by Richard PolskyAn entertaining book about the inner-workings of the art world. The author chronicles his decades-long hunt for a Warhol to call his own, and this thread ties together the otherwise disparate tales of eccentricity and immaturity that commercial dealers and collectors of art call business as usual. Polsky and the other inhabitants of this odd but still commercial milieu relish storytelling, and several of his stories constitute retellings making this a kind of "greatest of" compilation of art-world exploits. After turning the last leaf I was tired already of the precariousness of making a living in the art business, the itch to do business and do it better than everyone else is the default mode of being—even when business is good.When it's bad, as it was after '89 and throughout most of the '90s, the perks, jokes, the pleasures of people and paint hardly seem to justify the work. Makes me glad that there are others out there like Polsky who don't buckle under the pressure—they thrive on it. So I can spend my life pursuing intellectual—rather than commercial—projects.
I read this book after reading "Deluxe" in which Dana Thomas mentions the rapid sale of a hot item, a Gucci bag (I believe) for $82,100.While this seems an unreal amount of money to spend on an accessory item, it also serves as a point of contrast on which the ultimate cache and glamour of the art world can be hung: the Guccis and Hermeses of art represent the ultimate commodity, and have prices to match. Today it would be impossible to buy even a small Warhol for $82,100. Times are good again: in May of last year one of Warhol's Car Crashes broke price barriers at Christie's, selling for $71.1 million, matching price points for Rothko and Bacon.
|Title||I Bought Andy Warhol|
|eBook format||Paperback, (torrent)|
|File size||6.3 Mb|
|Book rating||3.64 (205 votes)