(L-R: Bill Lasarow, Hunter Drohojowska-Philp, Mark Bradford, Mat Gleason, Jerri Allyn, Marlena Donohue - photo: Mark Oberhofer)

Panel discussions often put me to sleep, but the scintillating dialogue between artist Mark Bradford and art writer Hunter DP was enough to keep me into this one last weekend at the L.A. Convention Center’s Los Angeles Art Show. Check out the Audio Highlights of it if you enjoy commentary about art and social consciousness.

(also a photo out take from the panel)

GOOD ADVICE:

Is Larry Gagosian pulling back his worldwide operations? Check out his Gagosian Gallery website’s Upcoming Shows listings:

Two shows are planned for his Madison Avenue space uptown, one show is set to open at his 24th Street location in Chelsea and there is even a show scheduled for Rome opening on February 6.

And nothing else.

When the WorldWide Leader in Contemporary Art does not have enough confidence in the market to schedule a show past mid-February in his London and Beverly Hills locations, and in early March at his 21st Street Chelsea palace… one has to wonder whether Larry is pulling back the reins or getting cheap with hiring someone to update the website.?©

BY Alan Bamberger - originally published in Coagula Issue #81, June 2006

Every art show opening marks a milestone in your career as an artist.
It’s a premier, a beginning, a critical instant of opportunity. It may only last a few hours, but it’s like everything you’ve ever worked for and accomplished microcosmically concentrated into a one shot whack at forging your destiny. Why? Because anything can happen– and it often does– which means you gotta be there, be on, and be ready.

Your art never looks as good as it does at your opening. It’s pristine, perfect, and at the threshold of a new beginning. Everyone is optimistic about prospects for favorable reactions, healthy sales, and good reviews. But the most important ingredient is you, and the more aware you are of the implications of the impending onslaught, the better the chances to upwardly alter the course of your success.

I’m amazed at how many artists completely disregard their openings.
They spend weeks, months, or years creating the art, but not ten minutes reflecting on how they’ll present themselves at its public debut. They show up, stand around, smile, chit chat, schmooze with friends, sip wine, shake hands, respond, react, go home, and forget about it. What don’t they do? Prepare with purpose.

You can do better than that, much better, so in case there’s an art opening in your future, maybe consider incorporating the following gambits into your repertoire. You’ll be glad you did.

The number one rule of art opening protocol is to BE THERE from the opening bell to the closing clink. If you have to leave, for whatever reason, tell whoever’s in charge where you’re going, how long you’ll be gone, and when you’ll be back. This way, people who want to meet you know exactly how long they have to wait. You see, anyone can show up at anytime with any agenda, and your duty is to be available or accounted for 100% of the time. Better yet, unless it’s an emergency, stick around. Remember, we’re talking hours, not days.

Now that you’re there, make yourself available, especially to people you don’t know. Don’t hang with your friends, let one or two gasbags monopolize your time, or get cornered by some wannabe bozo gamer who talks tall but has no intention of buying. One of the most common mistakes artists make at their openings is spending way too much time with the people who are least likely to buy their art. Hey– you can bathe in the white light love of your sycophants anytime, so save it for later.

Keep the traffic moving; keep conversations simple and answers brief; keep the potential buyer pool as large as possible. Speak in everyday language that anyone can understand (if you need help with this, practice before the opening). Avoid telling people more than they want to hear; avoid answering questions in unintelligible insider art jargon gibberish. Best procedure is to answer all questions in thirty seconds or less (if you think that’s too short, time yourself and see how much you can say in thirty seconds– you’ll be amazed). The longer your answers, the fewer people you talk to. If someone wants to hear your life story, tell it later, after the show.

Pay attention to everyone you talk to; make sure they understand what you’re saying. Speak at their level and don’t act like you know much more about art than they do (even when you do). If you see they don’t get it, slow down, back up, ask what they don’t get, try a simpler approach, or ask if they have questions. Most importantly, avoid the tendency to be argumentative or to correct anyone who misinterprets your art or sees it differently than you do.

So here you are; the stampede is on. Everyone’s looking good, wanting a piece of the action, to be part of “it,” to rub elbows, get somewhere, be somebody, feel special, whatever. But you’ve got the wildcards too, people who come because they’re curious, they’re with friends, they like parties, they’re walking by and look in the window, they like crowds, they like to look at art without being noticed, and so on. It makes absolutely no difference whether they’ve heard of you or seen your art. Anybody can be a potential buyer. Anybody can decide, for whatever reason, at any moment, that they like your art enough to get serious. And in order to facilitate that seriousness to culminate in a sale, you’ve got to make the process of identifying with and buying your art as easy as buying a quart of milk at the grocery store.

Walk up and introduce yourself to anyone who’s actively scoping your art, your resume, your statement, or your price list. You can tell real fast how interested they are. If you get a cool reception, politely excuse yourself and move on. Remember, all kinds of people want to talk to you for all kinds of reasons, but MANY ARE AFRAID TO ASK. Best procedure is to assume everyone’s too shy to say hi, and would much rather have you go first. When you guess right and deepen their connections to you and your art, you win buyers.

Avoid stock answers. For example, when someone asks you to explain your art or asks a question about the meaning or significance of your art, don’t tell them it means whatever they want it to mean. Guess what? They already know that. They wanna know what YOU think it means. Be responsive and considerate, no matter how uninformed their questions may be. You know what? When you ask questions about stuff you don’t understand to people who understand it really well, you sound uninformed too.

It’s OK for people to like something they know little or nothing about, and when that something is your art, you’re in luck. Tons of people who like art know little or nothing about it, some of them are buyers, and some of them will hopefully buy yours. To increase the chances of that happening, have entry-level explanations and answers that keep them in the game. We all have to start somewhere, right?

You see, people spook easy around art. Sure, they love it and want to own it– everybody does– but as soon as they don’t understand something or feel the least bit confused or uncomfortable, they run the other way. In order to increase the fan base and make the sales, you have to unspook them, or better yet, don’t give them a chance to get spooked in the first place. Keep it simple right from the start, because that’s how we like it. Simple. We’re at an art opening sipping wine and being chic, not at a postgraduate seminar. Remember?

As for the curators, critics, reporters, bloggers, photographers, and
videographers, no matter how insignificant their publications or websites or how much you disagree with their views, give them absolutely everything they ask for. You want reviews, so know your players and chat them up. Publicity is always good, no matter where it appears or what it says; every time someone writes about your art, that means your art’s worth writing about. And that rapscallion who writes for iliketoblatheraboutart.com– he may one day become art critic for The New York Times. In the meantime, you never know who’ll stumble across his coverage of your show on iliketoblatheraboutart.com, like what they see, and decide to take action.

Want more? OK. Here you go–

* Stifle the attitude. Be respectful. If someone doesn’t know who you are or isn’t familiar with your art, be kind and bear with them.

* Don’t act aloof, inaccessible, or appear preoccupied.

* Make sure everything is priced and that prices are visible for everyone to see. Forcing people to ask how much your art costs eliminates potential buyers who, for whatever reasons, feel uncomfortable asking.

* Keep an eye on the crowd. If you’re busy, but see people who look like they need help or have questions, point them out to gallery personnel. When you need help and nobody helps you, you leave, right? You don’t want that.

* Make sure you’ve got plenty of copies of your statement, resume, and price list available. Nobody likes having to look over other people’s shoulders, having other people look over their shoulders, waiting for someone to put the ferkin’ thing down, or reaching for it and having someone else grab it first.

* Be careful not to pressure people or oversell (this is not usually a problem with artists, but it does happen from time to time).

* Be positive. No complaining. No whining. No trashing other artists, collectors, galleries, or anybody or anything else. Whatever you say, make sure it’s nice. Imagine someone saying the same things about you or your art. How would you feel?

* If you’re talking to someone you know and someone you don’t know comes up and wants to talk to you, tell the someone-you-know that you’ll continue the conversation later and talk to the someone-you-don’t-know. Keep the someone-you-don’t-know waiting for as little time as possible. The most important people at your opening may turn out be ones you don’t know– yet.

* Stay sober. You’ll have plenty of time for substance abuse later.