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Macon Telegraph, GA
July 2, 2004
Successful artists gain notoriety outside gallery circuit
By Ariella Budick
Beyond the cozy network of museums, auction houses and New York
galleries that establish the market value and reputations of the
contemporary artists they dub "important," there is a vast world of
artists with followings that make Picasso's seem piddling.
Hawaiian marine artist and long-tressed surfer Christian Lassen paints
throbbing Pacific sunsets above preening waves. Jane Wooster Scott's
placid folk tableaux of snowy New England villages have made her the
"most reproduced artist in America," according to the "Guinness Book
of World Records." Scotsman Jack Vettriano plies his fans with
fantasies of aristocrats frolicking in evening dress, attended by
liveried servants. And, of course, Thomas Kinkade's cozily glowing
cottages and riotous gardens have brought forth a multimillion-dollar
franchise.
Buying even original works of popular art doesn't require an excursion
to the forbiddingly chic precincts of Chelsea or SoHo. They can be
purchased aboard cruise ships or on the Internet, at upscale malls and
in hotels. A Wooster Scott oil sells for $15,000 to $20,000, and a
typical Lassen goes for $225,000. That's peanuts compared to what a
Vettriano can fetch: The art world was stunned in April, when the
original of his widely disseminated "The Singing Butler" sold at
auction for $1.3 million.
Aficionados don't necessarily have to shell out that kind of
cash. Images can be found on calendars, mugs, screen savers and
lottery tickets. There are lithographs, serigraphs and, most
eye-fooling of all, giclees - hand-retouched digital prints that can
cost thousands. Lassen's limited editions start at $2,950 and go to up
$20,000.
These artists ply their trade outside of what is commonly known as the
"art world," beneath the radar of critics and curators. While the
museum is the pinnacle of achievement for those who aspire to a place
in history, popular artists appeal directly to the paying public.
So separate is this parallel art world that its inhabitants see the
museum not as a temple of quality, but as a public relations vehicle
of marginal usefulness. "I could put a Lassen in any museum," says
Paul Olson, the director of Galerie Lassen Las Vegas, the largest of
the artist's six franchises. "He's just not interested in that kind of
promotion. He'd rather give a $100,000 painting to charity than (to) a
museum."
If curators control the prestigious but limited institutional wall
space, the market for popular art is driven by casual shoppers
furnishing a home. While many galleries keep themselves out of the
public eye, operating from the upper floors of office buildings and
dealing mostly with a small coterie of collectors, popular-art dealers
aim for the fortuitous encounter with the passer-by. Their goal is to
exude an aura of anti-elitism, to make novice buyers feel as if they
can trust their own taste.
"When you're talking about avant-garde artists, people look to others
to tell them if it's good or not," says Rich O'Mahony, who runs the
Wentworth Gallery, a chain with 31 outlets throughout the
country. "Here, though, people can walk into a setting and say, 'I
like that, it makes me feel good.' "
The artwork that O'Mahony sells tends to be easy on the eye, and the
goal is not to challenge but to soothe. The roster includes Salvador
Dali and the ever-popular Peter Max, but also names that are
completely unfamiliar. In the same way that Pottery Barn imports
foreign handicrafts, Wentworth recruits painters from countries such
as Croatia and Armenia and puts them under contract.
Wentworth's sales strategy is to chip away at the intimidation and
insecurity that could inhibit customers from spending several thousand
dollars on a work of art.
"As long as millions of people are going to have pictures on their
walls, there will always be a market for pictures that are agreeable
and easy to enjoy," says Robert Rosenblum, an art historian at New
York University. "Business offices, hotel lobbies, hospital corridors
- art's just like furniture, part of necessary decor."
July 2, 2004
Successful artists gain notoriety outside gallery circuit
By Ariella Budick
Beyond the cozy network of museums, auction houses and New York
galleries that establish the market value and reputations of the
contemporary artists they dub "important," there is a vast world of
artists with followings that make Picasso's seem piddling.
Hawaiian marine artist and long-tressed surfer Christian Lassen paints
throbbing Pacific sunsets above preening waves. Jane Wooster Scott's
placid folk tableaux of snowy New England villages have made her the
"most reproduced artist in America," according to the "Guinness Book
of World Records." Scotsman Jack Vettriano plies his fans with
fantasies of aristocrats frolicking in evening dress, attended by
liveried servants. And, of course, Thomas Kinkade's cozily glowing
cottages and riotous gardens have brought forth a multimillion-dollar
franchise.
Buying even original works of popular art doesn't require an excursion
to the forbiddingly chic precincts of Chelsea or SoHo. They can be
purchased aboard cruise ships or on the Internet, at upscale malls and
in hotels. A Wooster Scott oil sells for $15,000 to $20,000, and a
typical Lassen goes for $225,000. That's peanuts compared to what a
Vettriano can fetch: The art world was stunned in April, when the
original of his widely disseminated "The Singing Butler" sold at
auction for $1.3 million.
Aficionados don't necessarily have to shell out that kind of
cash. Images can be found on calendars, mugs, screen savers and
lottery tickets. There are lithographs, serigraphs and, most
eye-fooling of all, giclees - hand-retouched digital prints that can
cost thousands. Lassen's limited editions start at $2,950 and go to up
$20,000.
These artists ply their trade outside of what is commonly known as the
"art world," beneath the radar of critics and curators. While the
museum is the pinnacle of achievement for those who aspire to a place
in history, popular artists appeal directly to the paying public.
So separate is this parallel art world that its inhabitants see the
museum not as a temple of quality, but as a public relations vehicle
of marginal usefulness. "I could put a Lassen in any museum," says
Paul Olson, the director of Galerie Lassen Las Vegas, the largest of
the artist's six franchises. "He's just not interested in that kind of
promotion. He'd rather give a $100,000 painting to charity than (to) a
museum."
If curators control the prestigious but limited institutional wall
space, the market for popular art is driven by casual shoppers
furnishing a home. While many galleries keep themselves out of the
public eye, operating from the upper floors of office buildings and
dealing mostly with a small coterie of collectors, popular-art dealers
aim for the fortuitous encounter with the passer-by. Their goal is to
exude an aura of anti-elitism, to make novice buyers feel as if they
can trust their own taste.
"When you're talking about avant-garde artists, people look to others
to tell them if it's good or not," says Rich O'Mahony, who runs the
Wentworth Gallery, a chain with 31 outlets throughout the
country. "Here, though, people can walk into a setting and say, 'I
like that, it makes me feel good.' "
The artwork that O'Mahony sells tends to be easy on the eye, and the
goal is not to challenge but to soothe. The roster includes Salvador
Dali and the ever-popular Peter Max, but also names that are
completely unfamiliar. In the same way that Pottery Barn imports
foreign handicrafts, Wentworth recruits painters from countries such
as Croatia and Armenia and puts them under contract.
Wentworth's sales strategy is to chip away at the intimidation and
insecurity that could inhibit customers from spending several thousand
dollars on a work of art.
"As long as millions of people are going to have pictures on their
walls, there will always be a market for pictures that are agreeable
and easy to enjoy," says Robert Rosenblum, an art historian at New
York University. "Business offices, hotel lobbies, hospital corridors
- art's just like furniture, part of necessary decor."