Thinking lately about the distinctions between working in galleries vs. working in museums, my future career path has been very much on my mind. I like the work I do, but something keeps me scanning the job announcements. Partly it’s the frightening economy, but I guess I also have this instinct to keep moving, onward and upward. Is that just another one of my hopelessly romantic notions? From the job descriptions for museum registrar positions, it often seems like I have a more satisfying and varied workload. It’s relatively flexible. I have a lot of freedom and personal discretion, time that I can designate for my own research. That’s so important to me. I may not get that as a museum registrar. Entry level registrars seem to do a lot of condition reports and shipping arrangements and not a whole lot of collection management.
I’m doing everything I can possibly do in terms of career development – publishing, blogging, education, research, trying to network (something I can admittedly improve upon…I’m working on it). The idea of going back to grad school is to develop the academic credentials to be a professional who does more in-depth collection work, ideally curatorship, although now I’m also feeling a little ambivalent about that option. The discussion in my class this week brought up some issues related to professional museum work. My classmates who have worked in museums had rather cynical perspectives on the politics, bureaucracy, and corporatization involved in the larger institutions. The name recognition and résumé prestige also makes these positions extremely competitive. Supply and demand being what it is (and museum studies/art history programs continuing to churn out a glut of overeducated and under-experienced graduates for a dwindling number of jobs), they can afford to be demanding.
The irony is that the jobs that want all this experience and expertise often pay less than what I’m making now. That’s true of both libraries and museums. Even adjunct professors make peanuts. Honestly, that’s another reason why I’m pretty happy where I am right now. I’m paid to catalog art and do research. Three years ago, stuck in the quagmire that was Nebraska, I would have sold all my possessions to be in such a position and living in New Mexico (which I basically ended up doing anyway, but more because I decided to simplify my life…and UHauls are such a pain). I’m not going to retire rich, but I’m well-compensated for the work that I do. Unfortunately, that’s more than many of my friends in the art world can say.
~Heather
Saturday, September 26, 2009
who's on canyon?
i'm not an expert by any means, i've only worked at a gallery for a year and a half, but i've seen my fair share of people. upon entering the gallery, and sometimes even before that, i can usually guess at the nature of the visit. canyon road walkers are usually one of four types of people: a buyer, a looky-loo, an artist, and on rare occassions, an art student.
the looky-loo is the most common. they are here because their kids are in college or maybe they're retired. this is their big vacation and they were told to look at art in Santa Fe because that's what it's known for. a big clue would be the massive camera around their necks. they fancy themselves arists and will probably never buy, because they can take pictures. the buyers are no nonsense. they came with a plan. they know where, what, how, and when. i like the buyers.
then there are the artists. they don't spend a lot of time looking at the art, they appear to be casing the joint the minute they walk in. with leather bound portfolio in hand, they always ask for the owner, who is rarely there in my case. some are polite but some are rather high and mighty. i'm a lowly sales associate, why would they want to talk to me?! (note to aspiring artists trying to get your work into a gallery, be nice to the person at the desk. they have the ability to drop that pretty portfolio in the trash the minute you walk out the door!) being an artist myself, i always feel bad saying thanks but no thanks, we're full.
finally, and this is very rare, we get art students or people really intersted in learning about the art and artists because it is their passion. these are the people that usually end up spending 30-40 minutes with me chatting about the nature of art, art theory, business, etc. they know art, but they want to know more. eventually they'll be the artists sizing me up from behind their portfolio, but at this point they are still wide-eyed and awe struck and very interesting to learn from.
~sara
the looky-loo is the most common. they are here because their kids are in college or maybe they're retired. this is their big vacation and they were told to look at art in Santa Fe because that's what it's known for. a big clue would be the massive camera around their necks. they fancy themselves arists and will probably never buy, because they can take pictures. the buyers are no nonsense. they came with a plan. they know where, what, how, and when. i like the buyers.
then there are the artists. they don't spend a lot of time looking at the art, they appear to be casing the joint the minute they walk in. with leather bound portfolio in hand, they always ask for the owner, who is rarely there in my case. some are polite but some are rather high and mighty. i'm a lowly sales associate, why would they want to talk to me?! (note to aspiring artists trying to get your work into a gallery, be nice to the person at the desk. they have the ability to drop that pretty portfolio in the trash the minute you walk out the door!) being an artist myself, i always feel bad saying thanks but no thanks, we're full.
finally, and this is very rare, we get art students or people really intersted in learning about the art and artists because it is their passion. these are the people that usually end up spending 30-40 minutes with me chatting about the nature of art, art theory, business, etc. they know art, but they want to know more. eventually they'll be the artists sizing me up from behind their portfolio, but at this point they are still wide-eyed and awe struck and very interesting to learn from.
~sara
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Turn, Turn, Turn
The low pressure systems of fall have started moving in. I always feel sorry for the visitors wandering about on these rainy days in sodden bewilderment, never even considering an umbrella on their vacation to this place of mythologically blue skies. In the same way, the high pressure months of the summer art season are turning to the quiet and reflective months of fall.
Like many things in Santa Fe, weather is a mixed blessing. We’re grateful for any moisture we can get, but it detracts from our tourism cache as the city with perpetual sunshine. In a market dependent on the tourist dollar, we need happy campers (ok, more like happy patrons of our luxury hotels). The same is true of the art scene. Santa Fe, though an abundant art market, is not particularly cutting edge (our tourists trend towards the Elderhostel set). It’s really no wonder that Canyon Road rolls out the same routine every summer Friday. We rely on tourism, and that’s what the tourists want. As any observer of Santa Fe art patrons will attest, it’s not uncommon to hear comments along the lines of “Well, but that one would match the wallpaper in the dining room…” The unfortunate effect is a kind of artistic Disneyfication. It’s easy to get disillusioned in this environment, and I think that’s why many locals so adamantly avoid Canyon Road as an artificial experience – a float down “It’s a Small Art World After All.” In a way it’s a relief to watch the crowds thin as September arrives. Part of the legitimate Canyon Road experience is revived in the sense of art for art’s sake. Of course profit matters year round, but in this season it’s more about aesthetic experience than tourism.
I wish galleries would push the boundaries of creativity in really innovative approaches and cutting-edge artists. It will be interesting to see what exhibits emerge during the next few months. Just as fall is the best movie season for the turn from summer blockbusters to more edgy independent films, so too might Canyon Road try to take some chances not considered in the profit-fanatical summer months. We’ll see. ~ Heather
Like many things in Santa Fe, weather is a mixed blessing. We’re grateful for any moisture we can get, but it detracts from our tourism cache as the city with perpetual sunshine. In a market dependent on the tourist dollar, we need happy campers (ok, more like happy patrons of our luxury hotels). The same is true of the art scene. Santa Fe, though an abundant art market, is not particularly cutting edge (our tourists trend towards the Elderhostel set). It’s really no wonder that Canyon Road rolls out the same routine every summer Friday. We rely on tourism, and that’s what the tourists want. As any observer of Santa Fe art patrons will attest, it’s not uncommon to hear comments along the lines of “Well, but that one would match the wallpaper in the dining room…” The unfortunate effect is a kind of artistic Disneyfication. It’s easy to get disillusioned in this environment, and I think that’s why many locals so adamantly avoid Canyon Road as an artificial experience – a float down “It’s a Small Art World After All.” In a way it’s a relief to watch the crowds thin as September arrives. Part of the legitimate Canyon Road experience is revived in the sense of art for art’s sake. Of course profit matters year round, but in this season it’s more about aesthetic experience than tourism.
I wish galleries would push the boundaries of creativity in really innovative approaches and cutting-edge artists. It will be interesting to see what exhibits emerge during the next few months. Just as fall is the best movie season for the turn from summer blockbusters to more edgy independent films, so too might Canyon Road try to take some chances not considered in the profit-fanatical summer months. We’ll see. ~ Heather
Friday, September 11, 2009
Make It or Break It
This first post is going to ramble a bit, so bear with me…
I stopped by the opening reception for yet another new gallery on Canyon Road last week. I was initially struck by the redundancy of the neo-impressionist inventory and the uninspired stylings of their artists. In other words, yawn. Is it any wonder we don’t have a vibrant youth art culture in mainstream Santa Fe? There may be young blood flowing through our city’s veins, but it seems largely isolated to the Railyard and places like Warehouse 21. The question is why can’t we have a commingling of the old and the young, the lucrative tourist market and the spark of creativity inherent in young art? Santa Fe is one place where it is possible to be an artist and not starve. Unfortunately, our young artists are still undernourished.
Santa Fe is by all counts a unique art market. As Sara pointed out, with a population just over 70,000 we are the second largest art market in the country. That means (particularly for those of us employed in the industry) the citizens of The City Different live, breathe, and eat art. Whether they want to or not.
A brief synopsis of my personal journey – with degrees in art history and library science I came to Santa Fe with the idea that I would work in a museum. Instead I was swayed by the gallery siren song and the idea of working hands-on with a dynamic inventory of art. While the work is essentially identical to the kinds of collection management I have always dreamed of in a museum context, the difference is MONEY, both as a concept and as a manifestation of power and influence. People come into our gallery interested in purchasing the paintings on our walls. Our inventory is a privately-owned profit commodity rather than a publically-funded social commodity. Yet we still have the awe-struck art lovers wandering through just as they would in a museum. There’s nothing I find more personally gratifying than hearing someone say “this is one of the best art collections in Santa Fe!” (completely true, in my totally subjective opinion).
Recently I returned to academia with the intent of getting my MA in art history. In the university environment, as well as the museum community where I did my internships and volunteering, there is a distinct (thought generally unspoken) bias towards gallery work. Despite the pride and joy I feel talking about my job to family and friends, I still feel somewhat abashed to admit my place of employment to academic colleagues, fearing assumptions of my lesser academic credentials and professional motivations. The idealistic and selfless museum-centric view is that our missions are intrinsically different. However, I’ve come to realize that it’s an artificial idealism to look at museums as purely selfless charitable institutions. As the recent economic collapse has elucidated, a bottom line is a bottom line. These are businesses with endowments and share-holders who bow down to the almighty dollar just like any corporation.
Mission statements are a major component of museum ideology and branding. Some samples: MOMA – “The Museum of Modern Art is dedicated to being the foremost museum of modern art in the world.” The Getty – “The J. Paul Getty Museum seeks to further knowledge of the visual arts and to nurture critical seeing by collecting, preserving, exhibiting and interpreting works of art of the highest quality.” This is language chosen to exude altruism. Galleries don’t really have mission statements because if they did they would probably read something like “We hope to make enough in profit to continue to collect the kind of art we enjoy while still paying the electric bill and hopefully becoming rich and influential members of the community so we get invited to the really fancy parties.” However, the truth is that the art world is not a stream with a current in one direction. It is an intricately woven tapestry of transcultural influences. Galleries are part of a complex system of trend-making that combines talent, networking, media exposure, timing, cultural context, and, yes, money. Museums do not exist in a vacuum but are rather an intrinsic component of this system. Museum collections are determined by the art popularized by the commodified and fetishized world of private dealers and exhibitions. Physical inventories are bought and sold between the two. Galleries and museums are two sides of the same coin, and for art lovers it’s the experience, not the raison d’etre, that matters.
~Heather
I stopped by the opening reception for yet another new gallery on Canyon Road last week. I was initially struck by the redundancy of the neo-impressionist inventory and the uninspired stylings of their artists. In other words, yawn. Is it any wonder we don’t have a vibrant youth art culture in mainstream Santa Fe? There may be young blood flowing through our city’s veins, but it seems largely isolated to the Railyard and places like Warehouse 21. The question is why can’t we have a commingling of the old and the young, the lucrative tourist market and the spark of creativity inherent in young art? Santa Fe is one place where it is possible to be an artist and not starve. Unfortunately, our young artists are still undernourished.
Santa Fe is by all counts a unique art market. As Sara pointed out, with a population just over 70,000 we are the second largest art market in the country. That means (particularly for those of us employed in the industry) the citizens of The City Different live, breathe, and eat art. Whether they want to or not.
A brief synopsis of my personal journey – with degrees in art history and library science I came to Santa Fe with the idea that I would work in a museum. Instead I was swayed by the gallery siren song and the idea of working hands-on with a dynamic inventory of art. While the work is essentially identical to the kinds of collection management I have always dreamed of in a museum context, the difference is MONEY, both as a concept and as a manifestation of power and influence. People come into our gallery interested in purchasing the paintings on our walls. Our inventory is a privately-owned profit commodity rather than a publically-funded social commodity. Yet we still have the awe-struck art lovers wandering through just as they would in a museum. There’s nothing I find more personally gratifying than hearing someone say “this is one of the best art collections in Santa Fe!” (completely true, in my totally subjective opinion).
Recently I returned to academia with the intent of getting my MA in art history. In the university environment, as well as the museum community where I did my internships and volunteering, there is a distinct (thought generally unspoken) bias towards gallery work. Despite the pride and joy I feel talking about my job to family and friends, I still feel somewhat abashed to admit my place of employment to academic colleagues, fearing assumptions of my lesser academic credentials and professional motivations. The idealistic and selfless museum-centric view is that our missions are intrinsically different. However, I’ve come to realize that it’s an artificial idealism to look at museums as purely selfless charitable institutions. As the recent economic collapse has elucidated, a bottom line is a bottom line. These are businesses with endowments and share-holders who bow down to the almighty dollar just like any corporation.
Mission statements are a major component of museum ideology and branding. Some samples: MOMA – “The Museum of Modern Art is dedicated to being the foremost museum of modern art in the world.” The Getty – “The J. Paul Getty Museum seeks to further knowledge of the visual arts and to nurture critical seeing by collecting, preserving, exhibiting and interpreting works of art of the highest quality.” This is language chosen to exude altruism. Galleries don’t really have mission statements because if they did they would probably read something like “We hope to make enough in profit to continue to collect the kind of art we enjoy while still paying the electric bill and hopefully becoming rich and influential members of the community so we get invited to the really fancy parties.” However, the truth is that the art world is not a stream with a current in one direction. It is an intricately woven tapestry of transcultural influences. Galleries are part of a complex system of trend-making that combines talent, networking, media exposure, timing, cultural context, and, yes, money. Museums do not exist in a vacuum but are rather an intrinsic component of this system. Museum collections are determined by the art popularized by the commodified and fetishized world of private dealers and exhibitions. Physical inventories are bought and sold between the two. Galleries and museums are two sides of the same coin, and for art lovers it’s the experience, not the raison d’etre, that matters.
~Heather
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Look ma, I'm a star!
As a blossoming art student in the hills of West Virginia, one of my dreams was to own a gallery. I imagined myself surrounded by new and exciting art in a crisp, clean gallery...on a beach in Maine. I've never really even been to Maine except for a random trip to Canada in which we drove through as fast as possible but ne'er stepped foot on a rocky shore. I didn't imagine my gallery in DC or the Big Apple and I especially didn't imagine it in Santa Fe. Mostly because I had never heard of Santa Fe. I wonder now if my high school social studies class ever even touched on the fact that New Mexico was part of the USA. To be fair...not all westerners have heard of West Virginia either.
Wherever I ended up, I had never seen myself in a museum setting. While I enjoy art history now, I prefer to be amongst art made by living people. Where we've been doesn't interest me so much as where we're going. The idea of a big, sterile, no touching, memorial to art just seemed so depressing. Not to mention, without an art history degree, museums wouldn't care much for me either. A gallery was the place to be...so bohemian, so alive!
When I tell classmates and old teachers back east where I am now and that I work in a gallery, they are ecstatic that I'm still involved in art. An MFA will only get you so far if you're not going to teach. So far, seven years of schooling aren't all for naught. Most people just facebook me (yes, that is a verb in my world) about how exotic it is to live so far from Steeler country. And to be honest, it's still pretty exotic to me, too. I've never lived somewhere so inundated with the arts. Surprise of all surprises, West Virginia is not an art mecca.
Here I work in a gallery. I am surrounded by art and artists every day and I am quickly learning the business of the artworld. If I ever go back to teaching, my first change in curriculum will be to add a class on marketability. How to sell, what to sell, where to sell, etc. In school, we were taught to be conceptual and to create instead of sleep. Buy paint instead of food. You'll never get paid, but maybe you'll end up in New York City! For now, I'll sell art in my little gallery on Canyon Road in the 2nd biggest art market in the US.
~sara
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