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…

Many of us make resolutions to usher in a New Year. I’m no different. So my non-exhaustive list, in no particular order (until my wife inserts several more) will signal some important changes for 2009:

1. I will get more exercise. OK, this one’s easy: I’ll hang, move, and re-arrange art around art251 more often (courtesy of my 10 ft ladder), and I’ll lift weights (thanks to James Johnson’s one-of-a-kind hand-forged steel).
2. I will continue not to smoke. I don’t smoke, and never have. But I do have an old cigarette machine, now living out its life inside art251 as a beautiful blue art-o-mat machine, selling $5 works of art.
3. I will travel more (often vicariously). I’ll revisit Africa and other exotic locales (courtesy of Sean Fitzgerald’s photographs), NYC (thanks to photo-real paintings by Michael Longhofer), and quiet Texas hill country towns (Melinda Brown).
4. I will try to dress more stylishly. If not, I’ll just look at Trish Biddle’s beautiful paintings of glamorous women in fabulous places, and imagine myself in another place and time.
5. I will add more color to my life, thanks to Scott Young, David Gappa, and Melissa Ayr. And I’ll look for patterns for success (Fil Booth)
6. I will be more environmentally conscious; I will enjoy peaceful co-existence with wildlife (Brian Davis), and I’ll say goodbye to the second car and hello bicycle (Kelly Berry).
7. I will tune in my inner child more often – I’ll dream of flying in space (Marnie Vollenhals) and play with my kids’ toys (Ivette Ramos).
8. I will seek my softer side (thanks, Sara Moe).
9. I will stop thinking in terms of black and white, but look at the world more in shades of grey (Drew Liedtke).
10. I will slow down and take more time for tea (using Kim Norris’s unique pottery).
11. I will enjoy the little things and simple pleasures in life (Faith Scott Jessup).
12. I will spend more time outdoors, enjoying nature’s wealth (Dana Blanchard).
13. I will pursue a more spiritual plane in my daily life (Chad Beene).
14. I will build a relaxing and meditative environment (Aditi Samarth).

Water Lilies. Claude Monet. Musee de l’Orangerie, Paris.

Today’s story offers an example of why Kim and I decided to open an art gallery. We’ve had the doors open at art251 for only around 4 months. We’re art newbies, relatively speaking. We’ve had no lengthy sales trends yet that would help us decide if or when to open during the holiday period. So, on December 26 we opened shop not knowing if anyone at all would visit our space.

A family of six, covering three generations, spent around an hour with us today, December 26. Yes, they bought some art, and some artpaks from our beautiful blue art-o-mat machine. But that’s not why I write. The family browsed and soaked in the art, they asked questions about artists and artistic processes, they were deliberate and thoughtful. On leaving, one of the group told me that beforehand they had decided to make visiting art251 a holiday event! Yes, they visited an art gallery; not the mall, not the electronics store. They had planned this out. They came to enjoy the art and to share some of their art purchases with one another.

I couldn’t imagine a better gift for us: knowing that some (a growing number) people truly appreciate art and bringing art to others, and that art can and does have an significant influence (usually positive). We are greatly encouraged.

This reinforces our mission for art251, and especially so, during these times of crisis whether cultural, moral or financial. Art can provide enjoyment; the beautiful form of a monumental sculpture or the well-composed lines and colors of a fine painting can be very pleasing. A Wii (and many other electronic gizmos) bring pleasure too. But art can and does go further. Art can bring solace, it can excite, it can evoke intense memories, it can inspire, it can soothe, it can provide respite, it can make us question, it can help us uncover new realities, it can calm our souls and enliven our spirits. So, I’d encourage you to put down that Wii (you’re probably over-borrowing it from your kids anyway), go and discover some great (local) art, and reconnect yourself to the inner spark that is so often buried by the daily grind or replaced by the TV remote.

I couldn’t resist posting this great photograph of Herb and Dorothy Vogel. They were caught reading the exclusive list of patrons to the National Gallery of Art, in Washington, D.C. You may recall, over a period of 40 years they built the leading collection of contemporary conceptual and minimalist art, and all on the salary of a postal clerk and librarian. Over the last 10 years or so they’ve been donating their collection of over 4,000 works to museums in all 50 States, including the National Gallery.

So, it’s very fitting that their names are also chiseled in the marble at the National Gallery. Read more of their story in my previous article, here.

The still is courtesy of “HERB & DOROTHY, an Arthouse Films release 2009″.

I’m missing Art Basel | Miami this year. Last year’s event and surrounding shows displayed so much contemporary (and some modern) art, from so many artists and galleries that my head was buzzing for days afterward. This year I have our art251 gallery to co-run, so I’ve been visiting Art Basel virtually – reading the press releases, following the exhibitors and tuning in to the podcasts and vids, using the great tubes of the internet.

The best story by far to emerge this year from Art Basel | Miami is the continuing odyssey of Herb and Dorothy Vogel, their passion for contemporary art and their outstanding collection. On December 5, the documentary “Herb and Dorothy” was screened at Art Basel’s Art Loves Film night. And so their real-life art fairytale goes something like this…

Over the last 40-plus years they have amassed a cutting-edge, world-class collection of contemporary art. In all they have collected around 4,000 works. Over time they have crammed art into every spare inch of space inside their one-bedroom Manhattan apartment. In 1992 they gave around 2,000 important pieces – paintings, drawings and sculptures – to the National Gallery of Art, in Washington, D.C. Then, in April of this year the National Gallery announced that an additional 2,500 of Vogels’ artworks would go to museums across the country: fifty works for fifty States. The National Gallery simply didn’t have enough space to house the Vogel’s immense collection.

So, why is this story so compelling?

Well, it’s compelling because they are just like you and me. They are not super-rich, they have no condo in Aspen, nor do they moor a yacht in Monte Carlo. They’re not hedge fund managers. They didn’t make a fortune before the dot.com bubble burst.

Herb Vogel, 86, is a retired postal clerk and Dorothy Vogel, 76, a retired librarian. They started collecting art in the 1960s and continue to this day. Their plan was simple and guided by two rules: the art had to be affordable, and small enough to fit in their apartment. Early on they decided to use Herb’s income for buying art, and Dorothy’s to paying living expenses. Though now retired they still follow the plan. They collect art because they love art and finding new art. In Dorothy’s words,

“We didn’t buy this art to make money… We did it to enjoy the art. And you know, it gives you a nice feeling to actually own it, and have it about you. … We started buying art for ourselves, in the 1960s, and from the beginning we chose carefully.”

More telling is Dorothy’s view of the art world, and the New York art scene:

“We never really got close to other people who collect… Most collectors have a lot of money, and they don’t go about their collecting in quite the same way. My husband had wanted to be an artist, and I learned from him. We were living vicariously through the work of every artist we bought. At some point, we realized that collecting this art was a sort of creative act. It became our art, in more ways than one. … I enjoyed the search, I guess. The looking and the finding. When you go to a store, and you’re searching for your size, don’t you get satisfaction when you find it?”

And Herb adds the final words:

“The art itself.”

So, within their modest means and limitations they have proved to be visionaries; many of the artists they supported early on have since become world-renowned. And, they have taken their rightful place among the great art collectors of the world, such as Getty and Rockefeller, and Broad and Saatchi. The Vogels used their limitations to their advantage – helping them focus, rather than being a hinderance. Above all, they used their eyes to find and collect great art, not their ears.

“You’re fired!”, exclaims bad boy of British art scene, Damien Hirst, to his “employees”. Yes, even Mr.Hirst is suffering from the bursting of the high-end art bubble, brought upon by the recent implosion of the world’s financial system. So, after raking in around $200 million from sales in September, he is now laying off a large proportion of his staff. Now, these employees are not his backoffice staff or his publicists. No, they’re the workers who paint most of his “original” pieces — think, butterflies, colored dots, pills. If you’d like to read more about this, check out the November 22 article from the Guardian.

This brings me back to the title of this article. It turns out that the bursting art bubble may not necessarily be that bad after all. Three reasons. First, art that had reached stratospherically high prices, mostly due to financial speculation, is now suddenly much more affordable. Second, as people revisit their portfolios and their investment strategies, many are realizing that art makes a lasting and wonderful emotional and spiritual investment, moreso than a financial one. Third, a crisis always brings opportunity and innovation, and weeds out mediocrity. So, this is a great time to find great art from exceptional emerging and established artists who will still be producing art — not just because it sells, but because they have an emotional and spiritual need to do so. Much great art comes about in this way.

In a previous blog article I pontificated about the outsourcing of artists (and gallerists). Then it occurred to me that the art world could (notice I didn’t say should) probably outsource art critics in one fell swoop. A simple computer program could do the trick. The the Instant Art Critique Generator as it is known can generate a few well chosen sentences that you can use to describe a piece of art. Use it if your stuck for words, or if you wish to impress a fellow art critic, and if you desire to keep your meaning totally impenetrable!

Give the Instant Art Critique Phrase Generator another try, right here. This wonderful piece of work is courtesy of Eric Hayes from teamh.com via Pixmaven.

Over the last few months our effort to find, choose and sign artists for art251 has become rather intense.

We have tens of piles of hundreds of pages of thousands of images of art and artist bios and statements scattered (neatly) all over our house. We’ve categorized the type of art we’d be excited to display in art251, we’ve listed the artists whose work we’d be honored to show. We’ve sorted and classified, and mixed and matched, and grouped and prioritized. Although, in part, this has been an analytical process, it’s also been rewarding and enjoyable to look at so much wonderful and diverse art.

However, this has paled in comparison to meeting the artists themselves. We’ve been welcomed into people’s homes. We’ve been treated to detailed tours of artists’ studios. We’ve visited studios in suburban garages (yes, the great American entrepreneurial dream lives on), converted offices, spare rooms bursting with art, beautiful downtown lofts, back rooms overlooking calm and quiet gardens, studios in gardens, upstairs in reclaimed guest rooms, and downstairs in re-purposed dining rooms.

Above all, we’ve met some great people with vision, creative talent, intellectual curiosity and passion. Some have been shy and intense, others effervescent and assertive. Yet, all have been open and trusting and welcoming and warm, and genuinely excited to join us in this crazy quest to enliven and stir-up the suburbs. Over time, we hope the artists with whom we work will grow in stature and reputation, and it would be a delight to have them as friends. For us, we look at this as a great learning experience, and although we’ve yet to open we’ve been learning new things each day. Sometimes we find ourselves acquiring very discrete and interesting knowledge: glass fusing techniques, laying encaustic, inventing colors, sculpting steel or digitally stitching prints. But more often than not we also find ourselves learning at a broader level: taking in alternate world views, soaking in new perspectives and listening to diverse philosophies and politics. So, while we’re just at the very beginning of this process, I’m finding this experience to be beautiful and mind-opening, and I’m overwhelmed at the level of trust that greets us each time an artist opens her or his door to us.

Some artists have asked us this recently, and the answer is no, not yet. Before I go on let me explain the acronym soup:

• FWADA – Ft.Worth Art Dealers Association
• DADA – Dallas Art Dealers Association
• NADA – New Art Dealers Alliance
• ADAA – Art Dealers Association of America
• FADA – Fine Art Dealers Association

Both, FWADA and DADA represent some great galleries and art spaces in their respective geographic zones. We’re not a member of either art association for two reasons. First, we’re located in the suburban “no-man’s land” sandwiched between Ft.Worth and Dallas, sometimes referred to as the Mid-cities. We’re like the neighborhood stray that nobody wants, yet. Second, we’re a new business, and these two esteemed organizations require a new gallery to be in existence for at least 2 years before a newbie is admitted. I haven’t had time to pursue and challenge the reasoning behind this rule, yet.

NADA, on the other hand has nationwide members, mostly new and rising galleries specializing in contemporary art and emerging artists. But ironically in this case, art251 is too “new” for the New Art Dealers Alliance, and also we’re not in a fashionable or phat (you pick the adjective) part of the world, yet.

As for ADAA and FADA, we’ll, we’re not likely to even warrant a canned email response, yet.

Go further afield and you’ll find BADA (Boston), ADAC (Chicago), HADA (Houston), PADA (Private), SADA (Seattle), SFADA (San Francisco). I think you get the idea.

I suppose we could start our own art dealers association for (K)eller or the (M)id-cities, but I wonder about the negative consequences of a poorly chosen acronym that has a colorful meaning in another language. I’m worn out, the acronyms are making me feel faint — I escaped the technology industry a while ago to avoid acronyms. So, please let us know if you find some others, and your suggestions for our own personal art association are most welcome.