Marcia Hafif at Larry Becker, Philadelphia

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Installation view of Marcia Hafif's Fresco Paintings at Larry Becker Contemporary Art, Philadelphia

The show is up through this Saturday, May 30

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In yoga, it's not all about contorted positions. An essential part of the process is to focus on the breath. As the air fills the lungs, the muscles stretch, the space between the joints expands, your inner chatter quiets; then, even as the air goes out, that openness remains. With each breath the sense of of quiet and openness increases. You end a session more connected to the oneness of everything.

This is what it's like to view paintings by Marcia Hafif. Except it's about color, not breath. Hafif is a monochromist, or at least she was until recently. With, Fresco Paintings, the new series she's showing at Larry Becker Contemporary Art, there are two colors in her paintings. The format varies only slightly from painting to painting. Divided vertically, there's a neutral white field and one with a rich, almost glowing, earth hue like terre verte, raw sienna, or Italian brown pink—transparent fresco colors that give the series its name. The division, which doesn't vary percentually, is about 60 percent color, applied with a flat, maybe filbert, brush so that the strokes give depth and richness to the hue, and 40 percent "white." Looking closer, you realize that the "white" is actually a very pale blue, and that the degree of paleness differs from painting to painting. The slower you look, the more you see.

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Fresco: Violet-Grey NY 09 3 and Fresco: Golden Green NY 09 4, both 2009, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 inches

The works are installed around the gallery so that colored field faces colored field, solid faces solid

Fresco: Italian Brown Pink Lake NY 09 2, 2009, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 inches
Detail below

In the second gallery are paintings from Hafif's Table of Pigments series from 1991. Each painting features one hand-milled hue. I've always liked these paintings, with their chromatic richness coming as much from a surface of impasto-like brush strokes as from the refraction of the pigments themselves. Gallerists Larry Becker and Heidi Nivling have selected six.

In the second gallery: Hafif's Table of Pigments: Cerulean Blue, Pthalocyanine Green, and Cadmium Yellow Deep, all 1991, oil on canvas, 22 x 22 inches

Below: a photograph showing the entire series. That's Nivling's hand in the picture

Marketing Mondays: Gallery Business

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Blame it on the economy. Many galleries are turning over a new leaf--changing how they do business, typically because of diminished staff

or funds. It's a good idea to check in with your gallery to see how things are going, to learn of any changes in the way they're operating and--since we're in this together--to see if there's anything you might do to help in the promotion of your work and, by extension, of the gallery itself.

What follows are some examples of the ways those leaves are turning.

1. A small New York gallery has dropped its insurance. "Like most of you, I have had to cut back in many areas to keep my doors open. I can no longer take responsibility for insuring the full retail value of the work I have here on consignment," says this dealer. She gave her artists the option of removing the work or keeping it there. Most wish to remain with the gallery and will take the chance for now. Some may retrieve the larger work and allow the gallery to hold onto a few smaller pieces. (The gallery website can show larger works, which the artist and dealer can arrange to have delivered to the gallery if need be.)

2. A New York-area gallery no longer calls the artists to say a work has been sold. Delivering good news is one of the most pleasurable aspects of a dealer's job, but with staff cutbacks those individual conversations with artists may no longer be possible. While no artist is unhappy with the arrival of a check for artwork sold, one artist posed this question: "If I'm not notified when the work sells, isn't it possible that the money from the sale could be used by the gallery to pay its bills? I could be getting that check months after the fact." Well, yes it's possible. But why assume the worst if your relationship with the gallery has always been good? Communicate! Press for an e-mail notification. (If you can't get at least that, then consider a red flag raised.)

3. Smaller staffs mean more chance for inventory snafus. I keep a visual inventory--a digital contact sheet for each gallery, so that I can see at a glance what the gallery has. At the end of the year, I confirm that the gallery and I have the same information. It happened recently that a painting had been sold during the year but I was never notified or paid. I know the gallery; I've worked with it for years. The dealer paid me as soon as s/he realized that the painting I was asking about had in fact sold. There was no deception intended, but I see more of this kind of thing happening as there are fewer folks to do the administrative work.

4. An out of town gallery is no longer paying to have artists' work shipped to or from the gallery. This is a temporary measure until the economy picks up, I'm told, but what concerns me is the cumulative result all of these changes have on artists. Collectively we're having to assume a greater insurance load or risk, having to pay to ship or deliver, assuming ever greater administrative responsibilities, and operating without knowing if work has sold and thus when we might expect a check. With sales down and foot traffic in the galleries almost non existent, I'm wondering how feasible it is even to show right now.

5. A gallery out west is closing its bricks-and-mortar space and going cyber instead. In a letter to her artists, the director wrote: "The internet will allow us to access a more diverse, global client base throughout the year while dramatically reducing our carbon footprint. Flexibility within our site will permit us to easily introduce new work, present more exhibitions, respond more quickly to the needs of our artists and our clients."

I have no affiliation with this gallery so I feel free to say that while the spin is upbeat, I'm not buying. Carbon footprint or no, this trend makes me nervous. If the gallery does art fairs, OK; the artists' work will continue to be shown in a tangible way. But the Internet is no substitute for the experience of viewing art. The gallery also mentioned running profiles of its artists, and linking to other cultural institutions. Hey, I can do that, and I'm no dealer! What would make this cyber gallery any different from, say, a consultant? And will the dealer continue to take 50% on sales? In interesting turn, for sure.

On a more positive note . . .

6. Curate a gallery show. If you have a collegial relationship with your dealer, propose curating a show. You may not--probably won't--get paid much (or at all) to do it, but the curatorial experience is great. You'll think about art and exhibitions in a more encompassing way. You'll have a good reason to give yourself time to make studio visits. The art karma is great. And with you working on the project, the dealer should find a few extra hours to cultivate collectors, research art fairs or other projects that may ultimately benefit you. You'll have a new category for your resume, too.

7. Curate your own "blogallery." It doesn't have to be about sales so much as keeping your work, and that of artists you respect, in the public eye while your dealer and the economy in general catch their breath. I mean if a former b-and-m gallery can go cyber, so can you. (An interesting related project is Minus Space's Viewlist. I did something similar myself with, Cold? Come Stand Next to These in January, and Armory Fair: Salvage Operation in March.)

Not yet with a gallery? If your e-mails and presentation materials are getting no response, and even your visits to the gallery to see the exhibitions result in no personal interaction, it's entirely possible that in this economy the dealer you're interested in isn't thinking beyond the current lease period. Be patient but active. (See the "blogallery" item, above. )

Consider this an open forum for discussion. How is your gallery changing and how are you adapting to your gallery's changes? Don't tell me gallery names; just discuss the situation. And if you feel more comfortable responding anonymously, that's fine.

Image from the website Delight.com

Paper: Pressed, Stained, Folded, Slashed at MoMA, Part 2

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Last Friday Part 1 of this post appeared. I'd thought I was going to get to Part 2 sooner, but time has its own agenda.

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To recap: Paper: Pressed, Stained, Folded, Slashed contemplates the witty, sumptuous, violent and playful materiality of paper in work by some of the art world's big guns, who were merely pistols when these works were made, mostly in the 1960s and 1970s.

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Above: Robert Rauschenberg, Cardbird VI, 1971

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Standing in the anteroom, where Rauschenberg's Cardbird commands the first look, we peek into the large first gallery. I've included this image so that you can imagine entering the gallery and looking to your left. What you'd see is below: a crumpled drawing by Oldenberg--I'm surprised by how much I like it--and another work, in handmade paper (remember when that was the big thing?) by Rauschenberg.

Claes Oldenberg and Robert Rauschenberg, with closeups below

Oldenberg's Flag to Fold in the Pocket, 1961, ink and crayon on paper, 29.5 x 47 inches, above;

Rauschenberg's, Page 4 from the series Pages and Fuses, 1974, two sheets of handmade paper in plexi frames with twine, each 15 x 20 inches

Lucio Fontana, installation view of four of Six Original Etchings, 1964, portfolio of six embossed etchings; one of the works below


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If you take the time to access the exhibition website, click onto Fontana's Concetto Spaziale (Spatial Concept), a gold accordion book with a visual narrative of negative space. Fontana's work is almost half a century old now, yet it still bristles with enough energy to make you realize just how daring, even transgressive, it was when it was made.

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While you're at it, click onto the navigable view of Lygia Pape's Book of Creation, a collection of gouache-on-paperboard constructions, each 12 x 12 inches. To be honest, the installation suggests a design project, but there are some appealing elements in it, especially the geometry of the detail below:

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Lygia Pape, Book of Creation, 1959-60, gouache on paperboard, each 12 x 12 inches

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It's not all old school. This work by Nancy Rubins, while still 20th Century (1997), is much more contemporary. I hadn't realized how much it has in common with Rauschenberg until now. Good thing I shot the work and its label; it's not on the MoMA website at all. That's an oversite.

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Nancy Rubins, Untitled, 1997, pencil on paper
Detail below

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My favorite is the small work in the second gallery by Howardena Pindell. It's shown below. Hung in an installation with other small works, Untitled (#7) is a sculptural pastiche of the dots from hole-punched paper, thread, and other materials. It's a reconstruction of a deconstruction, a small sculptural plot of process and materiality preserved from the early 1970s. I love it.

Howardena Pindell, Untitled (#7), 1973, ink on punched and pasted paper, talcum powder, and thread on paper; 10 1/8 x 8 3/8 inches

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Wall installation, below, with Pindell's work at the middle right

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Marketing Mondays: The Vanity Gallery

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[Update 3.17.10:
After consulting with an attorney, I have decided to reinstate the name of the venue, Ico Gallery, now located in Chelsea.]

I recently got a cease-and-desist e-letter from a pay-to-show venue in Tribeca threatening me with a lawsuit for slander. It reads in part:

You know nothing of the gallery business. What you teach your students and have posted online is fantasy. It is slander, and if you do not remove our information immediately, we will contact the university and the server of your blog and initiate a lawsuit.

It is unfortunate that so many people are subject to the delusions and propaganda concerning the gallery business, vilifying the very people who are making a difference in the art world today. Do your homework rather than spewing lies. Do you claim to know how prominent gallery's are doing business? You are guessing; shame on you!


Why the letter? Because I posted, on a blog I created for my students, a caveat about vanity galleries, including their letter soliciting business.

Here's how I responded to the gallery: It's not slander if it's true.

In the interest of journalism, let me share with you some of my teaching-blog post along with the essence of their offer. I have removed their name from the letter, which means they cannot actually claim it as their own, which means I have violated no "confidentiality." I have posted a short list of vanity galleries at the end of this post without commentary.

Me:
As we discussed in class, a "vanity gallery"— so called because you pay to show—typically solicits the artist. There is always a financial charge to the artist, typically to be paid up front to the gallery. This financial arrangement distinguishes the vanity gallery from a commercial gallery, which does not charge the artist to show. Below is an example of a vanity gallery's offering to an artist. It was sent unsolicited to a friend of mine.

I have never heard of this gallery, nor ever received an e-mail from them (and as an art blogger I get A LOT of e-mails from galleries). Their "press" page consists of images of the gallery's advertising in various publications. Normally "press" constitutes reviews of the exhibitions. Note particularly the items in red.

Them:
Dear ______,

We recently reviewed your work online and would like to consider you for an upcoming group exhibition at X Gallery. In exchange for your assistance in paying some of your promotional costs, we will feature you in a show here at X Gallery as well as promote your work in print and online for up to 1 year. If you are interested in discussing this opportunity further, I can put you in touch with the gallery Director or the head curator. Details regarding specific exhibitions and marketing plans should be discussed directly with them. Also, we are not negotiable regarding marketing expense or our commission.

Opportunities for solo or small group shows can also be discussed with the director on an individual basis. This letter is not an opportunity to exhibit; it is to express our general interest in working with you.

Gallery Compensation: 50% commission on all sales
Gallery Advertising cost due up front: $2,500

There's more, but you get the picture. No wonder they were concerned that I was commenting on their practices. I'm guessing they don't want to lose their clientele. And they're not alone; there are other galleries with similar arrangements. New York artists know that pay-to-show galleries have no credibility here. Get, say, 20 artists in for a group each month, and there's 50 large to pay the bills, the staff, the gallery expenses. Why bother to sell anything? The money's been made. The galleries are then free to spend their time and effort soliciting the next batch of artists for group--or "solo"--shows.

Legitimate commercial galleries assume the cost of showing an artist's work. They do not solicit for artists; they receive plenty of submission packages.

There are situations in which artists may legitimately pay to show their work—such as the entry fee for a juried show, or membership dues to a co-op gallery—and these options come with some benefits.

. A good juried show (I'm thinking of the annual NYU Small Works show, for instance) attracts a good juror, tpically a New York dealer, critic or curator, and the possibility for networking at the opening. Some artists have found representation, or inclusion in gallery exhibitions, as a result of the exposure.

. The co-op gallery, which typically requires a membership fee, dues, and time requirements, is as the name implies, cooperatively owned and run. You don't give your money to an owner; you are a part owner. Co-op membership comes with a built-in community of artists and an opportunity to present work that doesn't have to be commercially viable. Both can be good opportunities for an emerging artist. Many artists have moved from co-ops to commercial galleries (this is true of gallery directors as well).

Another gallery I know of that solicits artists in a pay-to-show arrangement: Agora Gallery.

Others advertise regularly in the classifieds of the monthly art magazines. The websites of these galleries may not post the financial arrangements, but you you can confirm for yourself the financial nature of the arrangement by letting them know you are "interested" in showing with them. They will lay out their terms.

And check out my blog post, An Offer I CAN Refuse, about a solicitation I received from Gallery Gora in Montreal.

While we're on the topic, who else has received the "invitation to exhibit" at the Bienniale Internationals Dell'Arte Contemporanea in Florence, Italy? Gilbert & George, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, David Hockney and Richard Anuskiewicz have received honors in previous editions of the fair, and Marina Abramovic will be honored this year. The hoi polloi, the not-so-famous artists may participate for the fee of E2700, or something over $3000. Hundreds, I mean hundreds--of artists participated in 2007. An average of 500 artists at 2700 euros is, let me see: one million three-hundred-fifty thousand euros. Nice take. Image from www.florencebiennale.org

Am I being cynical and suspicious? Has anyone participated in this? Please share your experience. Any encouragement or caveats for this blog's readers?

And in general, I encourage you to share what you know for this post. Has anyone ever found themselves in a pay-to-show situation? What was it like? Who has been solicited by a pay-to-show gallery? Do you know of other pay-to-show galleries here or in other cities? Feel free to post anonymously if you're uncomfortable with the topic but have something to say.

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Stayin' Alive: The Auction at Metaphor

The installation clockwise from the front door. Here there are works by Stephanie Brody Lederman, Tim McDowell, Mary Judge, Cecile Chong, Julie Gross and others

The pictures you see here are from the Stayin' Alive auction at Metaphor Contemporary Art in Brooklyn. The auction, which benefits the exhibition program at the gallery during these hardscrabble economic times, features the work of many artists who have been involved with the gallery.

First, a disclaimer: I've donated work to the show.
(While I'm not generally a fan of donating art--too many artists get tapped far too often--I am a believer in supporting a few events and causes. This is one of them.)

Second, a comment: I want them all!
OK, so that's not going to happen, but I have been bidding, and so have others. As I understand it--and the auction site will explain it better than I, after the online bidding closes, there will be a live auction on Tuesday night, at which time--I think--work will be taken home by the lucky winning bidders.

I talked about this project a month ago in the context of other galleries that have come up with interesting, and often interactive, ways to keep their doors open. The installation pictures you see here are shown clockwise from the front door, starting from the image above that opens the post.

Tell me: is this not a fabulous installation? Artists are identified on the auction website. Here there are works by Loren Munk, Matthew Deleget, Julian Jackson (a co-owner of the gallery, with Rene Lynch), and Gabriele Evertz. Can you find my small square red painting in the picture above?

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As we swing around visually, the wall with the blue and green work, below, faces you as you walk in. Here there are works by Rene Lynch, Ward Jackson, Margaret Neill and Gabe Brown

Continuing around, we come to the black and white wall with works by, among others, Kate Beck and Marietta Hoferer. OK, so I'm noting all the artists whose work I want
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Two views of the Project Space up on the mezzanine. Above, tooking toward the front of the gallery. Below, looking in the opposite direction

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Paper: Pressed, Stained, Slashed, Folded at MoMA, Part 1

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The works-on-paper gallery on the second floor of the Museum of Modern Art is one of the museum's best-kept secrets. Not that it's hidden or that people don't go into it, but compared to the hordes that visit the higher-profile spaces, this is a quiet oasis in which to contemplate work that is typically quieter and smaller than elsewhere in the building.

Above: Entrance to the exhibition

The exhibitions, often organized by Starr Figura, a curator in the Prints and Drawings department, are always good. (A while back I did a four-part report on Geo/Metric, another impressive exhibition curated by Figura, with Kathleen Curry, and which included the Dorothea Rockburne folded prints that are in this show. ) Because all the work is in the museum's collection, photography is allowed.

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This time the exhibition looks at the materiality of paper. The title spells out the curatorial parameters: Paper: Pressed, Stained, Slashed, Folded. Well, that's not exactly true; it's also ripped, pinned, crumpled, punched, printed, stitched, embedded and handmade. But you get the picture. There are papier mache cylinders by Eva Hesse, a mid-size graphite assemblage by Nancy Rubins that's pushpinned to the wall, the surprise of a crumpled sheet of ink-stained paper by Claes Oldenburg, and a whole lot more. Much of the work is from the 1960s and 70s, so I suppose it officially qualifies as "art history."

The exhibition is up until June 22, so you have time to see it if you're so inclined. If you can't, an interactive flash site shows you more work than I can show you here, often with closeups but without the installation shots. (By the way, am I the only person who hates MoMA's new website? I find it to have entirely too much Flash--too many bells, whistles, graphics, and boxes, changing images, drop-downs and pop-ups.)

Let's start in the anteroom with Robert Rauschenberg, then peek into the large first gallery. After we've made a tour of the room, we'll return to the anteroom to see wortk by Tapies and LeWitt.

In the anteroom: Robert Rauschenberg, Cardbird Series, 1971, photolithograph and screenprint on corrugated cardboard with tape additions, app. 26 x 27 inches
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Far wall, from left: Richard Smith, image and info below; Dorothea Rockburne, Locus, 1972, series of six relief etching and aquatints on folded paper, each app. 40 x 30 inches.

On platform, above: Eva Hesse, Repetition Nineteen 1, 1967, paint and papier-mache on aluminum screening, each app. 9 to 10.5 high and 6 to 9 inches diameter

Below: Richard Smith, Diary, 1975, screenprint on seven sheets with punched-hole additions and string, each app. 20 x 21 inches

Another view of Rockburne's Locus and Hesse's Repetition Nineteen 1 . . .


. . . and details of each

Moving around the gallery, to the right of the Rockburnes is Giuseppe Penone, Fingernail Scratches (Unghiate), 1986, plaster on four sheets of torn paper, 55 x 79 inches total, with the work isolated below

As you face this work by Penone, on the wall past your right shoulder is the work below:

Sol LeWitt, Untitled, 1974, folded paper with pencil, 14 x 14 inches plus frame

Back in the anteroom just to the right of the Rauschenberg, is Anular, an illustrated book with 23 etchings, by the Catalan painter Antoni Tapies

Details are below and below that

In Part 2, which I'll post soon, we'll look into the smaller galleries. I have a lot more to show you, including my favorite work in the show--by Howardena Pindell. .

Batter Up

I'm not big on waffles, but I brake for grids, so this solo show by Martha Friedman at Wall Space Gallery on West 27th Street stopped me short. Called The Organization of Batter, it features gridded forms in cast paper (from actual waffle irons, I think) , cast rubber and carved marble. Aunt Jemima on steroids. Mmmm. Pass that conceptual syrup. The show is up through this Saturday, May 19.

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Cast paper, individual work above, from the installation below (Sorry, I can't give you more about each work. I didn't take notes, and the gallery's website doesn't have info.)

The large works are cast rubber. I love how the grid emerges out of virtual nothingness. It's almost religious (and I say this as a waffle atheist).
The smaller, more fully dimensional forms are carved marble. Better shot below:

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Marketing Mondays: Are There Too Many Artists?

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On last week's post about the M.F.A. , a commenter asked this question: Are there too many artists?

My kneejerk response: It's not that there are too many artists, but that there are not enough galleries.

Image from Ionarts taken by Mark, at Metro Pictures during Postcards From the Edge

True, the art schools are cranking out artists with B.F.A. degrees. And when those B.F.A.ers can't find galleries or reasonable employment, many go back to school for an M.F.A. Then not only do we have unrepresented artists, we have overqualified unemployment.

But looking more deeply, I think it's valid to assume that not every person who goes to art school will become an artist. Many gallery owners and directors have studied art. The same is true for critics and arts writers; curators (independent and regularly employed); as well as consultants and private dealers. Collectors, too. We operate along a continuum, from the folks who make the art to those who show and sell it, to those to acquire it for their homes, businesses and museums. All of those eyes and brains have gotten an art education, even if they didn't end up as artists.

And not every artist will go after New York gallery representation, or big-city gallery representation, or commercial gallery representation, period. There are many artists who are happily showing in co-op venues or in non-profits or who, while unshown in New York, have solid regional careers. There are artists who run studio/galleries, tyically in summer-resort or winter-vacation areas. There are artists, often academically employed, whose careers revolve around solo (and catalogued) exhibitions in regional museums and academic galleries. Still others fold artmaking into a life lived fully and creatively away from the conventional venues and scenes.

While I think it's true there are more artists than will ever find the kind of representation they want, there are never too many artists. We're resiliant, inventive and entrepreneurial. If we can't find a place for ourselves, we invent one, carve one out, will one into existence. That's my take, anyway.

What about you? Do you think there are too many artists?
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Women in Print

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The Susan Sheehan Gallery in Chelsea specializes in prints. The recent Women in Print show was focused on the work of well-known women painters, and some sculptors, who are also known for their prints. The bad news: The show is over and the gallery website doesn't have a visual record of it. The good news: I do, and I have some installation images to share with you.

Let's peek in:

A view into the gallery

Three counterclockwise from right: Polly Apfelbaum, Lover's Leap, 2007, multicolor woodblock print (edition of 35: $15,000); Kate Shepherd, Imagined Evening Day, Blue Brick Stage, 2004, silkscreen (edition of 45: $2300); Karen Davie, Indivisibles #1, 2007, inkjet pigment print (edition of 35: $3900)

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Note: I'm including the prices because I think it's interesting to see how they range among artists, and in relation to the edition number.

Continuing down the long wall

Mary Heilman, top: All Night Movie, 1991, etching on handmade paper (edition of 30: $1850) and Mint Print, 1998, etching (edition of 40: $3600); Susan McClelland, Mr. Man, 2001, intaglio in two colors (edition of 23: $2950); Joanne Greenbaum, Twizzler, 2008, etching and aquatint (edition of 12: $3150)

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Pat Steir, Silver Waterfall, five-color screenprint, and Wolf Waterfall, two-color screenprint, both 2001 (each, edition of 35: $5800)

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Below

Agnes Martin, On a Clear Day, 1973, portfolio of 30 screenprints (edition of 50 + proofs: $165,000)

In the second gallery

Louise Bourgeois, Autobiographical Series, 1994, portfolio of 14 etchings with aquatint and drypoint (edition of 35+ 10 APs: $50,000)

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Back in the first gallery, swinging around to the left wall

Counterclockwise: Elizabeth Murray, Shoe String, 1993, three-dimensional lithograph (edition of 70+proofs: $10,000); Lee Bontecou,Untitled, 1967, etching (edition of 144+proofs: $4500); two by Joan Mitchell, top: Untitled (Purple, Gray, Black, White), 1959 and Untitled (Black, Crimson), 1959-60, both color silkscreen (each edition of two printers proofs: $3500); Helen Frankenthaler, East and Beyond, 1973, woodcut (edition of 18: $75,000). Additionally, but difficult to see: Lee Krasner and Grace Hartigan

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By the way, don't even think of asking "Where are the men's art shows." I have no intention of getting pulled into that discussion, though I realize that unrepresented males probably feel similarly disenfranchised (until they get their gallery). Suffice it to say that here in the 21st Century, the artist pyramid which starts in art school with more female students ends in the New York galleries with far more men being shows and represented. Actually, in the galleries, it's more like a ziggurat. The real pyramid is in the museums.

Go, women!

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Milhazes in the Window

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Lately it seems as if the James Cohan Gallery is showing all Milhazes all the time. I'm not complaining. The work is joyful and visually intoxicating. I tried to photograph the installation in the small window-facing gallery, but some guy with a giant head was chatting up a collector type--blah, blah, blah--and they just wouldn't budge from their spot in front of the work. So I shot above their heads to get the two pics you see here.



Then I went to the gallery website and found a nice installation shot, which I have taken the liberty of reproducing here. I guess more than anything else I've seen in the past few weeks, this work personifies the new season--well, the season that arrived but has been in hiding for the past few days. Spring!

Gamboa, 2008, iron and mixed media, 27.6 in tall x 45.7 in diameter
Image from the gallery website

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Marketing Mondays: The M.F.A.

We're entering graduation month, so it seems appropriate to ask: When did the M.F.A. become so important? And to whom, exactly, is it important?

Colloquially known as "More Fucking Artists," the Master of Fine Arts degree has become--depending on your point of view:
. essential for a career as an exhibiting artist
. a way to avoid the pressure of showing art in the real world
. an invaluable educational experience
. a colossal waste of money
. network central
. a clique with you on the outside
. the best thing you could do for your career
. a debt that virtually assures you'll never be able to buy a home

The days are gone—and they were few to begin with—when dealers would swoop into the M.F.A. studios of a big-city institution, select a student and then create a career for her, or more likely, him.

If you want to teach, yes, the M.F.A. is essential. But consider this: If every M.F.A. graduate expects to teach, there will need to be more and more students—an educational Ponzi pyramid. Think you're going to get a cushy job in a major city? Think again. Unless you have a great career already, your options will be limited to universities in Podunk, Wahoo, and Boondock Corners. OK, that's extreme, but don't plan on teaching in New York, OK? And once you get tenure in Podunk, you're cemented in there.

As for dealers, when I ask how important this terminal degree is when they're considering an artist, every one I have spoken to says, in almost these exact words: "It's about the work." Daniel, a Chelsea dealer, says unequivocally that it makes "no difference." Edward, also a Chelsea dealer, qualifies his "no difference" with the comment that, "It shows me an artist is serious about his/her career." In other words, an M.F.A. might enhance your chances if you have a chance to begin with. Might.

I want to hear from all you artists out there, but in this post I though I would talk to two painters who are also dealers. Both Miles Conrad and Kathleen O'Hara can address the topic in a way that few others can.

Miles Conrad, a partner in the Conrad Wilde Gallery in Tucson, has a newly minted M.F.A. from the San Francisco Art Institute. Here's what he has to say:
. "As an artist, it was a grueling and vulnerable experience that was absolutely necessary for me to undertake in order to move my work forward. I learned a lot about myself in the process and my work has evolved. "
. "As a gallery director/curator I am most impressed by strong, coherent work from any source. An M.F.A. is not part of our criteria when evaluating work, but we do consider those factors when making hard decisions and distinctions among equally strong candidates."

Kathleen O'Hara, a partner in the OHT Gallery in Boston, says, "The two years I spent in graduate school were a pivotal phase in my life."
. As an artist: "I think it varies from artist to artist, but for me the process of earning my M.F.A. confirmed my commitment to being a professional artist/curator. Having few expectations other than that I would be provided the opportunity to work in depth with good people, helped. Two years of working in a studio environment with fellow students and faculty artists seemed like a dream come true for me, since I had been out of school for a couple of years working 9-5 for a commercial printer."
. As a dealer: "As co-director at OHT, I agree that it's all about the work. But I also have to say that the overwhelming majority of our artists have an MFA or BFA degree...."

If you're in an M.F.A. program for the opportunity to grow as an artist in a supportive environment, you'd better make sure you pick a school that will support you. If the institution is all about new media and you're a painter, oops, bad choice. (This is the situation my friend J encountered, but she stuck it out because she needed that degree to keep her job.) If what you want is to eventually support yourself through the sale of your art or if you're a woman, better make sure you won't be dealing with old-school professors who believe that selling well means selling out, or that women don't "deserve" the same career as men. (Yes, they're still out there.) Ask around. Choose wisely.

In the interest of transparency, I have an M.A. in Visual Arts from Goddard College. I got it when the terminal degree was less important than it is now. It was a low-residency program, which allowed me to continue working to support myself. Perhaps for that reason, I have not found it nearly as helpful as my own hard work. It's important to note that I'm not interested in academia as a career (though I love the professional development course I teach—one, I might add, that has nothing to do with a degree and everything to do with actual experience).

So what about you: Do you have an M.F.A? Was it worth the time and expense? Has it helped you? If you don't have one, do you feel held back by the lack of the degree? If you're a dealer or curator, does an advanced degree make a difference to you when you're considering an artist or is it "all about the work?"

Image taken from the Internet: Arm and Leg charm by Amanda Jo
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