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Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa, where I read an article recently.  Yet, another artist explaining why he had started making "prints" (reproductions) of his work.

The first reason given, example used, is that we've all had copies hanging in our space at some point in time.  Copies of famous artist's work, so famous that no one can afford them.  The names used were Monet, Pissarro, that caliber of famous.  

The logic was that having copies made of their work didn't damage their reputation or value of work, so it wouldn't harm us modern day artists either.  (it was the perfect opener to launch into one of my continuing tirades...)

Hunh.  Honey you're just not that important.  You're speaking of artists whose work has stood the test of time.  A very few artists, a select few artists.  Certainly not every Tom, Dick and Harry painting at the time, right?

And those copies were made AFTER they were famous, dead/gone/and buried, and NOT able to create any more new work.

So copy maker of today:  you are just not that important - and I'll be generous, not knowing your specific situation, and add that great word - YET.  

In the meantime, paint on.  Those little paper/canvas copies are just space takers.  Taking up the space that the real work should occupy.  Taking up the space of time when you could be creating the next great art, instead of managing yesterday's stuff that wasn't quite as good as tomorrow's.

Thanks for stopping by.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa, where today, the subject is mud.

Yes, mud.  Not a very highly rated word, is it? Normally when we think about mud, it's in terms of it being stuck to the bottoms of our shoes, only to be tracked into the house.  Or think about the dog, that you so enjoyed the sight of playfully scampering through the yard, but now eagerly at your knee, possibly even jumping, in his desire for affection, on your very light colored pants, with his muddy paws? 

Ah, yes, mud.  Nobody wants it, right?  Wrong!  Have you missed the fact that an extremely large portion of the central United States is involved in a severe drought?  Central United States, aka, bread basket of the nation.  Now I know much of the population of the United States believes that what happens out on the farm really doesn't affect them.  (and I have a bridge I can sell you, as well)  After all, food comes from the grocery store-right?  Okay, here's a heads-up:  if the nation's corn crop is reduced by 1/3, your grocery bill will notice.  Last week, farmers near Springfield, Illinois were discing up the now dead corn crop, hoping on an outside chance that they'll get some rain and be able to grow a short season crop.  Farmers in Wayne, Nebraska are attempting to bale what's left of their corn crop - no corn on the stalk, but hopefully the leaf portion of the plant will appease some hungry cows.  Here are a couple of articles for further insight:

 article 1  and article 2

But here's my point:  when there's mud available in large quantity, not too many people are thrilled with it.  In fact, quite a few people will go out of their way to avoid it.  When it's in short supply, or in today's case, NON EXISTANT, everyone wants it.  People are praying for rain.  Praying for rain, that will make mud. 

"Now, how in blazes is she going to tie this into a painting blog?", you ask?

Simple.  Supply and demand.  When there's a whole bunch of it, nobody wants it.  When it's scarce, it's pretty darned desirable.

Keep that in mind, as you contemplate printing off images of your latest painting, 100 copies each of three different sizes.

And help pray for some rain, please.  Thanks.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  Where we are praying for (and planning on) rain.

Besides that, about the title, and here we go.

I was at an art fair last weekend.  And I was eavesdropping.  Not intentionally, mind you, people were just talking loudly and it was hard to avoid.

 "Yeah, most of these people don't really make this"

 "We're so tired of seeing all this copy stuff"

 "Why do these people expect us to buy this stuff when it's all fake"

Yes.  Really.  Why?

And then I heard this, from a potential patron.  In my booth.  Talking to me:

 "I just bought a painting last year, made with that new kind of paint, you know, it has a french sounding name, kind of like gel".

And so I said:

"You don't mean giclee, do you?

Patron: 

Yeah!  That's it!

I tried not to break her heart, but I talked to her about digital copies and how they can be printed on canvas now.

She said:

 "Oh, no!  This one is real.  The artist signed it and everything.  It even has a certificate saying it's authentic, on the back.  I talked with her a long time about it.  It's a great painting.  She told me what a smart investment I was making, and how the value was definitely going to increase".

And I hear artists say they print giclees so their patrons can take home a "memento" of a painting they like but can't afford.

I suppose someone will tell me that this patron is a one-of-a-kind art dumbo.

Or that the art-fraud artist is a  (surely there's only one artist who would ever do something like that!) one-of-kind.

I'm dubious about both of those. 

Fortunately, there are still a few artists out there, who, when they talk about one-of-a-kind, mean real paint on real canvas.

And then the junior high crowd cruised by:  "Hey, lady, do you know where they sell the frozen hot chocolates?"

Sheesh.  Only at an art fair.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa, where I have had a question hanging around in the back of my thoughts lately.

It started when I read Lori Woodward's article Leveraging Your Income With Reproductions. And if you scan your way back to earlier this year to read my three online rants about reproductions, you'll quickly learn my opinion of said process.

BUT! Today, I have a question. Hey, it's right up there in the title box: Are You Good Enough To Copy?

When I get to the city and find myself in an art museum, I am always impressed by the number of students-of-the-arts that are busy filling up pages of their sketch books. Copying the masters, and I think we can all agree it's a great learning tool. So: Degas? Vermeer? Renoir? Morisot? (to mention a few) Good enough to copy?? Oh yeah. As an artist besotted with rendering the figure, I should probably spend the next several decades (!) copying Edgar Degas.

It's been a few years since the aforementioned folks were doing their paint slinging thing on this earth. Quite a few years. And yet, art lovers everywhere still point back to them. Even if you don't love their style, you can't deny the quality of the work. And you know what else? They are dead and gone and not likely to be creating any new works of art, so copy them. Copy them in coffee table books and museum posters. Heck, you can even do a cheap HobbyLobby copy.

And yes, we switched from active learning-style copying to reproduction & hang it on your wall style copying. The point is they are good enough to copy. They've stood the test of time, made it through the unloved period of their peer critics, and came out with accolades in the art history books. They are good enough to copy.

What about Joe Smith Artist? (and I do apologize if you are an artist named Joe Smith--I had to use something!) Is Joe good enough to copy? Is Joe's work of sufficient expertise that the world REALLY needs more than one rendering of his August Landscape or Ode To The Rooster?

A FASO friend (Thanks Marian!) commented on the same article about "leveraging your income with repros" with this thought: "Why would someone want to purchase a reproduction of a so-so painting even if it IS cheap??" Emphasis the so-so painting part. Why are we copying so-so stuff? And I spend plenty of time on the summer art fair scene--I can guarantee it's happening.

I wish I could take all those mislead patrons by the hand and introduce them to some of the daily painter types that were refered to in the original article. People doing their small daily paintings and selling them for not very much. (one location)

Because when we get down to the bottom line, real is still real, and a copy is still a copy. If we are talking about spending a couple hundred on a small daily painting original, or a couple hundred on a giclee of a "less than master" class painting--well--I guess by now you know which one gets my vote.

Thanks for stopping by.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

I was going to stop at #2.  Really.

And then, here's what happened:

I had two paintings to deliver.  We agreed to meet halfway, so neither of us would have too long of a drive.  So, we met and were sitting at Panera, having a cup of coffee, talking about the fund raiser for the Linn Creek Arts Festival  (Marshalltown, Iowa) which the two paintings will hopefully help with.  After a good chat, one of the committee members handed me my check for the paintings, and I prepared to leave.  She stopped me with "oh, wait, I have to do a write-up for our newsletter, and I want to make sure I've got all the details correct."  I'd already given the committee a copy of my artist statement and info about the paintings.

What she said next made me realize #3 had to be written.  Here we go.  She said:  "I know a little bit about art, but sometimes it can get confusing.  These are real paintings, right?  With all the things people do to paintings lately, sometimes it's hard to tell."  Oh dear.  So you see?  I have to write this, take #3.

And then I remembered my recent visit with the computer tech.  I'd taken the desk top beast in for help.  We talked about a part that had three initials on the front and six or seven on the back of it's name.  All Greek to me.  I am not a computer tech, and I don't know their language.  Every now and then, I try, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to spend a lot more time with it to get it.  I am not a construction worker, and I don't know their industry lingo, either.  Nor  am I a doctor, and maybe that's why we have web md, the lay person's guide to should-I-go-see-my-Dr?  We are artists and in our conversation cache are words like copies, reproductions, limited edition reproductions, giclees, enhanced giclees... 

I wondered: if computer tech talk is Greek to me, then are limited edition reproductions and giclees just like Greek to the bus drivers of the world?  The physical therapists?  The gourmet chefs?

I went to an alternate website and asked people this:  "...I am working on a project and need opinions from normal people (not artists!) Do the words reproductions, prints, giclees and paintings all mean the same thing to you? Or are they separate and distinct? Couldn't care less?! :) No right or wrong answers, but I do need real people insight..."

Was this a numerically constructed and officially supervised survey?  NO.  It was a what-do-you-think inquiry.  Nothing hermetically sealed in a mayonnaise jar on Funk and Wagnall's back porch.

Interestingly, most of the responders were teachers, there was a mental health professional, an arts center staff member (theater), a CPA, a gallery owner and of course, artists. I didn't consider the gallery owner's personal views, because she also is an artist, but speaking for her clients she said "But in the industry it does make a huge difference how you list reproduced products." which I think echos the thoughts of an earlier commenter that educating patrons is important.  I'll list a few responses and please note that they are unedited (and I MEAN that) quotes:

1.  "I'm totally uneducated in art lingo, but as a normal consumer, to me painting means an original, prints and reproductions are copies, and a giclee sounds highbrow enough that I probably couldn't afford it."

2.  "I don't know about the "normal" part, and although I would love to be an artist, I am not, but here's my opinion on this. To me, the word reproduction or print, means "cheap", and painting means a one of a kind original that I would buy. Giclee? After googling it, and finding out it's an inkjet print, I was disappointed. The name sounds much fancier than that. :)"

3.  "Reproductions,prints and paints all have a distinctive different meaning in my mind; not sure if they're the right meanings, but... I've never heard of giclees but I love learning new words so I'll look it up and add it to my vocabulary!"

I was pleased to hear that these three commentors, as well as most of the rest, knew there was a difference between reproductions or copies, and paintings, and understood them somewhat.  The word giclee however, was a problem. 

Early comments to this discussion (take #1 and #2) mentioned that it was nice to have a reminder of an artist, and a reproduction can do that.  It makes me think of VanGogh posters of Starry Night in the art center gift shop.  Everybody knows they are copies, but they are reminders of time spent at the gallery viewing paintings.  They often have a title and artist listed in text, down at the bottom in the margin.  We can all mentally image that, right?  No doubt of what their purpose is.

 Does that bring us to the giclee?  Wait:  maybe we need the dictionary: 

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

Last time I was here, we discussed reproductions.  Okay, maybe not so much a discussion as the resident artist airing strong opinions.  These things happen.

Today we need to look at reproductions again, but this time from a seldom used viewpoint.We need to ask the question:  is it good for the artist?  Really, is making a reproduction of your artwork good for the artist in you?  I have an anecdote for this, and don't I always?!

437 years ago (give or take a few) when I was in high school, there was a school policy regarding inviting students into that esteemed group, The National Honor Society.  The bylaws, or articles of order, or some close relative thereof stated that invitation was based on the overall academic profile of the student.  You may read into that, GPA, or grade point average.  The first year my classmates and I were eligible to be invited to NHS was our sophomore year, based on the track record/grade book of the freshman year.  We had a couple of true brainiacs in our class, the kind of people who got A's no matter how hard the class was.  But the rest of the invites that year, hmm, no tough classes on their schedules--no wonder they got A's AND invited to join NHS.  What was wrong with this picture?  Always the rebel, I continued to take the hardest classes available, I was not taking the slacker route to NHS, no-siree-bob!  No brag, just fact  :)  Did I ever make it into National Honor Society?  Yes, just barely--I think they were signing my diploma and kicking me out the door about the same time I got my invitation.  Ha.  So much for that.

But was the award the achievement, or the learning from the serious effort that really scored?  I like to think that at the end of four years and the beginning of the rest, by taking the tougher classes and devoting more effort to study, that I had gotten to a better place than those who were not working quite so diligently.

Turn it back around to art.  And reproductions.  And whether they are good for the artist.  On my Reproductions Rant, Take #1 :) that I wrote a few days ago, a very interesting comment came in asking "a steady stream of income for the lazy artist?"  I think we played it lightly at the time, but it's still kind of hanging around in my thoughts.

Ouch.  Can the reproduction become an enabler?  No need to work too hard today, that painting I did last summer is still selling one every now and then?  And seriously, if you are in the business of selling copies, why would you plan on working in the studio eight hours a day?  No need, right?  But wait, what about the learning, and the experiences, and the growing of skills?  Making and selling reproductions might work for the short haul, but what about the long run?

And right here I'll save that artist that wants to talk income needs from wording a comment.  Because when you ask an artist why they make reproductions and you've heard their number one answer:  "some of my patrons don't have enough money for a real painting" comes the number two answer:  I have to make a living and if I didn't have reproductions, I would hardly ever sell anything at all."  Are you sure?  About the "can't sell originals" part?  Because other people do.  Do people buy your reproductions instead of your originals because they can?  Because they are there, and someone told them it was okay?

There have been times at the lovely summer art fair venue, where people come into my exhibit, get involved with a painting, and then ask for a smaller copy.  When I explain my only originals policy to them, almost ALWAYS the reaction is the same.  They blink, say "oh!" and they buy the painting.  Well, the blink and "oh" are variables, but the part about buying the painting--the original--that's pretty much how it works. 

And so again we ask, is the reproduction good for the artist?  Are you taking the easier road making reproductions of work you did a while back, or are you in the studio creating new everyday, gaining new experiences as you go?

We all have "role model artists" we aspire to, right?  When I look at the websites of my favorites, people whose work I admire and whose level I would love to achieve some day, I don't see reproductions available, or print-on-demand anything.  I see originals.  Paintings that are one of a kind.  Work that shows the artist has been in the studio, not out making reproductions.

Thanks for stopping by.  Have a lovely painting day  :)

Later, Cooper