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'Art' and US$12 million stuffed shark
By Ni Tao |
November 14, 2009, Saturday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
FOR anyone planning to invest in the art market, it's important to bear in mind that the modern art world is a fickle place fraught with traps.
Before venturing into uncharted waters, those who gauge the trends and make decisions based solely on prices would do well to consider the economic principle that an object's price can deviate wildly from its value.
That's where Don Thompson's "The $12 Million Stuffed Shark" comes in as a handy primer on the inner workings of the secrecy-shrouded art market.
Beginning with the tale of how British sculptor Damien Hirst's stuffed shark carcass preserved in formaldehyde sold for US$12 million, Thompson takes readers on an enlightening journey to unravel the myths that can make the contemporary art market a tenderloin - the juiciest cut for treachery.
At work in a complex money-making chain are a handful of players who share a common interest in seeing pieces of art work command prices way above their intrinsic value. Dealers are constantly on the lookout for aspiring artists. They frequent art fairs to scout talented people, lure them into sponsorships and brand them to become the new darlings of the art trade.
While we have become accustomed to reports of established artists making millions, the real picture in the art world is a rag-to-riches story.
Artists toil in obscurity for many years before being spotted (if ever), publicized and having their works shown in prestigious galleries.
As Thompson writes, "You are nobody in contemporary art until you have been branded."
As in other fields, good publicity and a stroke of luck can be a shortcut to money and fame. Once an artist is branded, chances are that whatever he or she creates will be accepted as legitimate. Apart from dealers, auctioneers also are plying a lucrative trade. Take Christie's and Sotheby's, two juggernauts among them.
As the author argues, both auction houses devote plentiful resources to cultivating close relationships with their VIP bidders. Not only do they print glossy catalogues to impress their high-end collectors, they also offer advice on the merits and future value of works with which customers are not familiar.
They go much further. To secure high-value collections, auction houses go to great lengths, even rolling the dice and laying profit on the line for a coveted consignment.
In one gamble that failed miserably, Christie's acquisition of a collector's sumptuous collection of Impressionist paintings paid for his luxury condo in New York - but it was later auctioned at a huge loss.
No doubt, all these machinations affect the jaw-dropping price tags attached to otherwise ordinary, or just bizarre, works.
Meanwhile, a work's inherent value is overlooked in the heated bidding process. As Thompson puts it, "The value of one work of art compared to another is in no way related to the time or skill that went into producing it."
Driven by vanity and self-aggrandizement, collectors in the upper echelons of the art world blindly and frantically bid up an item for the contentment stemming not from appreciating it but from simply owning it.
Crowds lured to art exhibitions by hype are no better, craning their necks for a better view of something they otherwise wouldn't call art.
The global economic tsunami has left a trail of carcasses in its wake, the art world being one of them. Admittedly, it was with hints of Schadenfreude that we watched the bursting of bubbles. Unfortunately, they are likely to inflate again as the downturn ends and our painful memories fade.
Before venturing into uncharted waters, those who gauge the trends and make decisions based solely on prices would do well to consider the economic principle that an object's price can deviate wildly from its value.
That's where Don Thompson's "The $12 Million Stuffed Shark" comes in as a handy primer on the inner workings of the secrecy-shrouded art market.
Beginning with the tale of how British sculptor Damien Hirst's stuffed shark carcass preserved in formaldehyde sold for US$12 million, Thompson takes readers on an enlightening journey to unravel the myths that can make the contemporary art market a tenderloin - the juiciest cut for treachery.
At work in a complex money-making chain are a handful of players who share a common interest in seeing pieces of art work command prices way above their intrinsic value. Dealers are constantly on the lookout for aspiring artists. They frequent art fairs to scout talented people, lure them into sponsorships and brand them to become the new darlings of the art trade.
While we have become accustomed to reports of established artists making millions, the real picture in the art world is a rag-to-riches story.
Artists toil in obscurity for many years before being spotted (if ever), publicized and having their works shown in prestigious galleries.
As Thompson writes, "You are nobody in contemporary art until you have been branded."
As in other fields, good publicity and a stroke of luck can be a shortcut to money and fame. Once an artist is branded, chances are that whatever he or she creates will be accepted as legitimate. Apart from dealers, auctioneers also are plying a lucrative trade. Take Christie's and Sotheby's, two juggernauts among them.
As the author argues, both auction houses devote plentiful resources to cultivating close relationships with their VIP bidders. Not only do they print glossy catalogues to impress their high-end collectors, they also offer advice on the merits and future value of works with which customers are not familiar.
They go much further. To secure high-value collections, auction houses go to great lengths, even rolling the dice and laying profit on the line for a coveted consignment.
In one gamble that failed miserably, Christie's acquisition of a collector's sumptuous collection of Impressionist paintings paid for his luxury condo in New York - but it was later auctioned at a huge loss.
No doubt, all these machinations affect the jaw-dropping price tags attached to otherwise ordinary, or just bizarre, works.
Meanwhile, a work's inherent value is overlooked in the heated bidding process. As Thompson puts it, "The value of one work of art compared to another is in no way related to the time or skill that went into producing it."
Driven by vanity and self-aggrandizement, collectors in the upper echelons of the art world blindly and frantically bid up an item for the contentment stemming not from appreciating it but from simply owning it.
Crowds lured to art exhibitions by hype are no better, craning their necks for a better view of something they otherwise wouldn't call art.
The global economic tsunami has left a trail of carcasses in its wake, the art world being one of them. Admittedly, it was with hints of Schadenfreude that we watched the bursting of bubbles. Unfortunately, they are likely to inflate again as the downturn ends and our painful memories fade.
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