Like a Flounder
by Russ Cushman
If the art market were a garden, we would have just suffered a terrible drought. Last year we planted all kinds of things with high hopes, and the drought came and killed those hopes and even some long established plants. It was nothing that we had done wrong...we planted and watered and worked extra hard, but nothing was going to turn the power of a scorching Texas drought. And our professional art “garden” has endured a similar kind of disaster.
Still, there were spots on the landscape which prospered. For whatever reason, they survived and yielded fruit. And the art market garden had similar parallels there too. I could not move my yard to find better soil or weather, but I could move my art market, and so I began to scout around. Everybody cannot do this, or even wants to, but I write this purely to express this one major finding: There is still a garden in the art world. And you have to muscle your way in. Or in my case, think like a flounder.
Almost every diligent, creatively determined survivor in the art market has already found their niche for surviving this drought. The art retail spaces left are packed and overflowing, and to get into a decent art gallery, somebody has to die first. Artists are not causing any trouble in their chosen galleries, but gratefully hunkering down. They understand that this drought is not going away. Really, my analogy needs to shift here to the art market being transported to Venus. We are on Venus and the daytime temp is something over 800 degrees. The sun blares down, and there will be no return to Earth, where there are happy green things growing. We have to adjust to a totally different reality. Or perish.
But the good news for the surviving Venusian artists is that in this horrible environment, art works are even more of a panacea. If only the people were not dehydrated, sun-burned and sun-blind. Some of the earth-borne migrants actually get out of the security of their air-conditioned cubicles to venture into your retail space and fall in love with a human-made icon of hope. And they buy it with their last dry, bleached dollar. Ugh.
Well, let's go back to Earth now; that scenario depresses me. Our world already looks better, doesn't it? But things have changed so much, so rapidly, that few folks have even recognized or cared that there is no longer the little art shop in the neighborhood. No longer art classes in the public schools. No longer swanky art galleries in the high-end malls. No longer art galleries anywhere, except in a few “green spots” around the country. And the old established art markets are shriveling up, hanging on a makeshift raft like survivors of the Titanic. No one noticed there were no headlines announcing the demise of art and artists and art markets. Nobody noticed these tragedies among all of the changes, distractions and disruptions in their lives. Nobody except us.
And there is our opportunity. Today, people are going to discover art just like our grandparents or great-grandparents did; totally clueless. They will come upon it fresh, ignorant, and unprepared. They will stare at it as if it is an oddity. They will scoff at the price of such a thing which does not fit their needs or expectations. Then they will go home and the beauty or the power of the art will nag at them, or appear when they close their eyes. They won't be able to shake it, because people cannot easily shake a message from soul to soul. And they will come back for a second look. Some will be compelled to dig in their pockets and find a credit card not yet maxed out....
I searched the art market, and enjoyed the exchange, but at my age the shows were tolerable but exhausting. And the art galleries were either pitiful or unpleasantly cluttered. Or I just did not fit in. So I began to explore other venues. I found a jewelry shop which had a few paintings on the walls. Some of them were not even for sale, but they added charm. The jeweler agreed to hang my work---but just four pieces. I was thrilled. It was not an art gallery, but it was wall space, with enough traffic to justify positive expectations. And when you are on Venus, sometimes that is all you have left. What did I have to lose?
It turns out my painting buddy agrees with my choice. Art depends on a couple of things, but “art buyers” are not one of them. He agrees with me that very few folks consider themselves art buyers. Art buyers often do not know that they are. They are tourists, honeymooners, or busy shoppers looking for something else. Then a piece of art stops them in their tracks.
Nobody gets up in the morning and announces, “I'm going to go buy a masterpiece today.” No, they get up and read the news and get depressed and then go somewhere relative to their survival. That might be a junk shop, or even a jewelry store (need a gift for a special loved one) but they will rarely go look at art on purpose. Art is and has always been probably the most extravagant impulse purchase in our economy. All it requires is adequate viewing space and tons of walk-in traffic. Tons.
My buddy surmised that the jewelry shop was a far more promising venue than the elegant art gallery in town... where few people went. It took a while, but the presence of my art took root and we have sold several paintings, and the jeweler has now expanded my offerings. Now I will have to die before somebody gets my wall space!
Talking strictly business here, you have to pick a green spot of hope. A spot that for some reason or another enjoys lots of visitation. The jewelry shop where I show is in Salado, Texas, a popular tourism destination. There are others, but Salado is one of the most accessible, situated right on I-35 between Waco and Austin. And more importantly, Salado still has a community of veteran art galleries surviving there, as large as some major cities. Half a dozen artist-owned and operated art studio/galleries are found on or very near the main drag. Every kind of art is available. Sporting and wildlife, Texas landscape, surrealism, abstract expressionism... pottery, glass blowing, you name it. The key here is the artist-owned part.
These are not wealthy folks toying with a tax-write off, these are seasoned artisans fighting for survival----and surviving. They have proven their staying power, mostly because of years developing their clientele. The abstract artist is one of the most successful artists in Texas, quietly selling circles around the rest of her peers in eastern markets. Another offers a stellar collection of producing artists which represents the “biggest” names on the Texas art scene.
Anybody interested in art in Texas has found this “art town” long ago, and there are few other places to go. They will come to town, kick around the galleries, and pondering a purchase, step into a jewelry shop to think about another large investment they just found at a nearby gallery, and BAM. Like a flounder at the bottom of the sea floor, I will be waiting for them.
enough