Or: I have resisted successfully.

Graham Dolphin is one of the two artists whose work I looked at the most in Rotterdam (-> link). The reason is astonishingly simple: His work sometimes includes records.

Me being in the process of selling my record collection, art including round vinyl discs and/or their cardboard wrapping simply must attract my attention, especially if the artwork includes a Bob Dylan album in a version that is not even included in my collection.

At first sight, I can see the point of actually purchasing the work, directly exchanging 58 Bob Dylan records, representing the (almost complete musical) output of one artist, for one Bob Dylan cover, representing a tiny fraction of the work of another artist. Reading this sentence carefully, it becomes illogical. Adding to it that the “zip”-element (meaning: compression of large data into a lot smaller space) in his work does not rock my boat to a big enough extent to consider a purchase.

And hey, it does hurt to sell my records! Buying some of Dolphin’s work would mean to build a shrine for an abandoned passion! I’m not prepared for that, yet. So despite the exercised “peer pressure” to buy the work, I have to turn Graham down. For now.

The other artists I looked at a lot was Ane Mette Hol, partly because Randi and Bjorn from the gallery are such nice people. Below are two of the works.

What else did I take with me from Rotterdam?

A: A feeling that the overabundance of art input can never be enough.

B: The decision not to care about the art market. Man, I don’t care what Damien Hirst’s works sell for, unless he transfers the money to my bank account.

C: The realisation that the Dutch cheat when it comes to serving beer (see the photo) and that “themed restaurants” are still big in Rotterdam. I mean, a restaurant completely filled with teddy bears?

PS: Yes, I did see some of the people again that drove with me into Holland. They boarded the bus in Amsterdam with paralysed facial muscles. You know the deal. And the bus drivers, who I thought to be efficient, turned out to be unfriendly bastards, shouting at passengers who could hardly walk: “Hurry! We have to leave!” The only way to get a friendly word from them was to be Russian. Which of course neither me nor the woman with the weak legs were.

PPS: Hi to all the nice fellow collectors I had the pleasure of meeting in Rotterdam, you know who you are!

Or: Small and sweet and Rotterdam

I’m writing this from a Hilton Hotel room, a kids program blaring on BBC, a slight fever and a sore throat.

I guess it has to do only party with the busride which was really smooth. Lots of travellers to Amsterdam, obviously, I guess I will be meeting them on the way back tonight, and a nice Romanian lady (my guess, since she didn’t speek any language anyone one the bus could understand). She was very small and carried about four times her own volume in luggage and kept „pacing“ up and down the isle. I suspect that she would not be able to see anything in any of the art on display here in Rotterdam, but I also think that she would have a lot of understanding for any collector getting excited. Just because getting excited is a good thing to do.

Here is a picture of me looking out on the Mannheim Bus Station btw..

The first day at Art Rotterdam was sweet. I saw some interesting art, some of it in the „almost affordable“ range, most of it way out of reach. Ane Mette Hol (-> link, Lautom Contemporary, -> link) does some amazing stuff and I also liked the quiet beauty of the paintings by Andrea Lehman (-> link, seen at Anna Klinkhammer’s booth, -> link).

Although some people might find them dark, scary or whatever. I have been told, though, that Andrea is a perfectly happy person. Which doesn’t surprise me.

Here, by the way, is Christian, one of the founders of Independent Collectors, praising human engineering expertise in the shape of a pull up bridge:

The atmosphere here in Rotterdam is extraordinarily relaxed and unpretentious. The VIP with free drinks is sitting there and you could actually go on there and drink because no one checks if you have the proper ticket. Still it is not crowded, at least not on the last days of the fair.

I have to get ready to check ot now, so I’ll be giving you more of a report tomorrow. (Once I managed to get the photos off my phone.)

Or: I’m so bad at juggling.

To many people it has come as a surprise that I have decided to sell my record collection. But considering how much time I have spent in the last few years listening to records or buying vinyl compared to collecting SF literature and contemporary art, the vinyl loses.

First up is a batch of 46 Frank Zappa Vinyls. There is also someone interested in buying the batch, including duplicates. Yes, that’s right. Collecting records means that you have can afford duplicate copies of some. Up to three, in fact. Try that in contemporary art and see where it gets you. (To the negative side of your bank account and wall storage space, I guess.)

Next batch will be all of Bob Dylan’s studio albums, most offical live albums and some compilations. There will also be some “appropriation pressings” in there. Called “bootlegs” in the music business, in case you didn’t know. And no, bootlegs didn’t kill the music industry.

Speaking of killing, I’m also willing to part with the classic “Buggles” Single “Video Killed The Radio Star”. There really should be a contemporary version: “Video Art Killed The Fine Artist”. But there isn’t.

Let’s stop this garage sale rant and return to the headline of the post.

My personality always gets me into situations, where I have to face consequences. When I started collecting records I had to give up collecting Matchbox cars. Now that I have started collecting contemporary art, I have to give up collecting records. Then, I replaced a “no budget” hobby with an expensive one. This time, I’m replacing a dead hobby consisting of potential budget with a very much alive passion that craves for budget. 1+1=2. (Or rather 1+1=-2, as it happens to be.)

In my twisted version of the universe, this is a logical progression. Seen from the universe of my parents for example, it is just another one of the illogical phenomena of the illogical universe their son has decided to live in.

But I bet that I’m not the only collector who finds it necessary to free one hand in order to be able to grab more art …