Monday, December 19, 2011

If I Had A Lot of Money I Would Buy The Art World This…

Today was one of those days when leaving the apartment was a b-a-d idea. I put off going Christmas shopping this year until today and entering into the consumer vortex made me literally want to barf or just lay on the floor and let it all end. How people enjoy going to stores to shop is perplexing to me but like all things in life, to each their own. That being said and me being drained from staring at things vacantly with “ummmmmmm, uhhhhhhhhhh, hmmmmmmm” running through my head for the past few hours I will take off a load by imaging what I would buy for the collective art world IF I had a bunch of money.

Artists that I am friends with and I like their work – I would buy one piece by them worth up to $4,000.

Artists that I am friends with but I don’t like their work – I would buy them a round of drinks.

Artists that I don't know personally and like their work – Chocolate croissants. For life!

Artists that I don't know personally and do not like their work – A "don't worry be happy" t-shirt with yellow smiley face.

New York Times Art Critics – Very good dark chocolate on the form of a Koons' Balloon Dog and a day spa pass that includes a facial with those cucumber eye things and a mud bath.

Wall Street Journal Culture Writers – A silver hand mirror and a vibrator or plug, whatever they prefer.

All other art critics on newspaper staffs – A classic Swatch watch circa 1987

Artforum editors – One of those Russian matryoshka dolls starting with the likeness of Beuys then on to, Rauschenberg, Serra, Barney, and then finally just white wax with a single hair sprouting from the top.

Artforum critics – A pig roast party with lots of pineapple themed drinks.

Art Critics for NY Magazine – A toilet made of 24k gold that plays Bing Crosby when flushed.

All other freelance art critics in print media (excluding newspapers) – One month’s rent.

All art critics online – A sleeping bag that doubles as a floatation device that has the likeness of Bill Cosby on the front.

Dealers of blue chip galleries (racking in the millions) – A yacht. Hey, why the hell not?

Dealers of 2nd tier galleries (good rosters but not banking millions per show) – A yacht. Hey, why the hell not?

Dealers of 3rd tier galleries (okay rosters but can stay in the game) – A yacht (but its smaller). Hey, why the hell not?

Dealers of 4th tier galleries (how the hell do these places stay open for so long?) – A gift certificate to Chili’s.

Dealers of young-hip galleries (new to the scene but working damn hard) – A $3,000 shopping spree at Opening Ceremony.

Big non-profits – I’ll pay for Bill Clinton to attend your next gala.

Small non-profits – I’ll pay for Hillary Clinton to attend you next gala.

MoMA – A lemon tree, a maple tree, and a raspberry bush.

The Whitney – Lifetime supply of Murry’s bagels and cream cheese.

The Guggenheim – A koi pond.

The New Museum – A blimp.

The Met – A horse with braids in its hair.

All other museums or large private collections made public – Season tickets to the Knicks for all staff.

Artists Assistants – Fuzzy cat slippers.

Studio Assistants – Fuzzy bunny slippers.

Personal Assistants – Access to a loaded gun in a bank vault, you know, just in case…

Art Handlers – Tickets to see a Tracy Morgan comedy set.

Gallery workers – A Swedish message, the collected writings of Charles Bukowski and $500.

Curators on staff at major institutions – Hip sunglasses and a scarf.

Curators on staff at smaller institutions – A trip to China.

Independent curators – A bonsai tree and gift certificate to go to the salon.

Independent contractors (those that make things and do physical labor jobs) – A 4-day rental on Lake Placid.

Freelancers (web, design, grant writers, things like that...) – A comfy robe and espresso machine.

Guards at museums and bigger galleries – An Eames chair and $1,000.

Gift shop workers – A puppy.

Art Advisors – A tattoo of “$”anywhere on their body.

Art Fairs – A giraffe.

Art Schools – A truck load of illegal immigrants ready to work.

Art Professors (with actual PhDs and without) – A dark blazer and a packet of yummy ramen.

Collectors – Some acid.