After decades climbing the ladder as a gallery-less painter, Ann Erpino can finally exhale. Finding success in an unexpected niche—as the go-to artist for Cal Tech scientists who want the concepts of their DNA processing research and explorations of conscious translated into paintings—she wonders if the gallery model she’s actively avoided isn’t obsolete.
Bruce Dean, on the other hand, burst out of art school two years before Ann in 1974, spent the early years of his career “coddled” by galleries, like the Karl Bornstein Gallery. His recent show of modern/abstract paintings at LACMA’s rental gallery drew a crowd from his video game work, illustration work, and, of course, his connections from his gallery days. But he’s trying to figure out if going with galleries is the best way to go.
Back in the day, “I just made art,” he says. “They did the publicity; they found the buyers. It was a false world I understood.” After leaving the gallery scene (family, kids, and other segues) for a while, Bruce is back. “My first instinct was to find a new gallery to show in, but that scene’s not as vibrant or big,” he observes. Having felt the maternal comfort of gallery life, having representation doesn’t have the negative associations it does for Ann.
“I never had the expectation of being coddled by a gallery,” Ann says. “Part of that is trust. I’ve heard so many people having bad experiences.”
Her organic approach to getting her work out there has landed her commissions and a loyal, intimate following of patrons who want to see her keep painting. “Ann has relationships with her collectors that I never had,” comments Bruce. Her pointed choice to live in the “world’s largest” artist’s community, so she would by default have foot traffic during the Brewery’s art walks, has built her audience by creating friendships, not schmoozing.
Also, after trouble with color plates, printers cropping the signature, and other mishaps, Ann wanted control over her own print production. She started making her own prints (a convenience not readily available in the first decades of her career) and deciding for herself what a “print run” is. “Most people are not collectors; they just like the image. Now I can do prints in any kind of material, at any size,” Ann says. She gives people who fall in love with her images a chance to carry on that affair in the size, shape, and price they need, broadening her market and keeping 100 percent of the profits.
Ann says people gravitate to her work mainly because of the image…not hype or marketing. It can be assumed that the Folk Tree Gallery in Pasadena, Calif., invited her to put three paintings in their upcoming Dia de los Muertos show because they came across her images online, by word of mouth, or at an art walk, which suits her personality.
“I would rather be destitute and painting than have a job,” says the conceptual painter who has been described by fellow Brewery residents as the “most tenacious artist” and “terminally unemployable.” “I got my BA in painting in 1976 from [UC] Berkeley. I was homeless for a lot of years because I had to keep painting. I’ve always had a diverse body of work, which has made me an outsider.”
Bruce admires Ann’s path, but he’s not sure that disposing of a gallery representation is “The Way.” Just as before, respected galleries have their function: a mailing list with strings tied to purses filled with gold, exposure, “free” marketing money, etc.
In all, there is no doubt that when there is the opportunity to have an endless image gallery online, have control over the reproduction of images, and build a following through social marketing (in person and online), an artist should work it. When you generate your own following, dollar hounds soon come a-sniffin’. But, like the music industry, “getting signed” is just one way and one part of making it.
In the end, the two artists agree: Their bottom line is the eternal bottom line. As Bruce puts it, “Beyond climbing the ladder, we all just want to do work and have people see it.”
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