Gallery owner’s art-filled life
with Mary Ann Weems
Sell the gallery or die.
Mary Ann Weems says several people offered the same sobering advice after her devastating heart attack in 2013. But for Weems — one of the most recognizable forces in the Albuquerque art scene — that would just make things worse for her already wounded myocardium.
“I said, ‘No, I can’t. I can’t,’” Weems recalls, sitting in her small back office at Weems Galleries and Framing in northeast Albuquerque. “I’ve done it too long. That would break my heart.”
Weems opened her gallery in 1981, having grown antsy as a stay-at-home mom to two young children. She had always loved art — as a kid, she made chalk drawings of cartoon characters on the Carlsbad sidewalks — and went to college with aspirations of becoming an art teacher. But with those jobs few and far between, Weems tried life as a homemaker. It was a bad fit. “I wanted to do it. I really did. But I was terrible at it. I mean, I love my children — don’t misunderstand me — but I was bored,” she says. “There was only so much I could do.”
Weems launched her gallery with a goal of making art more accessible (read: affordable). She’s spent the last 33 years building and nurturing the business, keeping it alive through hardships even she says it probably shouldn’t have survived.
Her devotion contributed to her divorce and some serious stress, she says. But the gallery also has won its candid and gregarious founder — who jokes that her laugh is audible from a block away — an army of friends and supporters. Some are so close that they’ve asked Weems to keep their ashes on hand after they die. (It’s a request she’s honored for a few people already.)
“I think I have had one of the most wonderfully enchanting lives. If it ended now, it would be OK. It’s been a great run. It really has. Even when I had the heart attack,” says the 66-year-old Weems. “But then I go, ‘I don’t want (it to end.)’ I want to keep going. I have my grandson, my
children, the gallery. Who would take this gallery? Good God. Who would do this? Who’s going to handle all those artists out here. Give me a break!”
Q: Describe yourself as a teenager.
A: Very orderly, (followed) the rules, very good student, scared to death of my parents, had a great deal of respect for my teachers, had a lot of fun. Carlsbad was wonderful. Oh, I waterskied every day! I was quite a water-skier. That was my passion, but I was a good student.
Q: What was your first job?
A: I taught ukulele lessons in my neighborhood to kids. I was already a little entrepreneur. I also gave art lessons. … It’s true, and I still have a ukulele. (Breaking out into song) “Be sure it’s true ...”
Q: Did you work before you had children?
A: I was a secretary. I was a substitute teacher that they always asked not to come back. (laughs) I’m serious! That’s true! Because my classes were rather wild and fun. Look: In my home, let’s put it this way, we took a room, (my children) got to draw on all the walls, and I drew on all the walls and that’s how I raised my children, so you can imagine my classroom. … I was a real-estate agent (too). Hated it. I just couldn’t do that.
Q: What’s been the key to this gallery’s longevity?
A: Never giving up. And an incredible group of — and I’m going to say it — women. Supporters, allies, friends who have stayed behind me, with me, in front of me, pushing forward. There’s no way you can do it without that alliance. It’s too lonely and you can’t. You can’t do it.
Q: Have there been times you almost gave up?
A: I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think so. (Laughs). I know it sounds like I should. I should have. Maybe. I did (go and sit) in a class at law school because my father kept saying, “You got this divorce, this gallery is so hard. Go become a lawyer and come back to Carlsbad and take over my practice.” He had a very good practice. So I sat in on a law class. Well, guess what? I’m sitting here (at the gallery) aren’t I?
Q: How do you determine what kind of art will sell?
A: Instinct. In this day and age, you better be very, very good and very different and in my world, you get a lot. You have to be fair-priced. You really do. It’s a very unusual world where extremely expensive art sells. In this area — even in Santa Fe. A lot of galleries have gone under all over the country during this particular whatever they want to call it — financial meltdown, that’s what I call
it.
Q: You went 30 years without doing any art on your own, but you’ve been painting more recently, right?
A: I had my first show ever — ever! I mean, I never had a show in the gallery ever. I had my first show and guess what happened? I sold 52 paintings. But it was perfect, because I couldn’t be on the floor as much anymore (since the heart attack) so when I’m back there, I’m happy. I’m relaxed.
Q: What is your biggest regret?
A: (That I) didn’t get a doctorate and get to teach at the university level. I always thought that would be fun. You know why? In college they may teach you how to be an artist, (but) they don’t teach you how to be a professional, working artist. They’re avant-garde, they’re pie in the sky, castles in the air. I’d love to teach almost an economic course in being an artist, reality check.
Q: What is one food you can’t live without?
A: Chicken. Everybody knows it. That is a real oddity about me; I eat the same thing every single day. Every day. And I’m content. Chicken! And I feel really badly. I eat it roasted and I share it with (dogs) Oscar and Meyer, and that’s it. I feel horrible for the chickens. I wish I could move them over to eggs. I sort of am a little of a vegetarian — sort of, kind of — except I hate vegetables, so it doesn’t work.
Q: Do you roast the chicken yourself?
A: Do you want to know a hilarious story? First of all, the appliances in my kitchen are 30 years old. We do have Christmas morning at my house, and I do eggs. I do, I really do. I have a frying pan. (One Christmas morning my daughter) goes to preheat the oven for the rolls and all the sudden we’re (sniffing). What’s in there? I forgot to tell them that my yogurt bars in their boxes were in the oven. That’s where I store them because I barely use the oven. So they’re on fire. On Christmas morning, they’re on fire. You had to be there to understand it. That’s a story! So that’s how much I use the kitchen. … I think that answers (the roasting chicken question.)
Q: Do you have any hidden talents?
A: I actually can fix things around my house. Not great, but I’m not afraid to try. I’ll fix my toilet. I have a wrench, I have lots of tools. I love my drill.
Q: How would you describe yourself in three words?
A: Optimistic, generous and, I hope, loving.