Bye Bye Blackboard

(Above) Albert Einstein
Physicist
Einstein’s blackboard was used in a lecture in Oxford on May 16, 1931.

At that time Einstein’s theories of relativity were being combined with astronomical data to explain the shifts towards the red in the spectra of distant galaxies, which indicated that the universe was expanding. In his lecture Einstein outlined a fairly simple model to explain this apparent expansion. In the first line on the blackboard, D, the measure of expansion in the universe, is defined in terms of the expansion factor P. The expression for the density of matter in the universe, given by Ú in the third line, is derived from the field equations. The last four lines contain numerical data, giving values for density, radius and age of the universe, where ‘L. J’ stands for ‘Licht Jahr’ (light year) and ‘J’ for ‘Jahr’ (year). According to the last line, the age of the universe is about 10, or perhaps 100 billion years (the bracket indicates an alternative figure, not a product of two figures).

Einstein’s blackboard deals with some of the most fundamental questions in cosmology.

(Above) Cornelia Parker
Artist
Navigating a Cliff Edge in Darkness 2005
‘Written while blindfolded, using cliff chalk from Beachy Head, Sussex’

(Above) The Right Reverend Richard Harries
Bishop of Oxford

‘I had the privilege of chairing the House of Lords Select Committee on Stem Cell Research. Most of us were non-scientists, but with the aid of a very good scientific adviser we did I think grasp some of the fundamental principles involved. Cloning was one issue we had to discuss and both then and subsequently I have found these little drawings helpful both for myself and others to whom I am talking.’

(Above) Joanna MacGregor
Pianist

‘I wrote the music on this blackboard while I was giving a lecture about Bach’s Goldberg Variations at the Holywell Music Room on 22nd March this year, before performing them. I was trying to make a connection between Bach’s super-sensitivity to the contemporary styles around him – very very acute in this piece – and today’s musicians. There’s a lot of information in the Goldberg’s – structure, harmony, a ladder of canons – and coded information we can only guess at – myths, cosmological allegories, and a soulful journey. It all starts with the bass line.’

(Above) Sir Nicholas Grimshaw
President of the Royal Academy
‘Tension & Compression’

BLACKBOARDS ARE WIPED AFTER USE: they are meant for immediate communication, not for permanence. Even when are being used, their messages are continuously revised, erased and renewed. But when Einstein came to Oxford in 1931, he was already an international celebrity. After one of his lectures, a blackboard was preserved and has become a kind of relic. It is the most famous object in the Museum.

The exhibition in 2005 marked the centenary of the Special Theory of Relativity by inviting a number of well-known people in Britain to chalk on blackboards the same size as Einstein’s. All of the guest blackboards were prepared in the early months of 2005. The result was an exhibition about science, art, celebrity and nostalgia. The blackboard is fast disappearing from meetings, classes and lectures, hence the exhibition title: ‘Bye-Bye Blackboard’.

The exhibition was on display in the Special Exhibitions Gallery at the Museum of the History of Science, Oxford from April 16 to September 18, 2005.

I gained knowledge of this wonderful exhibition through Eric Baker’s posting of images January 26, 2009 through the Design Observer. The copy above is from that posting, © Museum of the History of Science, Oxford.

Would Anyone Like a Spot of Tea?

(Above) Lichtenstein Teapot/Tension, side 1: 8 x 10.5 x 2 inches, knotted wax linen, stainless steel: Courtesy Jane Saur Gallery
(Above) Warhol Teapot/American Beauties, side 2: 9.5 x 9.5 inches, knotted wax linen, stainless steel: Private Collection
(Above) Jim Dine Teapot/side 2: 8.5 x 9.5 x 2 inches, knotted wax linen, stainless steel: Traveling exhibition: Contemporary Baskets from the Sarah and David Lieberman Collection
(Above) Robert Indiana Teapot/side 1: 8.5 x 9 x 2 inches, knotted wax linen, stainless steel
(Above) Lichtenstein Teapot/side 1: 8.5 x 9.5 x 1.75 inches, knotted wax linen, stainless steel: Private Collection

I HAVE KNOWN KATE ANDERSON FOR NEARLY 25 YEARS: An accomplished painter, for the last 10 years she has been spending her days knotting with waxed linen, blending an archetypal art form (the teapot) with appropriated images from what is commonly considered to be “high art.” They are gorgeous, handcrafted objects.

This is Kate’s statement from her Web site:

“Making sculptural art forms by utilizing the repetitive basketry technique called knotting forms the basis of my work regarding content and the blurred edges where art and craft meet. High-art/low-art references come into play by utilizing the teapot, a common craft object, as my sculptural archetype juxtaposed with images appropriated from the world of “high art.” Quotation, allusion, abstraction, and art/craft references all play a part as the knotting process simultaneously creates both structure and image.”

Brontosaurus For Sale: Pickup Only

JUST SPOTTED THIS BRONTOSAURUS for sale on eBay, measuring 56 feet long, 20 feet tall and about 10 feet wide, with the asking price just $29,500. (offer ’em $22K cash--they’ll unload it!) This baby weighs in at a mere 3,700 lbs.—a fraction of the tonnage compared to the real thing.

You know you are thinking about it, so go ahead and surprise the kids! Freak out your neighbors and have your local zoning commission pouring through their books trying to find a law against a dinosaur. If you run into any snags, just call it art, and they won’t know what to do.

Actually, these folks will ship it to you for $6,500, but this isn’t the Wall Street Journal. I’ll say anything for a good headline.

Use keywords: “brontosaurus life-size” on eBay search.

The Beauty of Multiples

(Above) 10 pig cutting boards of various shapes, sizes and woods.
(Above) 10 wire and wood hangers from 1890 to 1930.
(Above) A lovely, sublime collection of shovel handles of various ages.
(Above) A collection of wire frames from catcher’s masks, 1890 to 1940.
(Above) 18 lithographed toy ray guns, 1920s to 1950s
(Above) A collection of gradated industrial calipers, arranged two different ways.
(Above) 8 pairs of antique turned croquet posts dating from the late 1880’s to 1940’s.

HOW MANY TIMES IN MY LIFE have I been drawn to the power and beauty of multiples? Too many times—with too few display areas, that’s how many. I have always looked at it this way. If one is wonderful, then two is better and three is awesome so four must be fantastic and five is....well, you get the picture. Only with multiples can you begin to see and appreciate the differences, the similarities and the sublime changes in design.

Years ago, I got addicted to the iconic pig cutting board. I know, I know. Alone, with just one, I was looking at something rather plain and everyday. At flea markets I would see one, then another and I’d see them often— but never many at once. So, I got to thinking—surely there wasn’t just one stencil that every kid in every 8th grade shop class in every school in America used? So, I bought one—then another, then another—always looking for unique and different ones—until I had... so many that my wife thought I was nuts. With no great massive wall space to view them in—and several hundred dollars later, I laid them on the kitchen floor and just marveled at what I had done.

They were great: some pigs had short snouts, some had painted edges, some had drilled holes for eyes, some had painted ets, some had rivets; some had short feet, other had long feet, tails and no tails; ears, no ears, short ears; fat pigs, skinny pigs, long weiner-like pigs... I LOVED IT!

There is a great on-line store I have to tell you about. It’s called: www.lostfoundart.com and these people were cut out of my own DNA, I believe. All of the above things, including the piggies, are from their site. It’s great and you should go there.

What do you collect?

When Worlds Collide

A traditional piece of Mexican pottery from the 1930’s - 40’s, where Mickey Mouse crashed the party.
A 1930s boy’s Japanese Kimono with prints of Mickey Mouse.

THE INFLUENCE OF AMERICAN POPULAR CULTURE around the world has always been pervasive, but I was surprised to find this traditional 1930s boy’s Japanese Kimono decorated with prints of Walt Disney’s Mickey Mouse. This item is available at: Miyamoto Antiques in Sag Harbor NY. Phone: 631-725-1533—E-Mail: noriko@miyamotoantiques.com

Secondly, here is a Mexican plate, also from the 1930s-40s, decorated with… our little American friend. It is on the website of James Caswell: James Caswell Historia.

The Way Back Machine… in Color

(Above) An impressive 5 x 7 inch autochrome, circa 1905, from the gallery of Alex Novak and Marthe Smith. Learn more at 212.822.5662 or visit their website at www.vintageworks.net. Click for larger view. 

So, you thought the year 1905 was black and white, did you? :-)

Be sure and click on images for a larger view.

All of these photos were made in Belgium around 1900 to 1910!


IF YOU COULD SEE BACK 110 YEARS, just for a moment—the people and their dress, a city street or country path in real color, that would be pretty amazing, wouldn’t it?

Just a few years ago, color photos and movie film of World War II was made available for the first time that documented various aspects of the war. Even during 1940-45, color film was quite rare. The few color photos that I have seen reproduced of soldiers and the war (rather than in B&W) brings the distant past a lot closer. Of course, it wasn’t until the 1950’s that color was finally introduced to the world—and even then, it had its limitations.

But did you know that color images were being made at the turn of the 20th century? The process was called the autochrome, and it was a complicated process using, of all things... potatoes. If it wasn’t an autochrome, any color images you might find from that period or before were hand-colored tintypes, Daguerreotypes, and other monochromatic processes. Here, for the first time, was a process that could truly capture the ambient color of the day. It looked a lot like a glass slide, and was about 4 x 5 inches (and larger) in size.

The autochrome 1907-1932

The autochrome process was invented during the years 1895-1903, by the French brothers Louis Lumière (1864-1947 and Auguste Lumière (1862-1954). It took them four further years to work out and refine the several fabrication processes. Finally in 1907 the autochrome plates came on the market and were an instant success. Until now, the photographers’ only way to produce color was tinting the plates by hand which was done by many photographers with breathtaking artistry.

Here’s part of what it took to make an autochrome plate

The nucleus of autochrome glass plates are dyed grains of potato starch measuring between 0.006—0.025mm.

1. Make three heaps of starch, dye each pile in respectively violet, green and orange.
2. Make a mix of these three different colored grain starches.
3. You need a glass plate between 0.9 and 1.8mm thick.
4. First you have to varnish the plate with a latex based varnish.
5. Blow the colored mix of grains on the varnished plate.
6. Gently brush the plate to remove the surplus grains.
7. Next, a fine layer of charcoal is applied to fill the interstices between the grains.
8. The whole plate then has to be pressed to reduce overall thickness of layers.
9. After pressing, apply a second layer of varnish.
10. To finish off, place a panchromatic emulsion layer.
    

This is briefly the production process of an autochrome plate, but imagine for all the different production stages industrial machines had to be invented to produce plates on a grand scale.

Some interesting facts

• There are between 6,000 to 7,000 grains on a square millimeter.
• A rolling pressure of 5000 kg per square centimeter had to be achieved to press the layers without breaking the fragile glass plate.
• Around 1914 the daily production was 6,000 autochrome plates.
• It is estimated that between 1907 and 1932 around 20 million plates were sold.
• The biggest collection of autochromes (72,000 plates) is housed at the Albert Kahn Museum at Boulogne Billancourt, France.

Learn more at: Autochromes.
Copyright 2003 - 2004 - 2005 - 2006 - 2007 - 2008 Thomas Weynants (Pipistrello)
Media_Museum Version (6) 01 / 01 / 2008 - All rights reserved by SOFAM

5 QUESTIONS: Harris Diamant

THIS IS THE FIRST OF A SERIES, a series of artist interviews with only 5 questions. I first discovered the work of Harris Diamant, a NYC-based artist, sculptor, collector and sometimes art dealer two or three years ago. I admired it for it’s mystery, most of all. After all, shouldn’t art be about wonder? The consummate craftsman, these objects are exquisitely made by Mr. Diamant out of an amazing array of materials—stuff like brass, steel, aluminum, Bakelite, wood, gold leaf, silver leaf, aluminum leaf, brass leaf, acrylic paint, flopaque paint, aniline dyes and lacquer. The list of materials alone remind me of an alchemist’s laboratory. If I were to stumble upon it outside of a gallery it would remind me of some ancient technology that I am too dumb to understand—just marvel at. There’s something magical behind this work, so I decided to contact the artist.
1 ) Hello Harris, thanks for taking part in the first of an artist series called FIVE QUESTIONS. For those people who might not be familiar with your work, your signature pieces are these mechanized, almost futuristic robotic versions of a human head being enclosed in a glass dome. Immediately, what I want to do is connect dots to a number of references here, things like the dehumanization of man to futuristic technology. Have I touched on at least some things you deal with as an artist?

A) Not really John. It’s pretty simple to me. The main thing I deal with as an artist is making more art. The primary thing there is showing up and forcing myself to work. Even if the trout are rising. My studio has no distractions, very little comfort (I do have a radio or music), not even a real comfortable chair. I truly do not deal with content. No actual ideas. If I had to deal with content I wouldn't know what to do. Concretized. I just make the next one. I watch my finger tips, sometimes very closely (I often work with binocular magnifiers, they bring me into a world that only exists there—I like it there) and they bring me to new places, places where I live until a new place is revealed. There are certainly things that I like and I do have a pretty keen critical sense and a wicked super-ego. I suppose the things that I like have seeped in. I like American folk art and I especially like classical antiquities. Ancient Egypt is my favorite. If I need to describe an influence it would be ancient Egypt. Why not start at the top. I like the notion of eternity existing in beauty. I think those guys got it right. Their stuff hits close to the bone. Too beautiful (anyone can see that), too mysterious, too opulent and too desirable to trash. You never find Egypt at Brimfield (a recurring nightmare is my stuff turning up on those fields). The glass domes? Primarily a means for keeping the art the way I like it to look without a need for maintenance. The work is complicated and hard to clean. Of course I do like the “cabinet of wonders” aesthetic and the Victorian aesthetic. I put most of my work on turntables so that the viewer can fully scrutinize the object from a single point of view.

2) You know Harris, it really is so very refreshing to hear an artist say what you just said. My years in art have made me think that there has to be some lofty connection to something in order to make art. I love that you answered my question the way you did. It was honest. To say that you “truly do not deal with content” is one of the most direct and honest things I have heard an artist say in years. The simple fact is—you make these incredible objects and we can make what we want from them, right? So, do you fabricate these incredible things yourself? The craftsmanship is really remarkable.

A) I do make these things completely by myself. The idea of collaboration is anathema to me. I want the work to be me, me me. I have great respect for craftsmanship. I can endure endless repetition. I’m magically exempt from boredom. I have nothing worthwhile to do but make art. That’s the way I constructed it some 25 or 30 years ago when I started down this path. My notion was that if it wasn’t everything, it’s nothing.

3) Eyes and eye glasses appear to be very important to you. Tell me more about that.

A) I’m attracted to eyes (window to the soul and all), I think everyone is. They’re potent and revealing and expressive. I’ve worn specs since I failed my first eye test as a wee child. I like the notion that everything I make is a self-portrait but that isn’t what motivates me to use eyes and specs. Not to be cute, it’s just an inclination.
4) Tell me about your studio, your home. You like folk art, you are drawn to things from antiquity. And, the“cabinet of wonders” idea makes me feel your studio and home must be filled with wonderful curiosities.

A) I’ve been a dealer in American folk art for more than 40 years. I don’t deal at a lofty level. Everything I buy is a discovery. I love making the judgement concerning whether an object is worthy of being called art. I love the alchemy of turning mere base stuff into art. I love to photograph art. I love basing art, presenting art. Dealing for such a long time has given me the opportunity to have countless great pieces, even a few masterpieces, pass through my hands. I have the wonderful opportunity to own material that’s way beyond my pocket book for short periods of time. I don’t keep very much, I’m a dealer. In spite of this my home is filled with folk art. I hope it doesn’t make me too much of a Philistine, but I can put a price on anything that I buy. It’s really making the judgement rather than owning the object that rings my chimes. Photography gives me an opportunity to scrutinize an object, to have it the center of my focus in a manner and for a duration that’s simply not available to me in any other way. It also allows me to articulate what I see in an object without the need for words. Base making allows me to make the lame walk, the wilted to stand erect, give grace to the awkward. I find ideas and inspiration in old, unacknowledged objects. It’s exciting.

I know that I stated earlier that I shun collaboration. Using found objects is the one collaboration that I’m at ease with, although my rule is to never use objects that, in my estimation, stand with significance on their own. Folk Art gives me the wherewithal financially to make my art. Yes, even though I’m an old codger, I still pay to play. Folk art is my ally, my supporter, my mentor. It’s a endless font. Did I mention, it gives me great pleasure to be surrounded by it? In the past, my dealing has given me an opportunity to develop some expertise in antique technology, (scientific instruments and especially model steam engines were early areas of dealing for me), antique toys, bronzes, antique jewelry (Art Nouveau was a speciality in the 1960s), advertising—on and on. These early encounters, always hands-on, gave me an opportunity to teach myself the many technologies that allow me to accomplish my work as an artist.

I’ve, much to my regret, never been fortunate enough to own an actual piece of Classical Antiquity, never a piece of Egyptian Art. I’ve acquired antiquities by osmosis, by staring at this art at the Metropolitan Museum.
5) My final question Harris, is this: you have told me what inspires you, now, can you tell me who inspires you? Is there a person, living or dead, that you wish you had a chance to spend a day with?

A long time ago, I went to a show of the work of David Smith that was held at the Smithsonian in D.C. I believe it was at the Hirschorn. The show was a re-creation of the Coliseum at the Spoletto Festival where in 1962, Smith was invited to build and display sculptures. He was given a huge, ancient foundry as a studio (it was filled with the detritus of iron casting—huge cauldrons, great sheets of steel, iron wheels.....), with as much assistance as he needed, as much budget as he needed and thirty days to finish his work. In thirty days, Smith completed 27 sculptures. Everyone was surprised, amazed. He was aflame and I could feel his inspiration. I spent the entire day in that room, taking it all in by osmosis and sneaking (you were not allowed to take pictures) countless, blindly taken photographs. I was so deeply in the thrall of this work that it seemed to me I could do it. Not make work that looked like Smith’s, but that if I could get as deeply into it as Smith, into the making part, the work would come. I took that message home with me and I started down the path that allowed me to admit that I wanted to define myself as an artist and could do that by making art.

It worked for me. I’ve been making art for a long time (actually since that show in D.C.). I have a sizable body of work. I love doing what I do. I’d like to buy David Smith a drink, maybe two, or three….

---------------

More of Harris Diamant’s work can be seen at Obsolete or on his personal web site: www.harrisdiamant.com.

A Crooked Little House

I PASS THIS HOUSE every few weeks or so in St. Louis. So, one day last week, I stopped and walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. No one answered. So, I took a couple of pictures to share with you. I think the house is Art Deco style, but it is really plain and boxy. I am torn as to whether this is sorta cool, or a real affront to an original example of Deco-style architecture. It sure catches one’s attention.

I remember this house as far back as the late 1970s, and to my memory, it did not have the tilted addition. This “add-on” was built, to my memory, in the 1980’s. It’s too bad no one was at home, because I wanted more information and really wanted to see inside. If I get more information, I’ll report back.

The Critical Analysis of a Snapshot

(click on images for a larger view)
WHAT MAKES A GREAT SNAPSHOT? As a general rule, many of the same things that one might use to judge any artwork fall into play. Connoisseurship in any field has its criteria. My good friend Brian loves great automobiles. If I were to ask him what makes a great automobile, I would guess him to say craftsmanship, performance, design, quality—those kind of things. Notice I didn’t say anything about cost. If I had asked him “what are the qualities of the most expensive cars in the world?” that is a different question altogether. Then, he might say something like rarity, being first. To that point, an 1898 one-off prototype of a steam-powered car (ugly, by many standards) might trump the very first Mercedes, for example. But then again, maybe not. But I have opened a can of worms here—in a field I know little about. I do know that the art—the design— of an automobile can give it immortality. Raymond Loewy’s Avanti, for example, still turns heads today if you would be fortunate enough to see one.

In the world of snapshots, or “vernacular photography” as they call it today, we have to understand the difference between the work of a trained photographer and that of an everyday snapshot shooter. We’ll call the everyday snapshot guy “Uncle Charlie.”

Uncle Charlie, who has his Brownie camera with him one day to get a few shots of his friend’s retirement party, is leaving work when sees a blimp flying overhead and remembers he still has a picture left. He thinks the sighting of a blimp unusual enough to want to record it. He tried to get directly under it but it is moving too fast. Charlie thinks: “Damn that building! If only I had a better shot! Oh, what the hell!”   *Click!* When the pictures come back from the drugstore, he is probably bothered a bit by all the intrusions that came with the picture, like the pole, wire, the two buildings—but, he thinks, at least I got my picture. Mission accomplished.

Now, if the great modernist photographer Lee Friedlander happened to have been there on the same day, the last thing he would have wanted was a single shot of the belly of the blimp. Chances are he would have run to the alley and tried to get a shot similar to the one that Uncle Charlie took, which was basically by accident and default. Friedlander would have reveled in the juxtapositions of the blimp to the wire and the buildings to the blimp and seized upon that very moment. Could he have taken a better picture of that blimp on that day? Probably. But Uncle Charlie stumbled onto this great photo—in spite of himself. It is doubtful that this anonymous snapshot shooter allowed his mind to make the critical analysis that a trained photographer might have done.

So, what about that criteria? What do I look for in a great snapshot? Well, the great snapshots are absolutely rare. You have to figure that 99% of the time there is no negative, so this is all you will ever have of this particular view. What you are holding in your hand is the only existing image of this particular shot. For example, there are millions of pictures of men in hats. But only ONE like the one you see above. That makes it a one-of-a-kind. Add to that the qualities I list for you below—and you have a great photo. 

When I look at a snapshot I look for the following things: (1) composition: simply, does it work as a picture? (2) tonality: does it have a full-range of values, from white to gray to black? Or, does it break this rule for something more dramatic or sublime? (3) content: what is it a picture of? Is the image unusual, with uncommon subject matter? Does it challenge me visually? Is there a surprise, something unexpected? Do I continue to see more the longer I look? (4) condition: Is the photo is good shape? Is it bent, wrinkled or damaged? Or, is it pristine? 

(5) My last criteria, and this is personal to my collecting eye: does the snapshot remind me of something a great photographer might have taken? Is it a little Diane Arbus? Is it an “accidental” WeeGee, Friedlander, Siskind, Steiglitz, Strand or other?

I’ll be showcasing some other snapshots from time-to-time. Thanks and stay tuned.

More Photos, 2009 Outsider Art Fair in NYC

(Above) A very creepy Haitian voodou doll at Galerie Bourbon-Lally.
(Above) Late 19th century memory piece, serving as a frame for tintype, at Carl Hammer Gallery.
(Above) A Morton Bartlett doll on display at Marion Harris Gallery.
(Above) Speakers assemble for a photograph after the American Folk Art Museum Uncommon Artists XVII Talks: left to right: Maria Ann Conelli, Executive Director, AFAM; Susan Mitchell Crawley, Curator of Folk Art, High Museum of Art; Michael Noland, painter and art collector; Jeff Way, artist and educator; Ned Pucher, Ph.D. candidate; Gary Snyder, art dealer; Lee Kogan, AFAM.
(Above) No one could be more deserving of the 2nd Annual American Folk Art Museum’s VISIONARY AWARD honoree than RAW Vision founder and editor John Maizels. The event took place Friday night, January 9, 2009.

Left to right: Samuel Farber, AFAM Trustee; Jenifer P. Borum, adjunct faculty member, NYU; Honoree John Maizels; Rebecca A. Hoffberger, Director and founder, American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore, MD; Maria Ann Conelli, Executive Director, American Folk Art Museum; Audrey Heckler, Cochair, The Contemporary Center Steering Committee; Robert Roth, RAW Vision Board of Directors and supporter.

2009 Outsider Art Fair

(Above) This “Caballero” by Martin Ramirez sold for a price tag in the range of $250,000.
(Above) A fabulous work by Ramirez, a train heading into a tunnel.
(Above) Martin Ramirez, another exceptional train and tunnel drawing.
(Above) Nice to see this great piece by Edgar Tolson at Carl Hammer Gallery, Chicago.
(Above) A rare monumental “Angel” by Raymond Coins, at American Primitive Gallery, NYC. This was an incredible piece, priced at $8,000.

I report without hesitation that the new venue for the 17th Annual Outsider Fair was a huge step forward for Sanford Smith. The booths were spacious, professional looking and well lit, and it just seemed that the work looked better over all. I do not think I spoke to a single person who missed the Puck Building venue—except for the Soho environs, which is just so much more fun than the current location at 5th Ave. and 34th (across the street from the Empire State Building). The one thing that was the same as past years were the grumpy security people and ticket-takers...

The star artist of the fair was, to my thinking, Martin Ramirez, whose newly discovered cache of work was also on display at The American Folk Art Museum. Additionally, there was an extraordinary amount of work for sale by Bill Traylor. Why? One dealer agreed that in our poor economy, past owners of the works are now looking to sell and are consigning them to various dealers.

Art dealers seemed to be quite happy with the event—and while there is never a report overall sales, it did appear that the market for this work is doing OK. Certainly, there are buys to be had because of the economy. In a nutshell, the great art continues to hold their prices or see increases. I saw lots of people—big crowds. One dealer told me that it took two days to break even—and she was counting on the final day (Sunday) to show a profit.