What is Affordable Art?

Guest blogger Mckenna Hallett shares an incredible story of selling fine art to a customer who thought it was out of her reach. It goes to prove that you cannot be the judge of what is “affordable.”

When I walked into work that day and saw this immensely beautiful Miro diptych on the main wall of the gallery, my heart started racing. I was frozen in place. This was a sugar-lift aquatint from that early and hard-to-find period of very clean lines and few colors. These were also large pieces, each about 2 feet wide by about 3 feet tall making the presentation 3 feet by more than 4 feet wide.

They were so very rare and so highly sought after by Miro collectors and surrealist and contemporary collectors. Did I mention that they were gorgeous and quintessentially, perhaps arguably, Miro at his best? I was stunned and wishing I could afford them myself. Miro was always one of my most favorites. And then my collectors list began to churn in my brain. I had to get to the phones. Other consultants surely were already working their lists.

To be clear, this was a very upscale San Francisco gallery and generally not for the casual art purchaser. The pricing started in the many thousands. An 1876 original pencil sketch, by someone whose name was unpronounceable and biography was a mystery to all but the very dedicated art aficionados, might have a price of $5000. That’s 1980’s dollars.

While we had an occasional “walk-in” sale, the more serious clients were not walking around town and browsing our walls. They were in their penthouse offices in various cities around the world and rarely available for a “sales call.” I worked with a lot of executive secretaries mostly, and if I had a good rapport, they might let their boss know of an opportunity.

No emails existed. No computers on their desks. No cell phones. This was a different world. When something of great collectability became available to my collectors, I had to be quick and persuasive if I was going to get to actually talk with those busy executives and share the newest gallery acquisition with my collectors.

I sat at my desk, read the details of the Miro, learned the “provenance,” memorized the price, grabbed my list and with my hand on the phone, I began creating my script for the calls.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her walk in the door. I couldn’t remember her name, but she was a regular visitor on her lunch break and she and I shared a love for Miro. So it was no surprise that she had an identical reaction when her eyes made contact: Frozen. Stunned. Expressionless. I ran to her side, giddy and playful and excited to share the moment.

Read the Complete Article