Art for Art's Sake

At the sale where I bought this painting, the woman holding the backyard sale talked to me about some of the art she was selling. Keep in mind, this was a yard sale. By any standard— perhaps except the standard that most people expect at garage sales— the prices were low and most things were ordinary. As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I was drawn to this little piece of New Mexico history, even if it was the modest work of someone unknown. Most of the other paintings that were being offered for sale by this same aspiring artist didn’t appeal to me— at all. But there was something about this northern New Mexico scene that worked and spoke to me— the composition, the use of color, the very rural-ness of it. Since the painting is unsigned, I made a note of the woman to whom it was attributed courtesy of the person holding the sale. I’ve searched the internet for Athelene Blackburn in Albuquerque, and found it only in association with her husband’s 2005 obituary. Her own death is recorded only in a list of obits on a genealogy-related website a year later. Athelene Blackburn— an unusual name, and as far as I am concerned, the person who painted the modest landscape I have just hung on my wall. I offered the painting for sale at the same price I paid for it, $25, at a yard sale I held with friends a couple of weeks ago. No takers, no comments, no surprise. My good fortune.

I’ve only begun to see yard sales through the eyes of the seller since participating in a few sales in Santa Fe and Albuquerque over the last three years. In this time I’ve begun to recognize the faces of local dealers, especially in Santa Fe. It seems that everyone is looking for “the find”, “a find”, although some people will actually put out a little money for something they think is interesting and worthy— however one measures worthiness. On the other side of this equation, there are dealers who when you visit their high-end shop or see their exhibit at a vetted show, bring a garage sale mentality to a yard sale. To wit, a piece of New Mexico history I offered at a sale in Santa Fe for $50. The dealer picked it up (lots of people did over a two-day period), asking the price— “50” I replied, and after my answer, she asked “fifty cents?”. “No, 50 dollars”. Then she commented that she was spoiled by the sales she had been to that morning. “My, my,” not necessarily the words forming in my brain, but an expression of my dismay nonetheless. Wouldn’t you love to see some of her finds in her shop just off Canyon Road.

Ah, but isn’t it all relative. “It looks better from a distance,” we sometimes say about amateur art. The same can be said for works that bring serious money. Art for arts sake. Beauty in the eye of the beholder. A picture worth a thousand words. And more cliches, if you like. One of my favorite paintings is a still life I bought off the wall of a workshop of sorts near Delores Hidalgo (Guanajuato, Mexico) while visiting friends in San Miguel de Allende in 1998. I think it was one of those places where they make new furniture out of old wood. The painting was literally nailed to the wall. We spoke little Spanish, meaning I spoke no Spanish, and the guy who seemed to be in charge spoke little English. But he knew he would not sell the painting for less than $20 American. He took a claw hammer to the nails holding the painting to the wall, it came back to the U. S. in my duffel bag, and it’s one of the few pieces currently hanging on my own walls. Mounted on fabric and set into a frame, with no attempt at covering up the damage it has suffered, including being nailed to that wall in Mexico, it hangs on its own merit.

Periodically I recall the assessment of a guy who used to buy from me occasionally when I set up in the fields of one of the big markets in Texas—“Harold’s famous anonymous art,” he called it. Actually, I think it was a bit of a compliment. At least, that's how I chose, and continue to choose, to take his description of my generic--most of them unsigned--vintage landscapes and still lifes. “Sunday painters” is the name given all those talented folks whose art has adorned the walls of America for many generations. Maybe these people have had some lessons, maybe not. The fancy term for a self-taught person is “autodidact”. Call it what you will, I just call it a gift.

Ms. Blackburn’s painting has set on the floor in the corner of my bedroom for the better part of a year, along with most of the other framed art I brought to the little adobe-style house I lease in Albuquerque. I didn’t want to deal with repairing nail holes in the plaster walls when I decided to leave this place, so I chose instead just to stack my art in the corners of two or three rooms and to hang only five or six most favorite pieces. Why I’ve decided that Ms. Blackburn’s piece now deserves better than a place on the floor, in the corner, I can’t really say. Maybe it is because I’ve been assigned its guardian for a little while longer. From my bed, where most nights I read before turning out the light, I have a view of someone’s impression of a northern New Mexico fall in one of the rural settings that are not uncommon here. There doesn’t seem to be a better image to hold in my mind before drifting off to sleep.

Art for Art’s Sake— Albuquerque NM (June 6, 2012)
R. Harold Hollis