Some incisive advice to young and emerging artists from one of the great graphic designers of our time – Milton Glaser. It may not come as much of a surprise, that it’s about hard work and dedication.

Milton Glaser is the most celebrated graphic designer in the United States. He’s to thank (or blame) for the ubiquitous “I ‘heart’ New York” logo amongst many other memorable items of iconography.

He has had one-man-shows at the Museum of Modern Art and the Georges Pompidou Center. In 2004 he was selected for the lifetime achievement award of the Cooper Hewitt National Design Museum. As a Fulbright scholar, Glaser studied with the painter, Giorgio Morandi in Bologna, and is an articulate spokesman for the ethical practice of design and for the value of ‘commercial art.’

Several eons ago (paleolithic era, according to my kids) I lived in a college dorm room, quite a nice one as dorm rooms go. This was in England, mind you, so I suspect dorm rooms in the U.S., are generally more spacious (and come complete with an ensuite Starbucks). While dorm rooms and dorm facilities have evolved since my days at college, see then and now examples below – I read somewhere that the Rockoff Dorm at Rutgers University features a Coldstone Creamery, 7-Eleven and an expansive gym – I believe most dorm rooms the world over share some common attributes: never enough space for clothes or hair care products, boring blank walls, dismal lighting, lousy curtains, beds made for pre-teens, shelves that hold no more than one book of dangerous ideas or bottle of something delicious … you get the idea.

Then

Image courtesy of Gettysburg College, Digital Center Art (yours truly not pictured)

Now

Image courtesy of Rutgers University, New Brunswick Development Corporation and Time Magazine, 2010

While a major remodeling project sponsored by the Home Depot via your parents’ credit card or being featured on one of the many “designer-star-remodel-color-challenge-on-a-dime-organization-remix-divine-curb-appeal-creative-closet” reality TV shows is likely to put you at odds with your dorm neighbors and the college “police”, there is indeed hope.

I’ve listed below 10 important, and simple, dos and don’ts that you should consider when making the space your own. After all, your dorm room will reflect you, your personality, your tastes, your likes, your style. You’ll want to make a winning impression with your new neighbors in the real world – think life outside of Facebook.

Don’ts

1. Don’t line your dorm room walls with empty (or full) beer bottles or cans, especially those “lite” beers. This is so 1980s.

2. Please avoid the once ubiquitous Warhol, Marilyn, Che posters. See art-related “dos” below.

3. On the subject of posters, don’t use any that include the following imagery: cars, trucks, El Caminos, parts of the human body below the neck, UFOs, Godzilla movies, wrestlers, footballers, motivational slogans with images of mountains in the background, periodic table (unless you don’t want any new friends), vegetables.

4. Don’t fashion a table from user pizza boxes. Enough said.

5. Don’t assume revamping your Facebook (or Myspace) pages counts. Hanging out on Facebook can only go so far (yes, eventually you’ll have to socialize in person!), so you’ll still need a cool room.

6. Don’t hang audio speakers (if you’re beyond ‘phones and buds) on shared walls. You will quickly spawn a rivalry with your neighbors; one that you will not win after they invest in a professional Marshall amp and speakers having a total wattage that exceeds your zipcode by a factor of 10.

7. Don’t display any dead animals or tools or pictures of your parents or your rock collection (as in pebbles) , anywhere, in your room.

8. Don’t accessorize with any of the following: glitter ball smaller than 36 inches in diameter; multi-colored floor lamps (save these for your first retro apartment or pass them down to your kids, eventually); “plug-in miniature rock garden water feature” thingy; toaster oven (its use with cause odors to permanently permeate your cool clothes).

9. Don’t lay down any rugs that have a pile deeper than an 1/8th of an inch (you’ll be surprised what may end up lurking there), and avoid any fabric colors from any Martha Stewart palette.

10. Don’t confuse a well-organized display of your personal toiletries with good interior design. So, hide your hair products, shavers, tweezers, eye-liner, deodorant, puffs etc far away from other humans.

Dos

1. Get some real art on your walls. Display a well-edited selection of quality prints and paintings that show who you are, and that engage others. My top recommendation, of course, is art251 – a great source for affordable originals, prints and art-o-mat art at an astounding $5 per pull.

2. Buy a decent set of desk and floor lamps. You may not have time or inclination to open a book (during your first 2 years), but you’ll need light to illuminate a path around and over the inevitable piles of clothes. Good lights will let you change the mood of your room quickly and cheaply.

3. Check out online design resources to help you plan your space, organize your furniture. A great one is: DesignYourDorm.

4. Visit IKEA and/or Craigslist – probably two of the best sources for affordable furniture and accessories and even room mates (the latter only for room mates).

5. If you must make pictures of your family visible, display these randomly intermingled with a vast assortment of other random photographs of random objects. This will ensure suitable anonymity and distance.

6. Invest in a good set of sheets, blankets, pillows and comforter, and, for that matter, bring your own bed. You’ll need to insulate yourself from what has gone before. Better still, find someone to give you a new futon as a gift.

7. Buy storage bins that fit under your bed, which will allow you to instantaneously hide all the clutter that you will find the need to hide from people who don’t yet wish to know all about you.

8. Find an interesting potted plant and challenge yourself to keep it alive for more than one semester.

9. Buy a couple of white boards, one for inside the room, one to post messages outside your door. Yes, this is like your Facebook wall, and will add color and creativity to your non-digital persona (yes, you do have one and you may be surprised to find that others will wish to meet it).

10. Do have fun (and learn) – you’ll discover that it will be one of the best times of your life!

Artist Caleb Larsen seems to have the right idea. Rather than relying on the subjective wants and needs of galleries and the dubious nature of the secondary art market (and some equally dubious auctioneers) his art sells itself.

His work, entitled “A Tool to Deceive and Slaughter”, is an 8-inch opaque, black acrylic cube. But while the exterior may be simplicity itself, the interior holds a fascinating premise. The cube is connected to the internet. In fact, it’s connected to eBay, where through some hidden hardware and custom programming it constantly auctions itself.

As Caleb Larsen describes,

Combining Robert Morris’ Box With the Sound of Its Own Making with Baudrillard’s writing on the art auction this sculpture exists in eternal transactional flux. It is a physical sculpture that is perptually attempting to auction itself on eBay.

Every ten minutes the black box pings a server on the internet via the ethernet connection to check if it is for sale on the ebay. If its auction has ended or it has sold, it automatically creates a new auction of itself.

If a person buys it on eBay, the current owner is required to send it to the new owner. The new owner must then plug it into ethernet, and the cycle repeats itself.

The purchase agreement on eBay is quite rigorous, including stipulations such as: the buyer must keep the artwork connected to the interent at all times with disconnections allowed only for the transportation; upon purchase the artwork must be reauctioned; failure to follow all terms of the agreement forfeits the status of the artwork as a genuine work of art.

The artist was also smart enough to gain a slice of the secondary market, by requiring each buyer to return to the artist 15 percent of the appreciated value from each sale. Christie’s and Sotheby’s eat your hearts out.

Besides trying to put auctioneers out of work, the artist has broader intentions in mind, particularly when viewed alongside his larger body of work. The piece goes to the heart of the “how” and the “why” of the art market. By placing the artwork in a constant state of transactional fluidity – it’s never permanently in the hands of its new owner – it forces us to question the nature of art in relation to its market and the nature of collecting. The work can never without question be owned and collected since it is always possible that someone else will come along, enter the auction and win. Though, the first “owner” of the piece states that this was part of the appeal. Terence Spies, a California collector attests,

I had a really strong reaction right after I won the auction. I have this thing, and I really want to keep it, but the reason I want to keep it is that it might leave… The process of the piece really gets to some of the reasons why you might be collecting art in the first place.

Now of course, owning anything is transient. The Egyptian pharaohs tried taking their possessions into the “afterlife” but even to this day are being constantly thwarted by tomb-raiders and archeologists. Perhaps to some the chase, the process of collecting, is the goal, rather than owning the art itself. As I believe Caleb Larsen intended, he’s really given me something to ponder. How different, really, is it to own this self-selling art versus wandering through the world’s museums and galleries to “own” a Picasso or Warhol or Monet for 5 minutes? Ironically, our works live on, and it is we who are transient. So I think Caleb Larsen’s title for the work should be taken tongue in cheek, for it is we who are deceiving ourselves.

As galleries frequently do, we’ve been refreshing our walls again at art251. New artists, new artworks to display means that it’s time to move and/or store some of our older works. While it’s a very satisfying process to see new art on our walls, especially art that may never have hung before, it’s tinged with sadness. We retire the previous works; they come down to make way for the new fresh art. Yet, I really do miss many of the pieces that we have to “undisplay”. One of may favorites, “Birds on a Wire”, a beautiful black and white photograph by Sean Fitzgerald, just suffered such as fate. I found its stark simplicity refreshing. But it had another quality too. I sometimes believe I could hear it – the composition looked like sheet music. I wonder what an orchestra would have made of it.

Earlier this year (Spring 2009) I unveiled the art251 Art Health Index (AHI). You may recall we use the AHI to measure the relative strength of the fine art economy in our area. It’s an objective and subjective measure and includes: smiles on the faces of our customers; periods of quiet contemplation looking at new art; sighs of satisfaction from the artist whose work we are featuring for the first time; simultaneous conversations about art; art teachers within the space; average time visitors spend looking at artwork; ratio of small shoe size (kids) to large shoe size (adults); and empty wine glasses and Italian soda bottles.

So, I’m happy to report that the AHI for October 2009 remains vibrant and stable. This follows our successful Opening Reception for Sean Fitzgerald’s exhibit Man And Nature on October 29. While the wine and refreshments are gone, Sean’s stunning images will remain on our walls until the end of November 2009.

I’m still drafting my definitive answer to the question “what makes great art, great?” As you may guess this is no simple task. After all, the question has taxed philosophers, pitted aesthetes against one another, confounded critics and perplexed mere mortals, such as myself, since cave dwellers first etched and painted on the walls of their prehistoric (more precisely, Mesolithic) European “homes”, over 30,000 years ago. Though, I suspect that one of the qualities of great art is that it is lasting ? great art creates a truly lasting impression, both on the individual and on the culture.

So, while recently wondering the canyons of New York city and contemplating the weighty issue of “what is great art”, I stumbled across one of contemporary art’s venerable institutions, the Gagosian. Now, strictly speaking this was the Gagosian Store on Madison Avenue, not one of the famed Gagosian Galleries. Yet, etched on the glass walls I found a simple proclamation. There it was, an anti-definition staring me right in the face, in bold, white? lettering – “Pop Art is:”

More often than not I’ve found that it’s easier to define something by first deciding what it is not; by envisioning its opposite state, and then working backwards towards a solution. So, the “definition” of Pop Art struck me as rather apt. Perhaps, truly great art is not “gimmicky”, it’s certainly not “mass-produced”, it may not be “popular” (initially), and it’s definitely not “transient”. Yes, I believe, thanks to Pop Art, I am somewhat closer to an elusive answer on the nature of great art.

In the meantime, and back to our prehistoric ancestors, I wonder if the artists who created these ancient works had to contend with prehistoric critics (perhaps brandishing clubs), prehistoric gallery directors (perhaps dressed in neutral black animal hides), and prehistoric art lovers wanting the works framed or in a different hue or looking for something in a more “traditional” Paleolithic style.

Were our ancient artistic ancestors misunderstood? Did they have creative tantrums? Did they have second jobs? Did they have good gallery representation, perhaps in the “grand community cave”? Were they concerned that the next big art movement would consign their works to the artistic rubbish heap? Regardless, the passage of 30,000 years has brought some of this great art into the present. It’s interesting to ponder if any of our contemporary or Modern or Pop Art, could withstand the flow of 30 millenia. I think mostly not. It may be “big business”, but it’s certainly not truly great art.

18th-century Church of Santa Maria del Suffragio. Image courtesy of The New York Times.

The earthquake in central Italy last week zeroed in on the beautiful medieval hill town of L’Aquila. It claimed the lives of 294 young and old, injured several thousand more, and made tens of thousands homeless. This is a heart-wrenching human tragedy. It’s also a cultural one. The quake razed centuries of L’Aquila’s historical buildings, broke the foundations of many of the town’s churches and public spaces, destroyed countless cultural artifacts, and forever buried much of the town’s irreplaceable art under tons of twisted iron and fractured stone.

Like many small and lesser known towns in Italy, L?Aquila did not boast a roster of works by ?a-list? artists on its walls, ceilings and piazzas; no Michelangelos or Da Vincis here, no works by Giotto or Raphael. And yet, the cultural loss is no less significant, for the quake destroyed much of the common art that the citizens of L?Aquila shared as a social bond. It?s the everyday art that they passed on their way to home or school or work; the fountains in the piazzas, the ornate porticos, the painted building facades, the hand-carved doors, the marble statues on street corners, the frescoes and paintings by local artists hanging on the ordinary walls. It?s this everyday art – the art that surrounded and nourished the citizens of L?Aquila – that is gone.

New York Times columnist, Michael Kimmelman put it this way in his April 11, 2009 article:

Italy is not like America. Art isn?t reduced here to a litany of obscene auction prices or lamentations over the bursting bubble of shameless excess. It?s a matter of daily life, linking home and history. Italians don?t visit museums much, truth be told, because they already live in them and can?t live without them. The art world might retrieve a useful lesson from the rubble.

My business travels have brought me to the island of Manhattan again, and my free time has led me to the vibrant arts district of Chelsea. This area probably has more art galleries per square yard than there are Starbucks in the entire United States. Roughly bounded by 10th and 11th Avenues and 23rd to 28th Streets, Chelsea is a must for any serious (or silly) aficionado of contemporary art.

Since there are so many art galleries in Chelsea ? probably in the neighborhood of 250 ? I thought it would be interesting to take a detailed, but informal, survey. So, here is my first annual art gallery vibe survey. It’s comprised of visits to 34 art galleries, so while not entirely statistically significant, it’s certainly a good sampling. The survey focuses on the galleries rather than their contents, the art.

But first, I have to interject a quick word about the art itself. I must say that the quality of the art in Chelsea is astounding. Of course, there is no shortage of the big names on display; Lichtenstein, Rauschenberg, Warhol, Basquiat, Picasso. And, then there’s a vast array of less expensive and great art by still-living artists. Generally, the work is bolder, more vibrant, more edgy, though sometimes more subtle, than its counterpart in the land of art251?? suburban Dallas / Ft.Worth. That’s not to say that our art is of poorer quality or our artists are less talented. Rather, there is just so much more art in the Big Apple! There is a greater variation of themes, more experimentation, richer media; the art is usually on a grander scale, not just in size, but in ideas, and often has political or social undercurrents. I challenge you to find a gallery in Chelsea that deals in purely “decorative” works. Without a doubt, the art gets a resounding 10 out of 10.

So, now on to the main focus of this article, the galleries. My first annual art gallery vibe survey takes a good look at the overall gallery design, dress code of the gallery staff, ambiance of the gallery, information about the art on display, and general approachability of employees.

1. Gallery design.? All of the galleries visited were immaculate. Bright white walls. Dull, but buffed, gray concrete floors, and crisp lighting. About 50 percent had a gallerist seated behind a computer screen behind a desk at the front of the gallery; 25 percent had a gallerist seated behind a computer screen behind a desk at the rear of the gallery. Curiously, the remaining 25 percent had gallery staff seated behind a computer screen, behind a desk, behind a white wall partition separating them from the rest of the space, except for a narrow opening at about waist to forehead height, usually 6-8ft long. Hiding gallery staff behind a tall partition or a large desk sends a distinct message, “leave all gallery staff alone, they’re too busy”. This seems to cause unnecessary detachment and aloofness, and I know many (not all) galleries are not striving for this type of atmosphere. And, the oh-so minimalist walls are just rather too bare. After visiting about 6 galleries, they all started to look the same. So, overall gallery design gets a 4 out of ten.

2. Dress code.? I don’t mean clothing worn by customers (though this could be the subject of another colorful blog article), but the clothing worn by the gallery staff themselves. A resounding 80 percent of gallery staff wore mostly black. Both male and female. Black shoes, black heels, black suites, black jeans, black shirts, black leggings, black shirts, black skirts. A sea of blackness in silhouette against the pristine white walls. Now, bear in mind that this is New York City, and it’s late winter, and most who live here, are also dressed in black. But, black in this context seems to project a message of detachment. I’m not sure why so much wonderful art and vibrant color causes gallery employees to dress so darkly. Wouldn’t you expect the opposite? So, general gallery dress code gets a 3.

3. General ambiance.? 75 percent of the galleries in Chelsea, have steel framed doors with frosted glass. Around 50 percent have opaque windows. One has to make an effort to go inside. Not exactly inviting. Inside, many look the same. They are not just neutral, but somewhat austere and barren; shrines to somber minimalism. The art hangs on these walls reluctantly; it doesn’t seem to wish to live there. The rarefied atmosphere in these galleries seems to drain the visual vitality from the work. One gallery, so steeped in its own fame, posted more security guards per square foot than I’ve seen at the National Gallery. Another, cavernous space of around 5,000 square feet had three small paintings on its walls. I believe that most people who love art, and most people who buy art live in spaces that look nothing like these art galleries. Many potential art buyers simply cannot identify with this type of presentation. Yet, this seems to confound many gallery owners. So, general gallery ambiance gets a score of 2.

4. Information about the art.? 89 percent of the galleries visited provided no information about the art on display anywhere near the art itself. So, no wall tags, no title, no artist bio. Only one gallery displayed price information next to the works. When galleries hide their prices they send two very clear messages. First, the art is too expensive for you. Second, prices are negotiable based on who you are. Now, to be fair, most galleries did display a catalog of works by the gallerists’ desk, and most displayed the name of the featured artist(s) on an entrance wall. But, overall, for limited availability of information, especially prices, I award a measly score of 1 out of ten.

5. Staff approachability.? This is a the most sobering statistic. Of the 34 galleries visited, not one gallery employee in any of the galleries offered a simple greeting. Not one even acknowledged my presence in their gallery. Not one provided a thank you or a goodbye as I left. In 30 of these galleries the employees were not interacting with anyone else in the space; of the remaining four: in three of the galleries the employees were chatting amongst themselves; and in only one was a gallerist talking to a visitor. Now, I do like to look at art without the commentary of an art dealer breathing over my shoulder. However, I believe a simple, “hello” or “thank you for visiting our gallery” or “please let me know if you have any questions” or “goodbye”, would be in order. Thus, staff approachability gets a score of zero.

So, as a gallery owner, I’ve learned some lessons from my survey: greet and thank all visitors, not just customers with checkbooks; don’t always dress in black?? customers can distinguish between gallery employees and the art on the walls; give the gallery space a personality that complements the art ? neutral need not mean barren; provide information about the artist and his or her art, and display it prominently; provide clear and consistent pricing for all, and don’t negotiate (sales are allowed). Above all it’s clear that most galleries need to do a better job of making art more approachable so people can find their own meaning, and not the converse, which usually seems to involve wrapping an art object in a manufactured mystique that conveys status. Well, enough! It’s time for me to see some more fabulous original art… in Chelsea of course!

Some gallery owners will answer this without hesitating. A successful art show? Of course, they’ll point to sales before, during and after the show, or the show’s immediate return on investment. Others might count checks, credit card swipes or the number of times the cash drawer opens (yes, some people still buy art with cash). Some might measure the square footage of new art for the show in relation to the overall space of the gallery. Some gallery directors even try to assess the economic status imparted from the clothing and jewelry worn by their victims customers to determine potential prospects and projected sales. Others will compare sales of new works to long-term collectors versus sales to “one-off” newbies. And, still others might examine some type of exotic accounting measurement pitting gross actual revenues against the projected lost opportunity cost of doing something, well, more financially financial (such as running a hedge fund). Hmm.

Well art251 likes to do things just slightly differently. Yes, we do look at sales and we manage our show expenses, but that’s sort of a necessary evil and dull. It’s a process not a goal!

So, here’s how we measure success at art251. We measure the local “art health index” (AHI). The AHI is a quantitative measure of the following: smiles on the faces of our customers; periods of quiet contemplation looking at new art; sighs of satisfaction from the artist whose work we are featuring for the first time; simultaneous conversations about art; art teachers within the space; average time visitors spend looking at artwork; ratio of small shoe size (kids) to large shoe size (adults); and of course, empty wine glasses and Italian soda bottles.

Given some time I’ll invent some trend charts that show our measures in relation to the overall art health of our community. However, I do know that the AHI for our suburban oasis in Keller was rather positive during our Opening Reception on March 6 for Temple of Flora, featuring Bryan Wetz’s new works, and it is generally on the increase.

I’ve been doing some part-time consulting recently ? copious amounts of frequent flier miles, shoeless shuffles through airport security, mad taxi drivers, crowded subway trips and meetings over dinner. You get the idea. As a result, I now get to spend lots of quality time in hotels; hanging around lobbies waiting for co-workers, walking the endless hallways and sharing a 250 s.f room with a mini-bar (incidentally, which I never touch). Luckily I get to stay in some rather grand places, and yet the hallways and the lobbies and the rooms are all so, well, beige and boring.

Now, most hotels usually hang a print or two in each guest room. Some might display a work that is fitting of the hotel’s location, a skyline of Manhattan in a New York City hotel, for instance. Others will show a nameless abstract that matches the tones in the carpeting. Many will stick with the tried and tested route ? reproduction drawings of botanical subjects from old apothecary books. Yawn! See what I mean…

Help!

I’ve had it with staid and homogeneous hotel decor, which after all is probably set by a corporate committee of revenue management employees. It would be such a refreshing departure to have some unique, colorful and vibrant works hanging in each hotel room, spanning the endless hallways and greeting guests in the public spaces. In fact, I’ve been thinking of starting my own “Fight Homogeneity” campaign, but where to begin! Anyway, back to the problem at hand, my hotel.

Now, to be fair, we are blessed with some real art hotels, run by art lovers for art lovers. But, these are still very much in the minority. There’s the Hotel Max in Seattle, the Hotel des Arts in San Francisco, and the grande dame of artistic hostelries, the Chambers in Minneapolis. In fact, the Chambers is so hip it even has an art-o-mat machine (just like art251). Though, I have to say that some of the art on display in its public spaces may not be to the taste of a typical hotel guest?? the Chamber’s reception is adorned with Damien Hirst’s Judas Iscariot from the The Twelve Disciples series (a bull’s head, representing St.James, suspended in formaldehyde). Europe has a growing collection of art-friendly hotels, so perhaps we are witnessing an interesting new trend.

So, to the general manager of the anonymous mid-town Manhattan hotel from where I am currently writing this missive, I say:

“Please join my fight to bring more color and creativity into this world. Destroy those faded botanical prints. Free your hotel from the shackles of corporate dullness. Search out the talented local artists. Take pride in showcasing new and original work. Please put some real art back in my hotel.”

This post is tangentially about art, though more so about the creative process. If you have kids it’s highly likely that you’ve either played with or tripped over or patiently looked for one of Hans Beck’s beautiful creations. Hans created the original Playmobil characters ? a builder, a knight and a Native American ? back in 1974, and worked for the German toy manufacturer, Brandst?tter, until 1998. Mr.Beck died on Friday, January 30 after a long illness.

Hans Beck’s range of characters and accessories has expanded considerably since the early days. Just witness our own: we have horse riders, Roman centurions, bearded pirates, characters from the Nativity, circus performers, farm animals, and caped heroes, to name but a few. And, of course, he have countless accoutrements including desks, bedside tables, lampshades, beds, ladders, hats, and even a toilet.

Image courtesy of Ria, aged 6 years.

Statistics show sales of over 2.2 billion Playmobil characters, most of which are constantly scattered around our home. Our 6 year old twins love these toys. A correction: calling them toys does a disservice. They’re really portals into an immersive, colorful and fluid imaginary world. The families of characters fight and make up; they have sleep-overs and make-overs; they rescue one another from harm; they build and manufacture; they fight invaders (legos) from other worlds; they open up shop, and they go bankrupt; they fly and dance and run and somersault; they have good and not-so-good relationships; they laugh and cry; they’re born, and they die (and here’s the good part, they live again).

So, Mr.Beck thank you, and your colleagues, for bringing joy to my kids, bringing us (the adults) some respite, though I usually end up playing too, and for opening young minds to worlds of possibilities. The free and complex play that your Playmobil characters evoke is simply the best kind.

I’ve been pondering a concrete answer to this question, and others like it for some time. I do wonder “what is art?” and “what is great art?” and “what distinguishes fine art from its non-fine cousins?” and “what makes some art better than other art?”

In formulating my answers to these questions I’ve been looking inward and searching outward. I’ve been digesting the musings of our great philosophers and eminent scholars and authors. I’m close to penning some blog-worthy articles that crystallize my current thinking on the subject, but I’m not quite ready. Not yet. So, in the meantime you and I will have to make do with deep thoughts on the subject of art from some of my friends…