The pageantry of collecting art
Art collectors are pretty insignificant in the scheme of things. What matters and survives is the art. — Charles Saatchi
Iremember meeting a collector a few years ago and he told me he had started collecting art for the past nine months. He was very happy to tell me about the works he was collecting and the artists he was following. He even introduced himself by saying, “Hi, I’m an art collector.” I found the conversation very amusing, as he was so excited to tell us his story of how he came to collecting and was bold to express his taste in art. But then he told me something that was quite startling: he had been buying at a minimum rate of one work per week. As he was speaking, I was quietly running the numbers in my head and calculated that the guy amassed at least 36 works of art in less than a year.
I looked at his collection and just as I was afraid of, none of it made sense. It was hard to comprehend what he was drawn to or what he was trying to achieve by procuring so much works, as it was evident that he had spent a lot of money and effort trying to put together a collection. He bought so much so quickly that he couldn’t really say what he really liked about the works. Not a single inch in his apartment was spared, that even the ceiling was filled with paintings. I remember leaving that place feeling a little lightheaded and perplexed.
Then not so long ago, another person came to me telling me he is doing the exact same thing. Excited at the prospect of becoming part of the art circles and wielding himself as a collector, he made it a mission to buy several paintings each month. This time, he preferred the auction houses to the galleries.
There’s a collector’s fever, and it has been going on for a while. I must admit, I caught this fever when I first moved back to Manila in 2013. For maybe two to three months I got caught up in the thrill of buying a few pieces, attending all the openings and entertaining the fantasy that I may have in my possession possibly some of the most valuable works of art in Philippine art history. Oh boy, was I wrong!
I admit, I was guilty of being impetuous and self-indulgent, and it was so tempting to become so. The art world is fun and colorful, especially in the Philippines where the sense of community is so deep-seated in the art scene. As I slowly slipped into the circles, I set up a small budget and I decided to collect. In the process, I was able to make the best of friends with such wonderful people: artists, curators, collectors, and gallerists. Among the collectors, they loved to talk about stories of their conquests, what they bought, how many pieces and their inventory list of art works. I thought it was amusing at first to observe this kind of pride and pageantry, while an intellectual or curious discussion about the artworks would seldom surface.
In the end, though, I was surrounded by a great group of friends, many of whom I deeply respect, therefore making it hard for me to be critical — until I looked at the entirety of what I had collected. The quality of my collection suggested my state of mind: confused. I’ll probably be hanged for saying what I just said, but I can’t help it. I made a lot of mistakes collecting art, thinking I was on to something significant. I let myself be distracted by my ego, the competition and the noise around me; I forgot to really look and think about the works and what I was really interested in.
It was at this point I realized that the moment you start commodifying art, and if you perhaps have a large enough pocket to jumpstart that collection, your vision can get blurred. I saw that in myself two years ago, and I see that in many collectors now. So many are after the chase and the kick of closing a good deal. When they talk about their collection, they will tell you stories of acquisitions. If we continue this way, I’m afraid the history of art books will tell tales of our generations’ tremendous hammer prices, clever tricks in the market, discoveries of art superstars, and extravagant collections put together overnight. Don’t get me wrong, I think the history of the art market is also an important part of art history, however not enough criticism and discourse surrounds the market. I wonder what history will say about these “superstar” collections, and which art works of this day will truly stand the test of time.
Some of the great collectors and art patrons I have met will talk about their own mistakes and regretful decisions in the past. There seems to be periodic bouts of “palette-cleansing” among collectors, as their tastes naturally change, getting exposed to new ideas, seeing new exhibitions, new experiences. They believe its all part of training one’s eye, acquiring a discerning taste in art. Such training consists of reading art history books, endless discussions with artists, dealers, curators and critics. You’ll find that the most interesting collectors have a diverse interest and in-depth knowledge, not just in art itself, but also in various fields such as literature, architecture, film, philosophy, etc. But most importantly, they have a kind of ruthless passion. The best collectors have a real and sincere passion for art, and it shows; just in the same way a terrible collector can appear insincere and reckless.
So the lesson I take from my foolish impatience is this: take your time and surround yourself with people who offer stimulating conversation. Take part in the contemporary art discourse and figure out what really resonates with you. A budget, no matter how big or small, is not enough to amass a great collection. Take Herb and Dorothy Vogel, the post office clerk and librarian who collected one of the most significant collections of Conceptual and Minimalist art. Their prudence and incredible relentlessness (to the point of annoying) led them to becoming two of the most important collectors in America, despite their meager salaries, famously known for saying, “You don’t have to be a Rockefeller to collect art.”
I’m learning my way around the art world as I go, and for me that means to stop collecting like I used to. It’s been a great cathartic experience, albeit exhausting and somewhat manic. Besides the fact that I’ve already expended my art budget, which immediately disqualifies me in the pageant, I’m back to where I started only with a little less savings but a bit more perspective. Hopefully.
The moment you start commodifying art, and if you perhaps have a large enough pocket to jumpstart that collection, your vision can get blurred.