Five random thoughts on Art and Collecting.

Albrecht (Whatever you feel like today)

Albrecht Dürer was the fellow in the early 1500s who established the art form of printmaking. You may have seen his extremely detailed woodcut rendition of a rhinoceros. Super talented.

Also, his last name is sometimes spelled “Durer” or Duerer.” This is great, because for years, I have gone back and forth between spelling my (first) name either “Joseph” or “Josef,” depending on my whim of the day.

"I can pay you in dollars, or Bitcoin, or Banksy."

Art consultants

I love art. Art in many forms. Some immediately grabs me, others take a while. Oftentimes I don’t resonate with a piece at all. That’s okay. By definition, art means something different to everyone, and if everyone reacted the same, or if I liked every painting or sculpture equally, that would diminish what my opinion meant. I try to find something interesting or meaningful about any piece I look at when it’s evident the creator has invested their imagination and sweat and skill throughout the process. Even if I’m not drawn to the final rendition, I can still appreciate a) the process or b) some specific details about it.

That being said, the role of “art consultant” is a mystifying position to me. A quasi-mythological one that feels like it’s represented in films and television, but is there really such a thing? Apparently there is, and at least the representation of Art Consultants in stories leads me to believe they are quite wealthy, successful, and in demand.

Everybody lives in a world and community that seems normal-ish to them if immersed in it long enough. No matter how good or how bad life is, when something’s a part of you long enough, it becomes a sort of normal. I would imagine that the super-rich generally spend a fair amount of time around other super-rich, because there’s more common ground, and maybe there’s less fighting over split checks at expensive restaurants and stuff. I don’t know. Point is, a lot of the time you get used to the socioeconomics of what’s around you for a while.

The idea of people being so busy and so wealthy that they would hire someone to fill white walls with beautiful art is so strange to me.

It seems to me if you’re that ‘successful’ (in the field you’re in) and wealthy, and if Art was important to you…wouldn’t you want to fill white walls with art that made you feel something?

I suppose this could be extrapolated to any number of other disciplines or titles, such as interior decorator, but my intent is not for it to be extrapolated. I mean it in this specific scenario only. And I say it with curiosity rather than judgment: I simply have difficulty understanding the role of art consultant; at least to the degree that I understand what art consultants do:

find pretty pictures to hang on white walls.

Enlighten me. I shall listen.

Authorship, Investment, Intent

I’ve been delving conceptually into trying to understand blockchain over the last few years (since 2017), and the cryptocurrency markets that piggyback on it. The whole notion of inherent value has led me to many back and forth questions about how we attach value to something, such as fiat (“regular currency,” like the dollar), crypto, or fine art.

The idea of investing in art has long been curious to me as well. I hear so and so referenced as “a collector with immaculate taste,” or “an art collector with an acute sensibility for picking art that appreciates in value.” That sort of thing. I can’t quite wrap my mind around that.

A Van Gogh or Picasso or Basquiat or Banksy is worth a hundred dollars, or a million dollars, or a hundred million dollars because of attribution. Because of their authorship. Their signature. It’s not the Art (after a certain point). It’s the Artist.

Is a canvas with some paint on it inherently worth $100 million? No one would argue that case, in a vacuum (that could be an interesting meta-art project: a photograph of an original Picasso being suctioned in up pieces into a Dyson).

Perhaps one of the psychological components is that of intent. Artists often struggle to experiment and find fresh expressions of their voice: New processes, new materials, new styles, and it’s sometimes difficult to know what an artist or author’s intent is. Regardless of tone, is it a serious attempt to create or imagine something unique, or is it intended as parody or irony? No collector wants to be viewed as the butt of a joke - “Oh, that’s the fellow who paid $ten million for the banana peel on the wall!”

On the other hand, nobody wants to feel like they missed out on something at the beginning.

Kind of like Bitcoin.

(or Cardano, currently dropped to $1.15 on this crypto crash weekend; thanks Jonny Long).

Two 20th century artists I enjoy

David Hockney | I know, everyone loves Mr. Hockney. There’s a reason. His endless love of experimenting with simple techniques and returning to the same subject matter over and over in different ways; his vivid colors as he renders California sunsets and symbols; his gently messy pencil or crayon dash-off portraits.

Roy Liechtenstein | I love his love of comic strips and their potential in fine art and expression, and how his simple dots and lines convey simple concepts or narratives that need no additional explanation.

Pablo Picasso
Robert Rauschenberg

Two 20th century artists I struggle to enjoy

Frank Stella | I have trouble finding an evolution throughout his collection; though I can appreciate his harmonious, rhythmic compositions.

Jaspar Johns | I appreciate how he pushes his audience to examine familiar symbols with fresh perspectives.