Years ago, arts writer and former art dealer Dave Hickey described the
relationship between dealer and artist as a simple one: The artist makes the
work; the dealer sells the work; the artist tries to get the money. And that’s
the way the system works, for the most part — not because dealers are an
innately crooked bunch out to steal bread from the mouths of starving artists
(although there are some to be avoided), but because artists in general are
slow to recognize their obligation to be equal partners in the business of
selling art.
Amazingly, even seasoned artists with decades of fine production and excellent
reviews behind them are constantly refining the process: building
relationships, then divorcing dealers of long standing, trusting new ones. As
artists become more and more successful, they become all the more tied to the
business part of the business of making art.
This spring, Splendora sculptor James Surls made a tour through Texas’ major
cities moderating a series of panel discussions that explored artist/dealer
relationships. In Dallas, Houston, Austin, and San Antonio, he invited local
artists and dealers to join him on the panel and in the audience. Surls, whose
work appears in New York as well as in regional galleries, wanted to call
attention to dealers who sell artists’ work but don’t pay them in a timely way.
Or at all. His crusade was based on personal experience, but substantial
turnout across the state proved that a lot of artists have had bad experiences
with dealers. In Austin, Women & Their Work Gallery was filled with people
nodding heads in agreement with artist/panelists Michael Mogavero, Judy Jensen,
Connie Arismendi, and Susan Whyne. (John Robertson, lawyer, collector and
sometimes arts writer, and Camille Lyons, director of Lyons Matrix Gallery were
also on the panel.) Perhaps the chief value of the panels was that individual
artists discovered they weren’t alone in having been stung by the system.
However, Surls’ strident call for greater commitment and fiscal responsibility
from galleries without a corresponding challenge to artists seemed one-sided at
best. “Nobody does business the way artists do business,” Surls said. He went
on to talk about artists who drop off a $50,000 painting to a gallery and a
year later have to ask for their money — an indictment of the gallery. But
what about the artist who drops off paintings or sculpture or drawings to a
gallery without asking for a receipt from the dealer, without photographing and
documenting the work? After months of creative effort, how can artists release
their work without asking routinely for an accounting of sales? Out-of-town
galleries are accessible by telephone or by mail, local galleries allow for
scheduled appointments with the dealer and random visits to see how the work is
being treated on gallery premises. When galleries take work on consignment,
they are borrowing the artist’s property. The owner of that property has every
right — and no small amount of responsibility — to check on its whereabouts
and condition from time to time.
Dana Ravel, former owner and director of Galerie Ravel in Austin, says that
while most artists and dealers begin with the same high purpose — to promote
art — the relationship tends to break down when one feels the other is not
performing according to their original agreement. The presence of a written
contract, according to Ravel, makes resolution of the conflict easier. Now a
private dealer living in Dallas, Ravel recently prepared a long essay on the
symbiotic relationship of artists and galleries and is investigating ways to
share that information with artists.
The mating dance between artist and dealer is similar to that
between collector and art dealer. First there must be a shared visual
sensibility; we don’t expect to love everything a particular gallery presents,
but neither do we return to a space that’s repeatedly disappointed us in the
past. Those who like traditional landscapes tend to avoid cutting edge
galleries. Others who want abstraction, minimalism, or installation art steer
clear of more conservative spaces. Most artists do the same when looking for an
art dealer to represent their work, although some still waste their time (and
the dealer’s) by hustling galleries whose work is incompatible with their own.
Researching a gallery’s reputation also helps us decide whether to trust the
dealer’s eye and buy the work he or she sells. Artists should also research a
gallery’s reputation for handling work safely, selling art consistently, and
dealing fairly with artists. Research is particularly important for artists who
want to be represented in cities that they might not visit regularly or at all.
“In the long run, it’s always a crap shoot,” says sculptor David Everett. A
Chicago gallery called Everett and showed interest in exhibiting his wood
sculptures. They asked him to ship a piece called “Crowd Pleaser” to Chicago,
even though he pointed out that it was very large. After it arrived, the
gallery owner called and said the sculpture was too big. “Ship it back,” said
Everett. A couple of weeks later, he received a badly broken crate leaking
Styrofoam peanuts. Fortunately, the sculpture was not damaged and neither was
his willingness to trust another out-of-town gallery. When one in North
Carolina asked him to ship them some work, Everett did. That gallery returned
his sculpture and drawings damaged and never paid for repairs. “It really makes
you gun shy,” says Everett. “[Still], you have to trust somebody; you have to
decide whether to give them a second chance.”
Michael Mogavero agrees that the artist is hostage to his own need to exhibit
work. “What are you most interested in,” he asks his students at UT,
“protecting work or getting it somewhere to be seen?” The less experienced the
artist, the greater the chance for disaster. More than a decade ago, at the
recommendation of a Swiss collector, Mogavero shipped work to a gallery in
Basel. He received timely payment for the works that sold during his show. A
year later, when he finally tried to arrange the return of the remaining
paintings, he discovered the gallery had closed and the dealer had disappeared.
Mogavero’s paintings are now in a warehouse somewhere on the border of
Switzerland and Italy, but the artist doesn’t have the time or resources to get
them back. He has decided the only thing to do is move on. “You do the best you
can.” he says.
Many gallery owners do the best they can as well, looking for artists who are
professional and loyal. Good dealers provide the same professional service and
loyalty in return to the artists they choose to represent. When asked how she
deals with difficult artists, Camille Lyons of Austin’s Lyons Matrix Gallery
suggests that she doesn’t like to bother with them. “It’s too easy to work with
the ones who have it all together,” she says. Lyons, who has a fine reputation
for fair treatment of artists, sent a contract to each of the ones she
represented about a year ago. “Seventy-five percent signed it,” she says, while
at least 50% were “insulted and incensed.” She says, “It’s a good thing to have
in front of you to discuss certain issues,” but has signed contracts only with
those artists who wanted to do it.
More often than not, the artist/dealer relationship is like a common law
marriage rather than one formalized with signatures on a contract. Mutual
trust, a good-faith effort to fulfill responsibilities, and personal
“chemistry” are all critical in sustaining relationships which are proven (or
dissolved) over time. The question is not whether artists and dealers will
disagree, but how patiently they negotiate the issues that inevitably arise.
“The best relationships have been (established) through talking,” says
Mogavero. “I prefer the traditional handshake,” says Everett.
“It’s pretty much up to the artist,” says Melissa Miller, who goes on to note
that artists have to be their own business managers. For Miller this includes
keeping a paper trail of interactions with her dealers, comparing inventory
lists with them annually, receiving consignment receipts for work delivered.
All the artists I spoke with for this article discounted the absolute need for
a contract while agreeing that notes on important conversations should be
maintained for reference. Some felt that simple letters of agreement, should be
exchanged. How else can the artist judge whether the gallery is meeting his or
her expectations? How better for the dealer who has a large stable of artists
to recall promises made and whether they’ve been met?
Dana Ravel says that “there are as many different kinds of dealers as there
are people.” Artists are different from each other as well. Some artists want
to make friends with the gallery owner, while others are content to have
minimal contact with the dealer between regularly scheduled exhibitions. Some
artists need an occasional advance against sales to help pay the rent, while
others worry less about sales than crisp presentation and good, critical
reviews. Regardless, it is the responsibility of all artists to keep track of
the work they produce and leave with galleries. These creations, like children,
need protection. A written contract helps (though does not guarantee)
enforcement.
At Surls’ gathering in Austin, it became clear that the principal reason
artists do not leave galleries that treat them badly is their perception that
the gallery is so prestigious — and therefore the association so important to
their career — that they have to put up with shabby treatment. One artist says
that it’s like a girl wanting the “bad guy,” the one who’s not good for you.
“This is like a family matter — you don’t put your laundry in the street,”
said another. “If a gallery screws you, tell people about it,” suggested a
third.
“Without the artist, galleries do not exist,” says Dana Ravel. In the art
business, that is the bottom line. It’s hard to understand why galleries don’t
“get it” and harder still to figure out why artists can’t use their collective
clout to convince offending dealers to change their ways. On the other hand,
without dealers to market and sell their work, artists must either give up
precious studio time to find buyers or — except for the wealthy few — take a
“real” job to pay the rent. Of course, most artists have to take real jobs
anyway, to compensate for what they perceive to be dealer incompetence, sloth,
or outright theft. With or without a contract between artist and dealer, the
battle between the two rages on. Not that long ago, I was on the front lines.
“Do you miss being a gallery owner?” both old friends and new acquaintances
ask me all the time. “No,” I answer quickly, always with a broad smile. And now
you know why. n
Rebecca Cohen, former director of Willingheart and then R.S. Levy Gallery from
1983-1990, is very interested in hearing about your artist-dealer experiences
— good or bad. You may write to her in care of the Austin Chronicle, PO Box
49066, Austin, TX 78765.
Advice to Artists
Choosing a gallery * Visit galleries you wish to approach whenever possible, and be certain the
work they show is compatible with your own.
* Ask for the name (and proper spelling!) of the person who considers artists’
slides.
* Ask other artists represented by the gallery how they are treated.
* If you’re looking for a gallery outside of Austin, inquire about gallery’s
reputation regarding the care and shipment of work. Look for locations that
will be good for your work as well as a dealer who has a solid reputation in
that market.
Preparing to approach the gallery
* Document your work in a professional manner. Good slides are the calling
cards that encourage a dealer to open the door to representing work.
* Prepare a resum� and an artist’s statement. If you’ve accumulated
reviews of your work, those should be included as well. These place your images
in a context that helps the dealer better understand your slides.
* Send a brief letter with slides, resum�, and artist’s statement
indicating that you will call to check on the dealer’s response.
* If you know artists who are represented by the gallery (who are familiar with
and like your work), mention their names and suggest the dealer consult with
them.
* For the return of slides, be sure to include a self-addressed, stamped
envelope.
* Follow up your initial letter with the promised phone call about two weeks
after the slides have been received. If you are polite and patient, the gallery
may recommend other dealers who should see your work if they are not
interested.
* If the gallery suggests you try again in six months or a year, try again.
Persistence (along with talent) frequently pays off. — R.C.
This article appears in August 23 • 1996 and August 23 • 1996 (Cover).