Art World Monopoly

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The object is to "get your work in to Met and make history, " says The Game's creator, William Powhida. His gameboard lets you follow a path through the art world. Youth, a penis and friends in high places will propel you along the path--though interestingly, James Franco, who presumably has all three, is nowhere to be found..

Click onto William Powhida's blog for a better gameboard, a chart of the players, and the rules of the game. Remember, this is a game.

Art in Castleton-on-Hudson

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Art in big old spaces, here the Castleton Project and Event Space in the former Odd Fellows Hall on Main Street. (The sign is still hanging: IOOF, International Order of Odd Fellows, a masonic-like group)

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A few posts ago I talked about my trip to Hudson and showed you images of the Carriage House at the John Davis Gallery. Art in refurbished buildings seems to be a leitmotif of my reportage this summer, because today we travel farther up the Hudson to the veddy Shakespearean sounding Castleton-on-Hudson where we visit another great old edifice full of art.

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Welcome to the Castleton Project and Event Space, housed in the former Odd Fellows Hall on Main Street. It’s a big three-story building that retains much of its original charm (i.e. it’s old and brick and has sweeping views of the Hudson) while offering the features we expect in an exhibition and studio environment (tons of space and good light, lots wallspace and good lighting). I visited there in early August for the opening of Castleton Twelve, an exhibition to launch the space. I am one of the participating artists in a show curated by Lisa Mackie and Peter Mackie, siblings who live around the corner from one another in Manhattan and here in Castleton as well.

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What follows is a running commentary of the images that show you the exhibition and give you a sense of the space. So here let me just give you some particulars:

. Castleton is seven miles south of Albany

. The show is up through September 17

. Viewing is by appointment. If you’re in the area, plan on visiting

. Call John Stookey at 518-217-8369. Let him know I sent you

. You can see more on the Castleton Project and Event Space blog

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There’s much I haven’t shown you. My goal was not to document the entire event but to provide a sense of where I went and what I saw, by necessity an edited view—even before I edited the pictures. We'll stop in on ther first floor n the way out. For now let's climb up to the main hall.

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We approach the second floor. The assemblage in the window is by Peter Mackie. The wall installation, which you'll see better on the way back down is by Manhee Bak.
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Turning right on the second floor, we look into the large exhibition/performance space. The curators are in this picture: Peter at far left, Lisa at far right. Now let's walk in . . ..
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Looking to our right is a wall of prints by Marylyn Dintenfass. To give you a sense of scale, each unit of Dintenfass's installation is about 30 x 30 inches. The windows are about 10 feet high. The flowing print in the window is by Lisa Mackie, an artist and master printer. You can see more of her work . . .
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. . . here: the print in the window and a large unique book that's printed and collaged. Continuing around the room . . .

. . . we see an assemblage by Peter Mackie and a painting by the late Elba Damast. That's John Stookey at far left, looking at the camera; he's the one you'll call if you want to see the exhibition. At right is Meredith Butler, Albany-based maker of fabulous boxes.
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Now we're going to walk through the black curtain . . ..

. . . to view a video by Peter Mackie. What you're seeing here are snapshots from a 20-minute loop of kaleidoscopic images projected onto a faceted and highly reflective screen

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This is my Uttar 234, encaustic on panel, 18 x 18 inches
Below, on the wall with another painting from the same series. I should have sent more. A grid would have been nice . . .

. . . Now let's look into the doorway at left . . .
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. . . a video by Richard Jochum is running
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Back in the main exhibition space we see the Dintenfass prints. Let's now walk through the doorway at right . . ..
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. . . into a front room that contains two drawings by Jochum, two prints by Peter Mackie and the food.

Wait, there's more!

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Back on the landing we look up to the third floor--I love this architectural still life with half door--and glance down at an orphaned detail, below
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The third floor is raw workspace, here leavened with an installation by Sheila Manion Artz. I was seized with nostalgia for my back-to-the-land days of living in the open spaces of a large stone mill a bit farther upstate

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Third-floor still lifes, above and below

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Above, a view from the other side of Manion Artz's hanging; below, still life with fan and river view. (This is the area where the Hudson River School flourished.).
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We're back on the second floor, preparing to head down

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Above and below, you have better views of Bak's tape installation. It looks to me as if he pressed the clear tape to the floor, collecting dirt and bits of paint and wood, and then applied it to the wall--a lovely mashup of architecture in a repurposed building
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The first floor is a storefront. I don't have pics of the windows where Bak and Jeffrey Allen Price both have installations; the reflection didn't allow me to get good pics. You can see Price's work here.

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The view above is what you see when you walk in. Four prints by Nancy Baker are on the right wall (closer view below) and on her website here . Baker has been subverting corporate logos in her gouache and glitter prints and drawings.

A sculpture by Castleton native Matt Hart is in the corner, and that's Lisa Mackie's litho press, which you'll see closer up in a moment.

What you don't see are the gorgeous handbound books by Laurence Fayard. If you click here you can see not only her work but pics she took of the Castleton opening, including some of the storefront space in which her work was shown
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A closer view of Baker's gouache and glitter prints.


Lisa Mackie showing one of her unique printed books. Paintings and prints by Elba Damast are on the wall behind her , and a Damast painting is shown below..


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I love these last two images. Peter Mackie's digital print, above (it looks like a cosmic thumbprint, no?) mirrors--unintentionally, I'm sure--the life and use of the building, evidenced by the layers of paint on the floor

Marketing Mondays: Let’s Talk Prices

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At Art Basel Miami a few years ago, I walked into a booth that had placed two framed Helen Frankenthaler watercolors side by side. I don’t remember them exactly, but they were similar abstractions--lyrical and quite beautiful. Both were no more than 22 x 30 inches, and framed similarly with ornate frames. One was priced $250,000; the other, $450,000.
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I asked about the price difference. The dealer looked at me as if I had just rolled off a turnip truck. And only because I stood there for an answer did he deign to respond. “The dates,” he said condescendingly. OK, so the more expensive one was older and presumably rarer, therefore—oh, is that a turnip in my pocket?—it cost $200,000 more. For most of us this is not personally useful information, but it does underscore the fact that pricing can be based on all kinds of criteria.

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I have talked around this topic but not discussed it directly because the variables are so great. But since every artist thinks about pricing, here goes. This post will raise more questions than it answers. If you’re thinking about how to price your work, these are the questions you have to ask:

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What is the status of the artist?

An established artist can sell her work for higher prices than an emerging artist can. While there are exceptions (the fresh-out-of-art-school art star), typically an artist and her gallery manage prices upward over time because of a good reputation, which is built on years of solid work, good critical response, many exhibitions, and regular sales. I’ve had students see a small work in a high-end commercial gallery with a price of, say, $5000 and then want to put that price on their own student/emerging work. Nice try, but see what emerging artists are asking at the non-profits and at emerging galleries. That’s a better gauge. Indeed, checking out prices in this way is quite helpful for artists at all career levels.

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What is the status of the gallery?

An artist showing in a certain big white box with frosted glass windows on 24^th Street in West Chelsea will see his work sell for way more than an artist who is showing at, say, the Garry Legosian Gallery in East Podunk. Artists and dealers find their own level. Emerging galleries show emerging artists; mid-level galleries show mid-level artists; and the blue chips show the artists with the big-ass careers. It may not be fair, but that’s the fact.

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What is the price range a gallery’s clientele is willing to pay?

Art prices--like couture, celebrity, and high-end cars--are all about what the market will bear. Status sells. The bigger your name, the bigger the gallery’s name, the higher the price range.

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Is the work going to be shown at a commercial gallery? A co-op gallery? A non-profit space? An open studio? A private sale out of the studio?

Every venue has its particular commission structure. A commercial gallery will take 50% of the sale price, which means, typically, that the price is doubled (and then some) from what you and the dealer need to earn. Non-profits, in keeping with their mission, may take less. When you make a private sale, you make your own price and keep it all. But if you are represented by a gallery, it’s not kosher to sell out of your studio without sharing in the commission.

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(Everybody asks this question: What about if you have a gallery in one city but live and work in another? That depends on the arrangement you have made with your gallery. Generally speaking, if your gallery is in Portland, Oregon, but you live and work in Portland, Maine--an extreme example--I think you can probably keep the sale, especially if it's an Open Studio and you have done all the work and PR for your event. But nothing is black and white. If you're enjoying the visibility of an national ad that the gallery has bought and paid for, or have been recently reviewed nationally for a show you had at that gallery, then quite possibly sales may occur as a result of that visibility. Talk to your dealer. And never undercut the gallery’s retail price.)

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What’s the discount situation at the venue where you’ll be selling?

It’s not unusual for a dealer to allow a 10% “courtesy” to a regular client. Some aggressive clients, taking advantage of the current financial climate, request discounts of 30 or 40 percent. (I have undying love for the dealer who reminded a particularly wealthy but sharp-penciled client, “You know, my artists depend on these sales to pay their mortgage or health insurance, to pay for their dental work, even to buy food. I can’t give you a 30% discount.”)

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Are you working with a gallery for the first time?

Let them suggest pricing. They are in the business of selling, and their goal is to sell your work. They might ask you to price low for the first show. As they establish a client base for you, they’ll raise the prices. If you’re uncomfortable with the numbers they’re suggesting, talk about it with them. Perhaps you can compromise. Or perhaps you can create a small group of paintings at that lower price. I’m not suggesting you sell out; find a way to work with a gallery that wants to work with you. You can, of course, say no.

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Are your prices uniform throughout the country?

A New York City gallery wanted to raise the price of my small paintings to a point that would have been prohibitive for galleries in other parts of the country that show and sell my work. I said No. The New York gallery declined to show the work. I don’t regret my decision. My paintings continued to sell well at the original price. In fact, counter intuitively during this bad economy, I raised the prices 20% at the beginning of the year and they’re still selling. But I had to do it in a way that felt right to me.

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Some additional pricing thoughts:

. Art made with expensive materials needs to be priced higher

. Work that takes a long time to make, or that requires many assistants, needs to be priced higher
. Smaller work tends to sell for less than larger work, but there are always exceptions: especially at the blue-chip level

. Better to build up your prices gradually over time. You’ll establish your client base

. You can go up in price but you can’t go down. What are you, Loehmans?

. Don’t put a gigantic price tag on it just because you really don’t want it to sell. That’s a classic art-school ploy. Mark it NFS (Not for Sale). In most commercial galleries, though, NFS won’t fly because the work there is most definitely for sale

. Work on paper tends to have lower prices than paintings. I don’t make the rules, just sharing conventional wisdom. Once you get to be Louise Bourgeois or Picasso, you can change those rules for yourself

. If you feel like your guts are being ripped out because you’re letting your work go for too little, don’t sell it for that price. Or if it's a particular piece you don't want to let go, don't let it go

. In a down economy you may be better off with smaller work, or work on paper, or multiples, all of which tend to sell for lower prices

. Multiples open a whole other avenue of discussion, one that should be discussed by someone who knows the photography and print markets. From my limited perspective, I see that with multiples—and that would be photography and prints--there are not only many copies of the same image but different sizes; different materials and processes; different situations under which the prints are made; limited and open editions; giclees and inkjet prints, intaglios and mass-market lithos. If I were looking to gain some insight into pricing, price work, I would make a point of visiting a print or photo fair.

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One last thought: If your work consistently has the lowest price in the room, or the highest, you might want to assess your price structure—or the venue in which you’re showing.

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What are YOU thinking about prices?

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The Big Five-Oh-Oh

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I've blogging since June 2006, and this is a milestone: my 500th post. In the first few months I didn't blog with any regularity--frankly, I didn't know what I wanted to write about--but by the the time I reported on the Miami art fairs in December, All's Fair that year, I knew what I wanted to do. I've been writing about the art I see in New York City and on my travels ever since. I'm fully committed.

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There are some other interesting numbers: 618 Followers (love you!) and some 750,000 hits since I began tracking readership in early 2008. I just bought more space from Blogger, so I can go for another 500 posts and then some. I guess that's a commitment. Are you with me?

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The Carriage House at John Davis Gallery

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The dappled Carriage House as seen from the gallery's back door

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As a first-time visitor to the John Davis Gallery, I humbly suggest that its motto should be, “Wait, there’s more.” Not that the bi-level space isn’t fine for exhibitions; it is (and Brenda Goodman’s show looked great in it). It’s what happens when you walk out the back door. There’s more.

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Across a sculpture-filled courtyard there’s a four-story carriage house with five more exhibitions. The space has been cleaned out and stripped bare so all that remains are the space with its 19th Century workaday details and, of course, the art.

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When I was there, Ben Butler’s cedar sculptures were in the courtyard. Paintings by Beth Gilfilen and Leticia Ortega Cortes were on the second floor. Suzanne Ulrich’s collage were on the third. And Luis Castro’s wood sculptures were on the topmost floor. Running the length of the elevator shaft was a shimmering installation by Ortega Cortes and Dionisio Cortes, a waterlike but soundless cascade.

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There was other art, too. But what I just noted is what I’m going to focus on. We’ll start on the ground floor and climb up, the installation as our centerpiece.

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This building is over a hundred years old, and you can see that the space was used hard. The entrance is over your left shoulder as you look at this image. I want to draw your attention to the installation visible between the columns at left

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Below is a full-on view. I love the linear quality of the work. Makes you want to draw, doesn't it?

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The glare you see is the light from the entrance, so this view is one level up and about 180 degrees from from the first one

The installation, called Is Where Space Ends Death or Infinity? , is made from some 25,000 plastic drinking straws that are strung with thread. There are two intersecting planes: one suspended at a slight angle; the other with a catenary curve.

Detail of the two planes below:

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I shot this from a small side room, pictured below, so that you can get some of the geometry of the interior. The small rooms--animal stalls in a previous incarnation, or perhaps living quarters for the livery staff?--are now galleries .

Here's a view looking into the room. The paintings inside are by Leticia Ortega Cortes. The painting on the outside wall is by Beth Gilfilen .
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.The small rooms make for interesting bisected views, like the one above. The painting on the right is another Gilfilen. The staircase barely visible in the right corner is shown in profile below: .
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From our vantage point on the stairs we have a good overview of the second floor and the installation in the shaftway
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. Here on the third floor we're at the top of the cascade
.Below, a view looking down .
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. Here we see some collages by Suzanne Ulrich

Just out of view in the right corner below are the stairs we're going to climb to the top floor
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I love the geometry of this stairwell, which leads to a low-ceilinged garret

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Below, the opposite corner, with an installation of carved wooden spheres by Luis Castro. These were the thoughts I had when looking at them: bocce, prayer beads, people
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Castro's human-scaled forms are so sensuous, and I like their curvilinear relationship to the enormous elevator pulley, below
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Before we head back down the stairs, let's take a look out the low window at left.
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Here's the view into the crisp geometry of courtyard with views of Ben Butler's cedar sculptures, Beat and Pitch:
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Next post we travel farther up the Hudson to Castleton, to another reincarnated building with a new life. The Castleton Project space, housed in the enormous former Odd Fellows Hall on South Main Street, is featuring its inaugural show, Castleton Twelve. I'm one of the twelve.

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