Well, once again the fever is upon me and I’m ready to bare my soul and offend another great swath of those of you who might have bought some of our paintings except for the anger my ill considered opinions will soon ignite within you. Thanks both for the complimentary and condemnatory emails my last tirade invoked. It’s interesting hearing everyone’s thoughts on these maters and my mind is certainly not set – heck, I changed my mind from peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then to cheeseburger, to spaghetti, and finally back to peanut butter and jelly, just in deciding what to have for lunch! No, wait, it was a Gyros... or was it…?

Why people buy Art      9-20-2005

            The way I see it, there are four basic reasons that people buy Art.

1.                  The artwork moves you.

2.                  For investment.

3.                  Someone tells you to.

4.                  To help the artist.

It’s really as simple as that. All the dozens of reasons I hear people talk about can be placed in one of these four categories. Sometimes collectors are buying a painting based solely on one of the four, but most of the time it is a combination of several if not all of these reasons at once. Conversely, certain paintings appeal more to some of these reasons than others, and it can be an interesting study determining which of the reasons might apply to the buyer of particular paintings and even whole Artistic Movements.

Let’s take each of these four categories and consider them individually.

The artwork moves you. This seems very straightforward. You see a work of art and it literally stops you in your tracks. Your heart beats faster, you “get it;” you feel the emotion that the artist felt when they were inspired to create their work and it so inspires you that you wish to own it so you can feel this uplifting emotion every time you look at it, be it an original painting, a print, book, or computer screen-saver.

To me this is the purest of reasons to buy Art and it makes me both happy that I’ve succeeded so well with a painting or sculpture that someone reacts this way to it, as well as feeling a little guilty since asking money for something so emotional seems like sacrilege. When someone is so deeply moved by a work but then realizes that they cannot afford it, it’s heart wrenching to see the depression that follows (I have felt this myself many times with other artist’s paintings and sculptures.) At such times, you wish you could just give away the painting since you know how much more meaningful it would be to them than to most anyone else.  

Within this category also falls subject matter. I’ve heard some deride anyone who buys a painting for the subject matter as well as witnessed galleries pressure artists to paint subjects that they know will sell easily. There’s just simply no way around the fact that each and every one of us have complex emotional baggage that we bring to our viewing of art. At a recent show of paintings from Tibet, one of our friends who’d traveled to Tibet herself was brought to tears at the sight of faces that so reminded her of people she’d met there nearly twenty years ago.

"A Pilgrim's Prayer" oil 36" by 22" - Tibet

 Just as every artist will bring a personal interpretation to every subject, so will every viewer see the very same paintings differently. This is true, incidentally with all art, be it a poem, symphony, architecture, etc.

I could write an entire essay on the subject of subject matter but the main truth is this. Yes, collectors will be influenced by the subject matter, both positively and negatively, but paintings, sculptures, etc. only transcend their materials when they are used to capture the unique viewpoint of one individual and convey it to another.  Some paintings will speak to millions and other to just one or even only to the artist themselves, but you are cheating yourself when you “paint for the market” rather than using your artwork as a catalyst of self exploration and discovery. Not all of us will achieve the level of Rembrandt, but it will be unique and worthwhile if we follow our own hearts whether we are working on comic books, designing model planes, or displaying in galleries. The trick is to first find what subjects interests you and then find the commercial outlet for your talent, not the other way around.

I can’t tell you what subject is purely conceived and what isn’t since they are different for each of us (though it’s usually obvious.) One person might become enormously famous painting purple skunks with flowers in their hair because they are absolutely obsessed with their own pet skunk. As the purple skunk craze sweeps the nation all the galleries start pressuring their artists to also paint purple skunks, but none are really as good since no one else’s heart is truly in it. Which isn’t to say that a second, skunk-loving artist should keep from painting skunks because “it’s already been done.” If you have a true passion for even the most oft-painted subject matter, you will interpret it uniquely.

Some from the Abstract school of art will have us believe that any subject that can actually be identified as a subject is pandering, to which I have to wonder what one can be saying if their subject is nothing?

For investment. The pure Art investor certainly cares nothing for the actual work of art itself. How ridiculous would one look if they choose stocks based on their emotional reaction to the color of paper the certificates were printed on? Artwork is many things, but it is also a commodity, an object that by general consensus can be exchanged for a particular number of pieces of paper with green ink printed on it in a certain pattern (yet another commodity with a worth only due to general consensus.) This complicates the appreciation of art greatly since it means that, unlike gold or oil, its value isn’t measurable in any absolute manner.

This was made very clear to us when Susan’s father bought a beautiful old painting of a woman holding flowers. The gallery explained that, because it was unsigned and the artist unidentified, it was practically worthless and sold it to him for $400. 

He didn’t care that it was worthless, since he knew it was beautiful and that was enough for him. When he had it cleaned and revarnished by a professional restorer who used to work for the Art Institute, the man immediately recognized the artist as Adolphe Piot, a French artist who studied under Bouguereau, and showed him where the artist had signed the painting (many artists back then used to hide their signatures within the painting so as to not take away from the composition). Christies appraised the painting between ten to sixteen thousand dollars, so what had been worthless was now highly valued due to the couple of brush strokes that required absolutely no artistic training, the signature. Once again, I noticed that this drastic revaluation had not changed the painting one bit – it was a masterpiece then and still is!

Our society is especially impressed by money and often confuses the price with inherent quality. Sometimes the price does reflect the quality of the work of art and other times it does not.

During one show at the Palette and Chisel in my student days, I noticed a large abstract painting that attracted an impressive crowd of admirers around it. Listening in on the crowd’s awed whispers about the painting, I realized that they were dazzled by the quarter of a million dollar price tag on the painting, assuming that something “worth” that much money must be a true masterpiece and deserved extra attention. One of them even confided to me that they were able to see it was by far the best painting in the exhibit (even better than the large Richard Schmid painting, which was a mere twenty thousand dollars.) What none of them knew was that the artist that painted that work had never sold a painting in their life. They might just as well have put a price of two million on it as anything else and drawn an even bigger crowd!

The moral of this story is that if you want to impress people, price your paintings high. You’re laughing, but what if someone walked into the show and actually bought this painting? Would that have changed the painting? Would it then have been better than the Schmid? I personally would have liked Richard’s painting in the show the best no matter what his or the other paintings sold for. In this particular show his was the most expensive painting that actually sold (though it only sold later at a gallery), but I’ve seen other shows where what I considered the best painting didn’t sell at all when others that I thought horrible sold for vast sums.

I think these stories give some idea of why it is so difficult investing in art. The quality of art is but one factor in determining whether or not the price will rise. Some artist's work becomes valuable based mainly on its artistic superiority and sometimes isn’t even recognized in their own time, while others may become famous because of their outrageous personality, or the fact that they were celebrities in their own right before creating their works. Notice how almost any movie star can have a show of their first-time paintings and sell them for more than most artists who’ve painted all their lives. If selling paintings for their maximum amount is the goal I’d have to counsel those of you contemplating art school to switch immediately to acting lessons!

But joking aside, even though predicting all of what will go up in price is somewhat iffy when you include some of the crazy things that sell for millions of dollars these days, I do firmly believe that true quality will always be valued, if not the absolute highest, rarely below its current value. I had no money in art school so couldn’t buy any Schmid’s, Fechin’s, Payne’s, or any of the dozen other artists that were very reasonable at that time (and still are), but I did encourage many collectors I knew to do so and all of them that listened never let me forget how good my advice was.

The Schmid painting that sold for twenty thousand back then would probably now sell for one hundred thousand, but even if it hadn’t gone up a cent, just think of being able to look at something so awe inspiring for twenty years! That is the true worth of art. This is why so few of the collectors I meet (that buy realistic art at least) are purely in it for investment. When you buy stock or have your money in a bank, it’s just a number and if the stock goes bust you’re left with absolutely nothing, but if you buy a painting that you love and enhances your life, you will never be left empty handed no matter the rise or fall in price.

To be an investor you need to buy low and sell high. We have bought many paintings that have gone up a great deal in value, but we could never bring ourselves to sell any of them, therefore we will never make any money on any but our own paintings, disqualifying ourselves as “art investors” since what someone else will pay you for your painting is only relevant if you will sell it. They are precious to us in a way a no investment could ever be and we love when our own paintings go to people who feel the same.

As an artist, however, we know that this arbitrary value of paintings is important to some degree to most collectors so it’s very important to keep your prices consistent and not jump way up in price too quickly. Once you go up, you can’t go back down without upsetting any of the collectors who bought your paintings at the higher prices and the goal is not to become rich but just to make enough to keep painting. Some artists obsess over the fact that the real fortunes made on their paintings will be made in the secondary market by others, but the true rewards to any artist aren’t monetary so I tend to feel that any collector who makes a profit on my paintings in the future deserves it for taking a chance on me and helping me to keep painting now and in the future.

The idea of investing in art is one of the most abused parts of the art world and can make for some very pathetic scams. We had some workers from the local power company out one time and, upon seeing I was an artist, one of them told me that he collected a lot of Thomas Kinkade prints. He said he bought three of each new print and put them under his bed in a box for safe keeping since he expected that this “investment” was what was going to send his son to college someday. This tore at my heart since I knew full well that so called “limited” edition prints (some of the editions were in the tens of thousands) would likely be worthless over the long term, but he’d been convinced by the clever marketing and deceptive sales tactics of the gallery he bought these from. His belief was as absolute as any cult member and to try and convince him otherwise would be impossible at this point since he’d invested so much by then.

This has nothing to do with the quality of the paintings being reproduced, mind you, since that is purely subjective, but simply a fact of economics. When you print twenty thousand reproductions of something and call it “limited” and convince someone to buy it based on the idea that it will go way up in value, you are little more than a snake-oil salesman in my opinion, no matter what is being reproduced. Even when it comes to buying an original painting, which there will always be only one of, you’d better really know what you’re doing if you are buying it for investment purposes and I cringe every time I hear a gallery sell a painting to a novice collector on that basis alone. There are so many other good reasons to buy art than investment, so why not do so for them and if your works go up in value it is merely a bonus.

Don’t get me wrong about prints. There are many truly limited editions that probably will go up in value and I love buying prints myself, though not for investment, but merely to have a great reproduction of an inspiring painting that I could never afford the original of. When editions and prices both rise into the thousands, however, and the word “investment” gets thrown around a lot, I’d beware!

Someone tells you to.   Few people feel confident enough to completely trust their own judgments so we look for advice from "experts," be they Art magazines, gallery owners, critics, and museums. All of us are susceptible to this, whether it be simply the fashion of our clothes, hairstyle, or even what car we drive. Looking smart, cultured, and impressing others will always play a part in marketing expensive objects and Art is no different, though there is an interstate of distance between those who buy solely for this reason, and those who are just mildly influenced by it.

The fact of being published in an art magazine or winning awards reassures collectors that they aren’t going out on a limb and buying something others will think them stupid for liking.  I’ve attended many exhibitions where, once the award for best of show is announced, a crowd of people rush over to the winning painting to buy it even though they could have bought it for several hours already. Why are they so swayed by what this one judge thought? Had there been another judge, there would probably have been a different winner. I suspect that most of those people already liked the winning painting, but just needed that extra reassurance that their instinct was correct.

No one likes to look stupid and a large part of the “Modern” art industry has thrived by exploiting this most fundamental of human characteristics to its extreme. It works two ways. First, if you stand before a large, abstract painting and say, “I don’t get it,” you will receive a rather long-winded explanation requiring multiple dips in a dictionary, a few cups of coffee to keep from nodding off, as well as an occasional electric shock. If you still are confused, you will receive the not-so-subtle response that not everyone is smart enough to “get it.” You will be made to feel stupid and you will slink away in shame and cross the street every time you see black clad socialites descending on some chic celebration of newly anointed “genius.” When people say, “Picasso was the ultimate genius!” you will nod in agreement to avoid people suspecting your horrible secret. After all, these are the experts so the deficit must surely lie in your shrunken, maladapted brain, right?

For those of you that listen to the nonsensical “explanation” of why such and such a painting is a masterpiece, and nod thoughtfully, throwing in a few, “yes, I see’s” and even a few “post-post-Dada-color-field-eggs-over-easy-post-modernism" catchphrases, you will have entered the club of the initiated, the main bonus of which is a feeling of superiority over most of the rest of society not mentally adept enough to “get it.”  Even those that see it for the sham it is cannot say so outright for fear of being labeled (as I will no doubt be by the many e-mails that will flood in after I post this diatribe) ignorant, ignorant, ignorant!

There is a price, however, to be admitted to the higher levels of this exalted club as you must occasionally prove your understanding and the depth of your belief by paying vast amounts of money for blank canvas, balls of twine, and even the occasional “performance art” that would be cause for arrest if not conducted under the guise of “Art” in the sacred sanctuary of the Soho Gallery/Temple. This is the ultimate stamp of unarguable proof that no one who calls themselves a capitalist can argue with – money. Just as with the artist at the Palette and Chisel who priced their work so high and achieved instant respect, to actually sell paintings for those prices is even more impressive and conclusive!      

The friend I’d mentioned earlier who’d been to Tibet twenty years ago also told me something that illustrates the power of this cult nicely. When she used to work in the upper echelons of the New York fashion industry, she regularly attended the latest modern art shows, even though she disliked the work and knew it was a sham. When I asked her why she went, she explained there was no way around it, that in her business she had to seem to be knowledgeable about such things or people would think her ignorant of art or simply unhip.

For those who’ve been properly indoctrinated, the process is completely unconscious and leads to some absurd situations. The curator of the Museum of Modern Art in Chicago once showed me with awe the wall-sized painting that had won best abstract work of the year and been acquired by the museum for something around a million dollars I think it was (no doubt taxpayer’s). There was a television next to the painting showing the artist painting it completely black, literally with a roller in just a few minutes. She told me that the painting was especially meaningful to her because she’d written her 30 page thesis on it. I had no doubt that a great deal more creativity and effort went into her paper than had gone into creating the paining!

For a look into the psychology of the abstract artist themselves, let me return to the Palette and Chisel and another artist I knew there. She was an older lady who was quite dedicated. Every morning she’d take the large canvas she was working on and set it up in the coach house. Then she’d go to her studio and squeeze some paint directly onto a single brush and then close the tube back up. That paint on her brush was all she would squeeze out for the entire day. Brush in hand, she would go back out to the main room of the coach house and stare at her canvas from across the room. Finally she would walk up to the painting and scrub a little paint onto its surface. Then she would return to her position at the other end of the room and study the effect. She repeated this process all day, by which point she’d used up all the paint she’d laid out on her brush for that day and probably covered several miles walking back and forth.

Day after day, she repeated the same process. If you asked her about what she was doing you’d get an endless monologue on the meaning of what her painting was saying; ranging all through history, politics, color theory, quantum physics, etc. After a month or so the painting was finished… A large canvas painted a single, solid color! Can you even imagine the depth of belief of this woman? If you were just cynically trying to use the system to rip off gullible collectors, she could easily have created an indistinguishable copy of her painting in about a half hour, so I have no doubt of her earnestness. I loved the character people like this woman gave to the club so I was sad when she was kicked out a few years latter for clashing with some of the other artists when they wanted to use the common room of the coach house for sculpture while she felt she had exclusive squatter’s rights to it, I suppose.

As Thomas Wolf documents so eloquently in his book, “The Painted Word,” modern art’s paintings themselves are nearly irrelevant, mere illustrated excuses for the theories, sheik parties, commerce, and feeling of superiority one gets from setting yourself above everyone else. It reminds me of children who pretend to talk to a pet rock and soon have all the other kids claiming they can hear it speak as well. Of course the illusion usually collapses when that one bratty nonconformist walks up and says that it’s a rock and can’t talk (just like the little boy in “The Emperor’s New Clothes” tale.) Kids just aren’t sophisticated enough to point out that this is proof that there is something wrong with the malcontent’s hearing. Of course, once they’ve attended college Art History, they will have all the syllogistic weapons at their fingertips to put down such plebian uprisings.

These “explanations” can be so persuasive, combined with the fear of looking stupid in the face of so many “experts” praise that just about anyone can suspend their own common sense in the face of it. One of the smartest people I know, a scientist by profession, recently told me that he’d gone to a Picasso exhibit at a museum and at first just thought everything was laughably bad, not even as good as a child’s drawing. Then he took the audio tour and after an hour or so of having everything explained to him, he understood why the paintings were masterpieces and Picasso was so exalted. The problem with this is that painting is a visual Art, and if you don’t react to it upon seeing the paintings, then it is a failure, period! I don’t care how much double talk you throw at it; a ten foot canvas painted black will never be a moving work of art no mater how tormented the artist was, how many heads of state have bought his paintings, or how many big words the art critics can dazzle people with when describing something that really only needs one small word – black. 

My friend is one of the most brilliant people I know, having started his own hundred-million dollar company and running it with the clear-eyed realism any good scientist applies to a problem. Why, then, wouldn't he apply the same skepticism to art? It comes down to the fact that modern museums and art critics have for so long conditioned the general public to distrust their own reactions to art. When you see unintelligible paintings, sculptures, and all the rest time after time that are called "masterpieces;" when the critics repeatedly tell you that it's not really the paintings themselves, but these theories that explain the paintings that matter and that only they can tell you which are right, eventually you simply give into this redefinition of what art is. If you accept such a definition, then you are abdicating your ability to feel and to experience art on an emotional level. Once that happens, then anything goes and it's no longer about art, about a visual language, it's simply about getting that stamp of authenticity and collecting the membership fee to the elite club of the bamboozled. Picasso once bragged that he could sell absolutely anything with his signature on it and I think that one only needs to look at what he did sell to see how true this was.

 Below is a quote that I most recently saw reproduced in "Plein Air Magazine" that sums up this fraud well.

Picasso Still Life

This quote seemed so perfect since it eloquently sums up my own feelings on Picasso's paintings and the reasons for his fame. I found it courageous that he would actually admit to the deception he was a part of and I admired the beautiful command of language he used in expressing himself. I've seen this paragraph printed and quoted for a long time and so was surprised after posted it on this page to receive the following e-mail. 

Hi Scott and Sue,

Love, love, LOVE, your website--and thanks a zillion for those beautiful demos--but there's something I must tell you.  The supposed quote by Picasso in your "Reflections" is a fake.  It was dreamt up by an Italian named Giovanni Papini and published in his book "Il Libro Nero" (The Black Book) which is a collection of imaginary interviews he "had" with a lot of famous people. 

With best wishes for your continued success,

Lawrence Humphrey
Torrelles, Spain

I've left the quote on here since it sums up so much of the modern world's pitfalls of separating truth from fiction. I guess there's no way to tell if Picasso himself would have agreed with these words so commonly attributed to him, but I have to say that I certainly do think they sum up my own thoughts on his artwork. Don’t get me wrong, artists like Picasso and all the rest are interesting characters with interesting lives, which is much more responsible for their fame than their actual paintings, in my opinion. Even I enjoy reading about their lives and find the phenomena of their success and the prices people pay for their works fascinating from a sociological standpoint. To me the fact that they are raised up on the pedestal of greatness says far more about our society than about their paintings.

This is, of course simply my own, oft-flawed opinion and if you look at their work and are moved by them on their own merits, that’s fine with me and I will never try and argue or talk you out of your own honest reactions since we are all different. I’m certainly not setting myself up as an arbiter of anything but my own tastes. My suspicion, however, is that, like my scientist friend, most people wouldn’t look twice at one of these works if they weren’t hung on a museum wall with a price tag of millions and an audio-tour indoctrination to go along with them.

Ok, yes there are some abstract paintings that I think are beautiful, mostly from a decorative standpoint. Many of Jackson Pollock’s paintings have the same appeal as patterns on a rock, clouds, or even the images created by fractal equations in a computer. All great realist painters must also strive to achieve the abstract beauty of composition and technique as well, but to say that on its own this is great art is a stretch in my opinion. Though I find a few of these paintings attractive from a color or decorative standpoint, none have ever called up the great emotional reaction a Monet, Sargent, Van Gogh, Fechin, or any number of other great realist masters can since, without a subject, there can be no connection on an emotional level. Most don't even have this limited level of appeal. 

I often think of the great masterpieces archeologists dig up of the Greeks and other ancient civilizations. Would they be able to identify most of what is in the "modern" art collections of today as art simply by themselves? How about the heaps of scrap metal that sometimes pass as sculpture, or the lone gym shoe I once saw in a modern art show, or the canvas painted black, or Picasso, Pollock, Rothko, and all the rest. Are they really "Art," or merely secondary artifacts of our culture of fame, or symbols of modern ideas more than visual works of sublime visual meaning in their own right? Certainly a dollar bill is no more than a symbolic piece of paper that holds worth merely through general agreement, regardless of its artistic merit. In the same way, just because people pay millions of dollars for something doesn't mean it is art.

From a purely capitalistic viewpoint, I’d have to say that abstract painting is certainly superior to realistic art. After all, if you were a gallery who decided to put a great deal of money and effort into making a particular artist famous, who would you choose, a realistic artist that might take years and years of support until their paintings reached a the level of greatness (and even then they might never get that good), or an abstract painter who’s work could be duplicated by the nearest three year old and consequently needs no time whatsoever to nurture? And once you made them famous and convinced people to pay millions of dollars for their paintings, the realistic artist would still only be able to paint a limited amount of paintings whereas someone like Picasso could crank out a hundred times the number of works of even the most prolific realist. Is it any wonder, then, which the high powered dealers and galleries choose to promote?

Modern art’s appeal to the artist is that it is so easy to do. It doesn’t take year’s of grueling practice and discipline like doing a portrait or a realistic landscape. Just splash some colors around and who’s to say you’re not the next Picasso? In truth, all it takes in the modern art world is for the right gallery or Museum to give you a show since whomever they choose out of the multitude will be guaranteed instant fame no matter what their work is like.

The appeal to a corporation is also simple. It’s important to buy artwork to look like you’re supporting the arts, but an abstract painting also minimizes the risk of anyone being turned off by the subject matter. A nude is an obvious minefield, even a landscape could make you seem like you bend toward the environmentalists. A woman or minority in a domestic or historical scene could be interpreted as derogatory. What if the realistic painting turns out to be not that good and it reflects badly on the company’s taste? But who can be offended by the subject when there isn’t any? And those decorative splashes of color are so easy to match to the carpet or couch by the designer! Why strive for excellence when there is simply no risk to artist or collector if you simply settle for a painting of nothing?

There are many other permutations to this category, mostly due to the cult of celebrity and the aforementioned fact that much of the price of a painting is calculated based on the fame of the artist or celebrity and less so on the artwork itself. Some artists become famous because of the quality of their work, some simply by shocking society enough to get their name into the headlines. Sometimes it’s a combination of both and this is certainly not limited to modern art. Sargent was well known before the Madam X controversy, but it definitely helped in his fame, even though it forced him out of France for a time. When Rodin’s “Age of Bronze” sculpture was accused of being done by casting a live model rather than being sculpted, he rose out of obscurity and became an instant household name. Of course, back then before people realized you could sell art without an actual work of art, notoriety still had to be backed up with talent and hard work, which both Rodin and Sargent certainly did.

I wish art were simply about the quality and nothing else, but this is the world we live in and the way our brains are wired so it’s better to just recognize it and marvel at the strange things that come about as a result. There’s also no point in getting mad about it, just shake your head and laugh and continue following your heart.

And, finally…

To help the artist.  When I was on a panel at the Autry Museum a few years back, one of the questions posed us was by a newer collector who wondered if it wouldn’t be better from an investment standpoint to only buy the work of deceased artists since their careers were already established and wouldn’t contain any surprises. Once of the experts on art investment dealt with the question from a purely monetary viewpoint, explaining some of the reasons why one shouldn’t ignore living artists as well as deceased, but my first thought was that if everyone followed such a strategy, there very soon would be zero art produced at all from living artists!

This is no mere idle thought since we visit many countries where we find little if any artwork of high caliber. This isn’t because there is a lack of talent or desire among the population of would-be artists, but invariably because there just isn’t an established tradition of art patronage. Whatever improvements Susan and I have made over twenty years of painting and studying our craft is as much a reflection of and collaboration with the hundreds of people who have bought our work over the years and supported us.

Some bought our paintings because they loved them, some for investment, and some maybe even because friends or magazine articles convinced them we were “important”, while others probably saw that our paintings weren’t yet great, but wanted to help us to keep going in the belief that if we did so, someday we might come close to reaching our goals. One of the first paintings I ever sold was of a Chicago street scene to my Uncle Norman, who no doubt was buying it for this very reason. None of us start out as great artists and without such support I never would have been able to even buy the art supplies needed to do the thousands of horrific paintings needed to get to the good ones, which I sincerely hope will soon be appearing on my easel.

Art is a partnership between collector and artist. The pride that a collector feels when one of “their” artists receives an award or some recognition, or simply does a better painting is genuine and deserved. Our patrons know instinctively that they have participated in what we create now and for ever into the future. For many who loved art all their lives and even considered becoming artists before choosing another path in life be it business or raising a family, collecting an artist’s work is a way of furthering something you love and being a part of the creative process. Thus when we speak of Michelangelo we also speak of the Medicis, since the works of the one would not have existed without the patronage of the other.

All art is a reflection not only of the artists of a society, but of the society itself. There will always be artists of all kinds, including those ready to pander to art critics or the marketplace. Whatever society values the most will be reflected in the artists it supports. Our society uses money to vote with, so vote wisely and one heartfelt thanks to all the people who have supported us over the years and allowed us to pursue our passion and hopefully add just a little bit of beauty and insight to our world.

Scott Burdick (-: