As anyone who is engaged in the Visual Arts knows, it isn't easy. Working in the studio is usually satisfying and enriching and, at times, even powerful. Dealing with the art world at large is another story. Two years ago I began a 5" x 10' drawing - the largest of my gunpowder and graphite series to date - of four Muslim men bowing in prayer. At about the same time I was invited to exhibit in a group show at a museum south of Boston. The exhibition paired contemporary drawings with prints from the museum's collection. I was excited that the new drawing would be included. The exposure would be terrific and who knows where it would lead, what doors would open afterward. I could never have imagined what actually transpired.
The first disappointment was that the museum failed to mention, in any of its publicity for the exhibition , that there were drawings included - never mind listing names of the several artists involved. I sent out my own invitations and at least some of my acquaintances attended the opening. The curator left the museum at the start of the exhibit so there was no follow up with her. In November, just after Thanksgiving I had a call from the registrar telling me that an unsupervised child ran into the unguarded gallery and dragged his hand across the entire bottom surface of my unframed piece. It was not too visible she said. I drove there to see for myself and found that the marks were not very noticeable and that I could probably touch up the drawing back in the studio. A relief. Then, just after Christmas (It was a long show), I had another call from the registrar. The roof leaked above the drawing and for three days a channel of water flowed over one section of the piece. This time it was noticeable and quite damaged. Off it went to a paper restorer and, after a year in storage, attempts to unbuckle the paper, remove the red stains, and repair the graphite surface, the drawing was no better. The insurance company paid me in full for the drawing after I signed ownership over to them. It seems that they try to resell the damaged piece or donate it to a conservation school for student practice.
Yesterday - September 4th - about two years to the start of this saga - a trucker came to pick up the half of the two panel drawing that I had in my studio. I was actually relieved that this experience was going to be behind me and that I had let go of the lingering idea of remaking the piece. The delivery truck arrived at 10am, backed into my driveway and a fellow in quite a hurry packed up the drawing, scribbled a receipt in duplicate for me to sign, and drove off. I went back to my office to finish the work I was doing only to find that the phone and internet were dead. Outside I saw the cable wires dangling on each side of the driveway , torn apart by the over sized truck. By 8pm last night the neighborhood was back on line, I had calmed down and I think at last this story is over. Stay tuned - this has inspired me to write more about my ever eventful life at mid-career in the Art World.
The first disappointment was that the museum failed to mention, in any of its publicity for the exhibition , that there were drawings included - never mind listing names of the several artists involved. I sent out my own invitations and at least some of my acquaintances attended the opening. The curator left the museum at the start of the exhibit so there was no follow up with her. In November, just after Thanksgiving I had a call from the registrar telling me that an unsupervised child ran into the unguarded gallery and dragged his hand across the entire bottom surface of my unframed piece. It was not too visible she said. I drove there to see for myself and found that the marks were not very noticeable and that I could probably touch up the drawing back in the studio. A relief. Then, just after Christmas (It was a long show), I had another call from the registrar. The roof leaked above the drawing and for three days a channel of water flowed over one section of the piece. This time it was noticeable and quite damaged. Off it went to a paper restorer and, after a year in storage, attempts to unbuckle the paper, remove the red stains, and repair the graphite surface, the drawing was no better. The insurance company paid me in full for the drawing after I signed ownership over to them. It seems that they try to resell the damaged piece or donate it to a conservation school for student practice.
Yesterday - September 4th - about two years to the start of this saga - a trucker came to pick up the half of the two panel drawing that I had in my studio. I was actually relieved that this experience was going to be behind me and that I had let go of the lingering idea of remaking the piece. The delivery truck arrived at 10am, backed into my driveway and a fellow in quite a hurry packed up the drawing, scribbled a receipt in duplicate for me to sign, and drove off. I went back to my office to finish the work I was doing only to find that the phone and internet were dead. Outside I saw the cable wires dangling on each side of the driveway , torn apart by the over sized truck. By 8pm last night the neighborhood was back on line, I had calmed down and I think at last this story is over. Stay tuned - this has inspired me to write more about my ever eventful life at mid-career in the Art World.
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