According to Bloomberg.com, Charles Saatchi recently complained that everyone he meets these days seems to be an art collector.
Though he was exaggerating, it's certainly true that art collecting -- and buying contemporary art in particular -- has grown astonishingly in recent years. ``Owning Art: The Contemporary Art Collector's Handbook'' by Louisa Buck and Judith Greer is packed with valuable advice for all those proud new possessors of works by Tracey Emin and Jeff Koons.
In the U.K., buying new art was until recently an eccentric activity practiced by a tiny minority. Now the Brits have joined mainland Europeans and other collectors around the globe who are fast catching up with Americans in manic art acquisition. And the whole caboodle has been turbocharged by hedge-fund money.
Recall that this is an unregulated market rife with insider dealing. Then remember that the value of the basic commodity -- contemporary art -- depends on a fragile consensus among curators, dealers and collectors that a certain item, possibly not easily distinguished from detritus, is of merit. This fascinating world may collapse one day, though maybe that's part of the fun.
Buck and Greer walk you through the whole business of collecting avant-garde works -- what to look for, whom to buy it from, how to take care of it and how to give it away to an institution of your choice. The only drawback is that the tone is so reverential in places that it's intimidating.
Religious Cult
Entering the ``art world,'' it seems, is not unlike joining a religious cult. The newcomer must submit to numerous rules. Don't buy for investment; it's ``frowned upon.'' Don't sell a work without first notifying the dealer you bought it from; it may drive down the value of the artist's other pieces. Employ conservators, and keep an archive. (The museum to which you donate your works will appreciate a full dossier.)
Virtuous behavior is applauded. The art world thinks well of those who give generously to MoMA. There are respectful mentions of people who set aside 25 percent or more of their income to the cause of art. One collector is commended for retaining a work ``encrusted with ancient shrimp curry'' cooked by Rirkrit Tiravanija as part of a gastronomic performance piece.
This resembles a medieval monk conserving the bones of a saint. Though art collecting is tinged with religious fervor, there are times when this book smacks of those solemn manuals on how to care for your pet.
Mind the Maid
A Jackson Pollock isn't just for Christmas, no indeed. Keeping contemporary art going is a headache, especially when it's made of unconventional materials like shrimp curry. Even more orthodox media aren't easy. A conservator is quoted as suggesting the only way to preserve photographs is to freeze them, keep them in total darkness and never, ever look at them.
Then you've got to worry about insurance and the servants: You don't want your maid, like one described here, to throw away the wrapping on your Christo.
Yet this book, to its credit, does make it clear that owning art can be wonderful. You pay for it, and then -- if you have the right piece -- it trains your eye, expands your mind and even changes your life. That's worth a lot of bother.
``Owning Art'' is published by Cultureshock Media (296 pages, 14.95 pounds, $30, 25 euros).
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