without a consignment contract.

2. A consignment agreement is an important instrument that lays out the terms of consignment and is enforceable by law…most of the time.

3. Bankruptcy trumps consignment agreement.

4. You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip.

A truly terrifying case study

Stuff happens. The gallery gets hit with a lot of expenses during a slow month so they use funds from sales to keep afloat. They have every intention of catching up next month. But then a natural disaster hits or a viral infection rips through the entire world (just like Stephen King predicted in The Stand…but I digress), and business grinds to a halt.

Or you get sucked into a Ponzi scheme of epic proportions.

Thank goodness, dear Consignor, you have a contract and are, after all, the owner of your art, right? All you gotta do is just drive on down to the gallery and get your work back.

Uh, yeah, good luck with that.

Possession is nine/tenths of the law

Do you recall the 2007 Salander-O’Reilly Gallery bankruptcy? Here’s the Reader’s Digest version of what happened to one collector who got caught in the middle.

Dr. Ronald Fuhrer, on behalf of the Kraken Foundation, consigned a painting, Sandro Botticelli’s Madonna and Child, to Salander-O’Reilly Gallery. Kraken was guaranteed a minimum payout of $8.5 million when the painting sold.
Unbeknownst to Kraken, Lawrence Salander was about to be hauled off to jail by the Feds “in the midst of accusations of unpaid debts and fraud, including numerous instances of diverting the proceeds of works sold by the gallery, and the facts which came to light and eventually resulted in a criminal conviction of Mr. Salander.”
Fuhrer, on behalf of the foundation, had signed a consignment contract with Salander BUT did not file a UCC-1 financing statement protecting their interest in the artwork. (More about this later.)
Under the Consignment Contract with Salander, Fuhrer requested the return of the painting once the consignment period expired, but Salander did not comply.
Fuhrer went to court to sue for the return of the painting owned by Kraken Foundation AND…
Lost!

Learning the Hard Way

WHY: Bankruptcy court trumps a consignment contract. Fuhrer was denied the return of the painting, because it was deemed part of the sale that would be used to pay off Salander’s creditors.

THE LESSON: Had Fuhrer submitted a UCC-1 financing statement, which would have told the world he had an interest in the personal property of the debtor–in this case, Salander–he would have been first in line to get the Madonna and Child back.

UPDATE: After seven years and $2 million in legal fees, Fuhrer finally got the Botticelli back. Here’s a link to that story in artnet News: click here.

We Don't Need No Stinking Badges

OK, so now you know: in Bankruptcy, the law works to make third parties whole. But, artists, there’s some good news for you. Recently, laws have been put in place, state-by-state, to protect artists. Check with your state. Here’s Colorado’s law: Article 15-Consignment of Works of Fine Art.

COLLECTORS…

Sorry, but you don’t get the same consideration as artists under the law. That’s why you should file a UCC-1 financing statement. You also really, really, really need to know and trust any dealers you’re working with and have a good contract for all consignments.

I’ll give you details about what to include in a good consignment agreement right after one more scary story.

(It is almost Halloween, after all.)

The law protects the third party

I recently heard of a situation where a collector of rare, hand-made shotguns consigned one of his guns to a reputable dealer. When the seller learned his shotgun had sold and contacted the dealer to be paid, the dealer said he was very sorry but he had fallen on hard times and couldn’t pay up. He said he would try his best to make the consignor whole but….

The owner of the shotgun then said, “OK, just give me back my shotgun.” To which, both dealer and buyer said, “Nope.”

The seller has no legal recourse here. A “bonafide” purchaser bought in “good faith.” Title was transferred to the new buyer. The dealer could be sued, yes, but now we’re talking legal fees and small claims court. The shotgun is gone; the money spent.

Good luck squeezing blood from that turnip.

Elements of a Good Consignment Contract

ARTISTS: Check your state’s laws to see what protections are in place already. Here’s that link to Colorado’s statute: Consignment of Fine Art.

Financials: terms of sale, terms of payment (how long before you get paid), sales percentage splits, length of contract.
Advertising and promotions: what’s the split of costs, if any, between artist and gallery/dealer. What kinds of promotions will the gallery do and what are the expectations on the artist?
Discounts: do you, the artist, allow discounts, and, if so, how much is allowed? Do you need to approve all discounts offered to clients by the dealer or will you allow them to decide up to a certain amount?
Insurance: at what point does the gallery take over insuring the art, and make sure it’s insured in transit, when, for example, the dealer sends things out on approval.
Exclusivity: what amount of territory does your dealer have exclusive rights over. What happens if work sells within that territory, say at a fundraising event in the same city as your gallery? Does the dealer want to restrict you from selling work out of your studio or will you need to give them a cut of the sale?
Framing: is the expectation that all work be framed or can some work come in unframed? If the gallery frames the work, what are the expectations of splitting the costs or the gallery recouping cost upon sale or return to artist?
Need a contract? Consider reaching out to Colorado Attorneys for the Arts (CAFTA), a pro bono legal referral service connecting artists, performers, cultural organizations and creative business to volunteer attorneys. CAFTA also offers educational presentations, webinars and resources. Click here: CAFTA

Additional thoughts for Collectors

COLLECTORS: File a UCC-1 financing statement, which is a legal notice filed by creditors in an effort to publicly declare their right to seize assets of debtors who default on loans. Here’s a link to the form: UCC-1.

Include elements above and add:

That you maintain a “purchase money security interest and first priority lien in and against the Artworks to secure the payment of the purchase price.”
Agree on purchase price or percentage of commission for the sale. Consider whether you want a specific amount–the dealer will then add to that price the amount he needs to make on the sale. Or you can agree on a percentage that the dealer will make regardless of the selling price.
Who pays taxes on the sale–the dealer should but I’ve seen contracts that indicate that the consignor is/may be responsible. Best to spell that out.
Shipping and handling–decide who pays and how the work will be handled when out of your control.
Expenses associated with the sale of the art. Sometimes with resales there are condition issues that have to be addressed with a conservator. Determine who pays for what and make sure you are notified of the issues and what needs to be done BEFORE the work is done. Reframing, condition reports, and appraisals are other cost that might crop up; think about how these should be handled and make sure you are notified before anything is done.

The Bottom Line

It doesn’t matter how airtight your contract is if you can’t trust the person with whom you’re doing business. So, do your homework and ask around before entering into any agreement.

And remember, the art world is very, very small.

To know about new blog posts, please subscribe to The Incurable Optimist (that’s me). And please feel free to share my blog with friends and on social media!

Downsizing: reimagining life as a Helen Frankenthaler painting

Living in a Helen Frankenthaler painting

I recently downsized from a house of more than 4,000 sq. ft. into a cozy 1,600 sq. ft. place. I am, by nature, utilitarian, and a minimalist, so this move was in many ways a return to a sort of balance I had once possessed. The idea of contracting my life back into a smaller living space felt like, essentially, moving out of a frenetic Jackson Pollock drip painting into a strong and intentionally spare Helen Frankenthaler. Or so I thought.To my chagrin, moving house clearly and painfully demonstrated that I was no Frankenthaler. In fact, when it came to clutter, I had surpassed Pollock.

In my defense, the slow slide from utilitarian toward hoarder took place over the last 20 years and two kids. And, fine, I’ll admit that I may have a little first edition book and art addiction, which I will get to…but I also may have a problem throwing away, well, anything—notecards, photos, holiday decorations, memorabilia, threadbare clothes, shoes. So much for minimalism.

Swedish Death Cleaning

When I first heard the term “Swedish Death Cleaning,” I must admit I was morbidly intrigued. According to the articles I read, the idea is to get rid of as much stuff as you can, so your loved ones don’t feel the burden of having to decide whether that cheese grater meant something to you or not. And it turns out there are lots of other benefits, namely that living with less clutter quiets the mind, helps one destress and realize a sense of calm. Seriously, there are great article and studies about this—here’s one from Psychology Today, if you’re interested.

Sparking Joy versus Avoiding Reality

Downsizing has been an exercise in patience. I’ve never read Marie Kondo’s books or seen her cable tv show, but people have filled me in on her philosophy, which I always thought was a bit silly. Until now.

I found, as I packed to move, that some things felt heavy in an oppressive sort of way, as if they required more from me than they should. Was I, I wondered, keeping things out of obligation? And yet, even as my rational brain said to let go, I just couldn’t ditch a single book, pencil, or spatula. The job of pairing down to move became so ponderous that I finally gave up and threw everything into boxes for the movers to schlep to my new place, thinking I could deal with it later.

The afternoon the movers dropped off the last box, I remember watching the sun sink low in the sky, and warm afternoon light bathing stacks of boxes and books piles everywhere. Instead of the feeling a sense of renewal, I felt exhausted and overwhelmed. Nothing sparked joy.

Call the Girls

For some reason, in the weeks after the move, I kind of shut down each time I tried to unpack. I couldn’t make a decision. I hadn’t even hung a single painting from my beloved art collection. What was wrong with me? I was literally walking around boxes and stacks of books trying to find my electric toothbrush, a can opener, and dish towels.

Finally, I did what any rational woman would: I located the martini shaker and called the girls. They came without question and adhered to my one request: be honest. Boy, were they. Suddenly, seeing my things through their eyes, I was able to detach—not from my art collection, of course—but everything else was on the chopping block, and chop we did.

After they left, I held a yard sale and whatever didn’t sell was hauled off to Goodwill. At last I could pull my car into the garage.

OK, full disclosure: I can park in the garage if I carefully pull in between a tower of boxes on one side and an antique desk on the other. (Don’t judge. I’d like to see you do it.)

So, yeah, I need to do more death cleaning, but I am getting closer to a Frankenthaler every day and it does feel good.

A Cup of Righteous Indignation, Anyone?

Despite the fact that I am still in the process of cleaning out the closets and taking stuff to Goodwill, I actually went to an estate sale that promised art, antiques, and rare books–truly, the only thing better would have been puppies.

I wasn’t actually going to buy anything. Just looking, you know, for a friend. OK, maybe I’d get something, but only if I saw a great piece of art that had been totally underpriced.

I pulled up and parked by the private tennis court, and followed the signs down a shady footpath toward the back of a sprawling ranch home. Very promising. But as I turned the corner of the house, I nearly crashed into a row of tables piled high with random mismatched household items—crock pot, coffee mugs, cheese graters, French press, utensils, and assorted tchotchkes.

I’ve come to realize over the years that my brain doesn’t work well amid clutter. I have a hard time focusing, so much so that I often turn and exit this kind of chaos. But as I stood there, all deer-in-the-headlights, the strangest thing caught my eye. Leaning against a stack of dented pots was a small, framed photo of a young girl in her First Communion dress and veil, hands pressed together, just below her chin, eyes focused on some distant light shining from above.

Geez! Who would toss a personal family photo on a pile of household crap? Didn’t a single relative claim it? Or at least have the courtesy of pretending to understand that the dearly departed kept that picture all these years because it had some sentimental value?

Of course, on the heels of this bit of condescension was a sucker punch of reality:

Was I so sure my own family knew or even cared about the things I’d collected all these years?

Driving away from that estate sale—yes, I did manage to make my way through the house, and, no, I didn’t buy a thing—I thought that someone really should have done some death cleaning.

And then, sucker punch number two:

Who the hell was I to judge?

Wow, my BS detector was set on high alert that day.

What haunts me

The lonely First Communion photo still kind of makes me sad; it should have been claimed. And it scares me because I doubt my own friends and family would understand much less try to suss out the value of any of this stuff that still surrounds me.

What I'm doing about it

In 2009, I had compiled a concise listing along with photographs of my art collection, which I then had appraised. It’s recommended to have your collection appraised every three to five years. Whoops.

In my line of work, I have been asked to do many appraisals, so taking care of my own documentation shouldn’t be an issue, right? (It’s true: the cobbler’s children have no shoes.)

I’m guessing one or two of my readers need to do this, along with a little Swedish death cleaning. So, here we go.

Over the years, I’ve developed a system that I’m going to share this with you so you can make sure you’re taking care of business, too. I keep track of my records online, in an Airtable. If you’re not familiar with Airtable, you really need to check it out. It’s a free, open source site that has tables for just about anything you can think of. It’s basically Excel on speed. Here’s a link to my art collection layout: Rose’s Art Collection Base.

Here's what you need to record

Artwork title. Don’t make this up—check the back of 2-D work or the underside of a sculpture. If no title exists, call it “untitled” or “title unknown” and give it a small description such as “portrait of young girl in communion dress tossed on table at estate sale.”
Size of the image and outer size of the frame, height by width. For sculpture, add depth. Note: art dimensions are always listed in this order–height by width; you confuse us when you reverse things.
Medium–oil, pastel, watercolor, bronze, etc. And, list the specifics of the substrate, if you know it, such as “oil on linen,” or “c-print mounted on card.” If you’re not sure, call an artist; they will know immediately what you’ve got.
Year the artwork was created. If you don’t know exactly, list the approximate date and toss the word “circa” after to denote that you’re pretty sure it was done close to this year.
What you paid. If you have the invoice and are uploading things in a spreadsheet, consider taking a scan or photo of your sales materials, and adding them to the digital file.
Where you got the artwork. This establishes a lovely trail that we in the biz thoroughly enjoy. It’s called “provenance.” Long after the artist has passed, the provenance really comes into play, establishing the importance of the work and, thereby, it’s value. If a work of art you own has been shown in a museum or major exhibition, make sure you keep record of that and leave the museum tag, if one was placed on the back of the work, exactly where it is. (As an aside if a museum wants to borrow something, for goodness sakes, say yes! This supports the artist and your collection.)
Frame on painting or base of sculpture. Add details such as 18k gold leaf water gilded or walnut base with name plate.
Glass or plexi, museum grade, UV, etc.
Note any dings or mars to the frame or artwork surface, as well as discoloration or creases to works on paper.
Note what dealers are selling the artists work. I like to add this for the family, so they know where to call if they decide to sell off things at some point. It’s much easier to work with dealers who are familiar with the artist and have a ready contact list of buyers. They will charge for the sales but in most cases it’s worth it.

Tips and Tricks for photographing art

You don’t need to take print worthy pictures for your records. In fact, I use my iPhone for recording my collection as well as when I’m working on an appraisal.

The main things you need photos of are the front and back of paintings, if sculptural, get pics from 3-4 angles, take a closeup of the signature, and if the frame is really special, get a couple closeups of corners or compo designs.

Here’s a favorite trick I’ve learned when taking pictures of paintings under glass: lay the work flat on the ground, close the blinds and shut off overhead lights, then shoot down. You may have to move your body a bit until you find the best spot with the least reflection–sometimes I stand on a chair–but the smart phone camera auto adjusts for low light.

Don’t forget to take a photo of the back of 2-D work, if there’s any writing or show and gallery stickers on the back. This helps established the provenance of the work.

Do You Need an Appraisal?

There are several reasons you might need or want to get an appraisal.

Replacement cost for insurance: the cost to replace a work of art if it is stolen or lost in a fire, for example. That cost is determined by looking at current market values, i.e. what it will cost to replace the work. It’s pretty straight forward. Your insurance company does cover things like your home and clothes and tv, but they generally don’t cover art unless you supply them with a clear list and an appraisal. Check with your agent.

Donation of art: most institutions won’t accept art donations without an appraisal, and the person making the donation will need the appraisal in order to get a tax write-off.

Division of property: lawyers may request these to accurately divvy up property in a divorce, for example.

Estate appraisal: required by the IRS, these appraisals must done by a certified appraiser.

What to look for in an appraiser and what to expect:

In many states, appraisers of art do not have to be licensed to do replacement valuations for insurance. They do, however, need to have substantial market knowledge, which is why you can often find gallerists and curators doing these kinds of appraisals. Check the laws of your state before selecting an appraiser for insurance valuations.
Look for an appraiser with specific knowledge in the work you need valued. Personally, I stick to a narrow scope, focusing on art I am already familiar with. I do not, for example, appraise rugs or jewelry; I refer that out to someone who works with those things.
The appraiser should not sell art for the client. This is a conflict of interest. If you want someone to sell your collection, you want an art adviser not an appraiser. The adviser should tell you the current market values, where they got those values, and give you an idea of what they think they can net for you. Sign a contract with the adviser before embarking on the sale of any art.
Appraisers will give you a letter of intent that explains how they work and how they charge–usually an hourly rate.
There are national and international associations that list appraisers. You can also ask a gallery you frequently work with or your insurance agent to refer you to an appraiser they use.

Feel free to reach out if you have any questions: Contact Rose.

Essays on Art

What artists and collectors need to know about the valuation of art.

Check for a Pulse

Do you need new friends?

Ground Rules

Ugh! Math...

The Sliding Scale

Where to Start When You're Starting

When to give yourself a raise

Can I adjust for gallery commissions

Framing and other considerations

Buying from the dearly departed

An Art Afterlife insurance policy

If you’re still wondering about pricing, ask fellow artists and dealers to chime in. And feel free to send me an email. I’ll take a look and give you my two-cents.

From genealogy searches to knowing how to sniff out pinnacle works of art, adopting the habits of serious collectors can make you a more savvy collector.

Desperately Seeking Art Wonks

Finding Your Niche

Good, Better, Best : Becoming a Connoisseur

Buy the Best, Avoid the Rest

"You haven’t lived until you’ve bought a fake."

Collecting on a Budget

Paying a Fair Price

Finding Unique Objects

Know What You Don't Know

Want more about collecting? Check out these blogs:

Please leave questions and comments and, yes, feel free to share my blog with friends!

Yes, my friends, you read that right...

Every child is an artist, the problem is staying an artist when you grow up. -Picasso

Just a Hobby?

The World needs creative minds

If we're all born creative, how do we lose it?

Both Sides of the Coin

Art Finds You

Practical ways to Inspire Creativity

Please share your experiences and best tips for fostering creativity in young minds.

A Container of Essence

A Place Where Art, Nature & Booze Collide

No Pansy-ass Power Tools Allowed

A Quixotic Journey

Cross Your Fingers

Transformative, Indeed

The Futility of Preservation

How Do You Hold a Moonbeam in Your Hand?

How I discovered I was an artist

Jumping In – and I Don’t Mean the Creek

That Was It

If I Could Turn Back Time

Lifting My Brush with Confidence

To see more of Carm Fogt’s work, please visit her website, https://www.carmfogt.net.

When Art Imitates Life

Alienation

Hidden in Plain Sight

Learning to See

Baggage Is Part of the Experience

The True Gift of Art

Freeing the Artist Within

What’s Scarier Than Naked Women?

Two Roads Diverge

How to Offend a Curator

Crossing the Line

The Bane of Artists Everywhere

Why Auction Results Matter

The Sell-side: Auction vs. Gallery

Risk and Reward

Fickle Fashion of the Art Market

Blurring the Boundaries: Guarantees and Private Treaty Sales

Fun and Games: Buying at Auction

The Bottom Line

For more information about buying and selling at galleries, check out these blogs.

Well, guess what? It's Your Lucky Day! Read on for some...

The Consignment Loophole

A truly terrifying case study

Possession is nine/tenths of the law

Learning the Hard Way

We Don't Need No Stinking Badges

The law protects the third party

Elements of a Good Consignment Contract

Additional thoughts for Collectors

The Bottom Line

To know about new blog posts, please subscribe to The Incurable Optimist (that’s me). And please feel free to share my blog with friends and on social media!