Quite some time ago, I was stumbled across this project by music critic Christopher Weingarten (-> Link) by a fellow Independent Collectors member:

Christopher Weingarten had made the speach below at the “140 Characters Conference”, introducing his project of writing 1.000 album reviews on Twitter over the course of 2009.

Let’s just say he succeeded. He then went on to preserve his project for eternity, with the help of a service called Kickstarter, where ordinary people like you and me can help fund projects. This is the link I followed upon recommendation of the IC member, and I ended up here (-> Link).

Now, the prospect of getting my hands on a wodden crate, containing 1.000 hand-typed index cards with an album review each, that’s more than enough to make the mouth of any music enthusiast water. And, as for official validation of the “Tweetbox” as a piece of contemporary art, Paddy Johnson’s opinion over at ArtFagCity (->Link) is way enough for me. Not that I needed any to begin with.

For me, the “Tweetbox” is a bold statement about society in general today, not just limited to the music scene or even the blogger/twitter/whatever scene. Media is shying away from “the because” as a whole.

Plus the box is a work even Sisyphus would have a hard time completing. Writing next to three album reviews means he has to listen to three albums a day. He has to stick with it and then someone had to type all those tweets. As far as I know, 24 boxes have been made. That’s 24.000 cards. A lot of index cards.

Enough babble, here come the pictures:

Now get this: I live in a smallish German town between Stuttgart and Munich. How big are the chances that two of the 24 boxes would end up in my area? Small.

How big are the chances of me actually meeting the other guy who owns one at customs while picking the thing up, although he had received his two weeks earlier and just happened to be there picking up something else? Nil. Yet, it did happen.

Anyhow, I’m very glad to have this unique record of one man’s struggle to keep alive the idea of “reason & professionalism” in my home. Even if the gold paint is coming off … nothing a pair of gloves couldn’t fix. Back to listen to some music now.

PS: Weingarten on twitter (->Link)

While at Art Amsterdam, I met Melle Hendrikse (again), who is running a gallery in Bejing (→ link), as well as a space in the Netherlands.

Visiting him at his booth, I saw this work:

Insignificance, Carine Weve (→ link), 2010
It consists of 1547 index cards in seven index card cases on a table and a DVD.


I liked the look of it and I also liked the simple statement printed on each card:

useless piece of paper
got it for free, unasked
worthless to me
so tried to sell it, give it away
nobody wants it

Now what really got me was the story behind it. I will use Carine’s own words:

‘Insignificance’ is based on the true ’story’ behind the sheets of photopaper I used for it. Buying value packs HP Printer ink, I always get 150 sheets of this paper for free. USELESS to me. UNASKED. And it’s true… I TRIED TO SELL IT (internet), GIVE IT AWAY (family, friends, colleagues) , and NOBODY WANTS IT.

Finally I decided to use these insignificant sheets of paper, their insignificant history to develope a new work. Seen from this context the text had to be similar for each sheet of paper, but by stamping it character by character they all become unique. So I gave them their own unique number starting with 0001 until 1547 today.

That’s right: Each letter on each of the 1547 cards is hand stamped by the artist (hence the DVD where you can see the process). Here is a coincidence turned idea turned reality with the help of Sisyphos. And I dig that sort of stuff.


Did I buy it? Nope. But …

Now, I stood there looking at the DVD for some minutes, which shows the table from the top. You can see the table (part of the work), covered with a piece of paper to protect it from the ink. You see the ink pad. You see, on the paper, the stamps for the individual letters. You the artists hands reaching for an index card, placing it in always the same spot. Then, taking one stamp after each other, stamping the same sentence on each card.


I immediately wondered: What happened to that piece of paper?

In the video you can see Weve stamping number 0601 – 0610 of the cards. And I noticed how the stamps leave little traces of ink on the paper, I saw how Carine used the paper to clean the stamps, how a space remained cleaner, because that’s where she placed the cards. I had the sense that she placed the stamps in a peculiar way …

As I found out later, she organized “… the stamps, to work as economic as possible. That’s how the working paper arose with it’s own logic related to my body and the text with her own economy. For example: the stamps with character ‘K’ and ‘M’ are completely left in the paper because they both occur only once in the text.”

I had the feeling that this piece of paper with its own alphabetical logic contained so much more of the artists work on the piece “Insignificance” than the finished piece itself. It is marked by the hours of tedious work and concentration (lamost like one of Karin Sander’s “Patina Paintings”).


So I thought, hell, let’s be a bit naive and blunt and ask the gallery owner a simple question: “What happened to that piece of paper?”


He looked at me, smiled and said: “I don’t know but I can find out.”



He called the artist there and then who said that she had indeed kept the paper, thinking about making it a seperate piece, because she, too, liked what happened to it. Sadly, I had to leave that day, but Carine took a picture of the finished paper (after stamping 1547 cards) and sent it to Melle who sent it to me:

It’s 32 x 48 cm large and titled “Insignificance; working paper”.



I think it’s absolutely beautiful! Luckily, my wife agrees.

Carine Weve wrote to me after we agreed on the deal, telling me the complete background of the work in her own words. Here is another quote: “At the bottom are little signs of my wrist or hand resting from time to time on the paper. For that matter you couldn’t have bought a more private work. The whole process, the total amount of characters I stamped, the time it took, my concentration (a certain level of concentration was needed), is hidden in this paper. I don’t know what you saw watching the DVD, but you’ve recognized ‘it’.”

Now that’s what a collector likes to hear, right?

So, gut feeling and a simple question led to this extremely awesome addition to my young collection. What do we learn from this?
Trust your gut and ask questions.




PS: What does HP learn from this? Nobody wants your paper. So you should really thank the artist for finally putting it to use.

For the 2010 edition, the Art Amsterdam (→ link) has come up with an interesting set of themes for their discussion panels: “The Age of the Collector”. They all deal with collecting and relation between collectors and the other partakers in the art market. The panel I was asked to attend was about the “pro-active” collector.

In the prep-talk with Renée Steenbergen, I arrived at a statement I completely failed to mention in the discussion:

“Collectors are by definition pro-active. They’re just making use of other tools now.”

From my point of view, collecting is an activity. Being a passive collector would be like being a passive football player. What would you do? Stand on the field until the ball ends up before you and then not kick it? Give your money to someone who buys art for you and you never take any interest in it? There may be such people but I really don’t want to talk about them right now.

So collectors are already active. But are they pro-active? If active means looking for art, discussing it, observing the whole scene, developing a taste or even a collecting strategy, then “pro-active” may mean all activities beyond exchanging money for objects.

I find it difficult to imagine a collector who does not, given the opportunity, like to talk about his collection, about certain pieces and artists or about art in general. I also find it impossible to imagine a collector who doesn’t enjoy seeing passion arise in the eyes of other people he talks to about his collection, if they are collectors or not. I believe that for most collectors, this is part of the experience.

Collectors are also scouts. They like to discover new artists and to suggest them to galleries and other collectors. Very often they suggest an artist they personally wouldn’t buy to other collectors who might. Collectors have always traded works among themselves. If another collector has what they want, they go after it. Going after something: highly pro-active. Also, collectors have always been making suggestions or extending commissions to artists. Very pro-active. And, last but not least: Collectors are donating their collections to specific institutions (which might not be pro-active) or they build their own museum (highly pro-active).

Collectors have been doing this before ebay and facebook. But as they became more comfortable with the new tools and as it became increasingly simpler to make use of the internet, the use of these tools also increases. There is no real difference between sending pictures by post or by email (apart from cost and speed) or between publishing a printed catalog or putting it online (apart from cost, speed and reach), between meeting like-minded people at a fair or an opening or in an online community (apart from reach, and speed).

A social community like Independent Collectors (→ link) is just another tool to meet and stay in touch with like-minded people. In terms of collectors, it is a place to share a passion, to present and talk about ones collection, to support or discover new artists, to “restructure” ones collection from collector to collector.

Who could be afraid of a pro-active collector making use of that? Galleries, because collectors are suddenly discussing, discovering, promoting, buying and selling works among themselves? Hardly. Collectors have always been doing that. Only the frequency, reach and speed may have increased. I believe that gallery owners who are voicing such concerns only do so because they now have to do their job properly. Educated customers are not harder to please, they are only harder to fool. My theory is that, in the end, it’s a lot easier to close a sale with them, though. And some gallery owners may be critical just because they are expected to.



So what is the point in discussing the topic at all?

Right now, many of the big, influential gallery owners and collectors have many many years of experience. Meaning: They are old. They witnessed the rise of the fax-machine. And it’s death. Of course they might discuss the arrival of a new tool and its possibly negative short term effects … instead of asking: What’s next? Can the increased pro-activity be used to enhance the quality of collecting and the collections? Can it be used to enhance the quality of art? Can it be used to spread the passion?

The latter seems to be a common core to many activities taking place right now. Galleries have big shop windows and advertise their shows outside the art world: They want to art to be seen. Collectors are lending works to exhibitions: They want the art to be seen. Collectors donate works or whole collections to institutions, open their own showrooms or build their own museums. They want the art to be seen.

And this is an interesting starting point: Twenty years ago, privately owned art was gone and invisible for the public. Now (2010), more and more initiatives are being started to keep it visible.



Imagine all the art ever sold could be explored, either in the flesh or virtually, like a huge interactive reference book, a catalog of art. Utopia? Maybe, but what an awesome resource to have!

These are the questions we should try to answer. In the end, we’re interested in art, aren’t we?

PS: Thank you Art Amsterdam (namely Edo and Renée) for having me, and thank you Jeroen Wassink and especially Reyn van der Lugt for not only letting me share the panel with them, but for being so open and for sharing your insights.

Above: An untitled work by → Han Schuil that I found to be funny. It actually does look like someone just whacked the artwork over the head. Some art could use a little whacking, I suppose …

Below: “The Rediscovery of Monopolychrome” by V&B (Alex Jacobs en Ellemieke Schoenmaker ), which could actually be the title and cover of a Greatful Dead album. Also check out their work “The Depot” → here.

Above: Just something I came upon.

Below: “Schattenfischer” for 2.000 EUR. I wonder whether the price in pencil on that table is part of the artwork.

Above: With the world championship coming up, this is a bit too much. Otherwise I like the look.

Below: Words on string. “… heaven …” by Boukjie Hansen. I like the simplicity of this work. And there is more where that comes from. I will have to check some of it out.

I saw this also at C-Space, the place I bought something from. Stay tuned …

Taking a night train from Ulm, Germany to Amsterdam is actually a pretty good choice. If you have earplugs and can sleep in the adult equivalent of a baby-safe, that is. I also admit that a flask of Green Label and the entire Doors catalog on the MP3 player of your choice are a great help.

After nine hours of pretty sound sleep, I arrive on the construction site, pardon me, Amsterdam Centraal. Crossing the street to get a completely useless 48hrs pass for the local transport (useless thanks to the VIP shuttle service I can use with my badge) and then into the first available tourist joint for a pancake and some coffee. The weather is sweet.

On the tram to RAI, the fair location, I see not a single poster advertising the fair. Reaching the construction site, pardon me, the fair areal, I see the first big poster. Fortunately I don’t head for it, but follow a dude with a beard and an “Art-Amsterdam-coloured” badge, because the actual fair is quite a walking distance from the location of the poster.

The VIP desk is subtly placed, or hard to find, which ever you prefer, the staff is busy but friendly. “Here is your badge. It’s a bit flimsy, so be careful.” It is, so I am.

Leaving the VIP package and my bag, I enter the fair proper, taking a first quick stroll around the outer perimeter before I have to attend the first meeting. What I see is visually pleasing and caters to my tastes. Dutch fairs seem to have that ability, Rotterdam felt similar.

I end up talking to Petra Nostheide Eycke (of the same → gallery) about the work of Mark Kramer (→ link) that I find mesmerizing:

See larger versions at my flickr account (→ link)

I will end up not buying it because it’s what I call “dead end art”. It doesn’t mean I think it’s bad, it just doesn’t leave me with any questions. It doesn’t inspire me. I dig the look. But I’m not looking for decoration.

Leaving my meeting and the discussions during the Collectors’ Program to another entry in this journal, I progress …

Continuing my stroll through the fair, I see more stuff that I like. And also a lot of things that make me check if I have my glasses on. I do. Then I check if it’s a Gerhard Richter. Turns out: The art is blurred on purpose. I make a note to come back the next day and take pictures of all the motion blur, gaussian blur and what have you. Here is a selection:

See more evidence at my flickr account (→ link)

Continuing I can’t miss the ghost in the carpet. Nice floor work throughout the fair, by the way. Keep your head down:

Larger version is available. (→ link)

Visual highlights include this artwork which is completely devoid of axes:

(“Personality Disorder”, Arik Levy)

And across the aisle, there is an untitled sculpture by Super A (clocking in at roughly 28.000 EUR) that could either be an Isaac Asimov memorial or be called “The Dude”. If neither rings a bell with you, I hope you have other stuff to make you smile.

The “train lag” starts to hit me shortly after 6pm and I head out towards the shuttle service. No Citroen in sight. I consult with the VIP desk. The friendly girl tries to tell me where the taxis are. I know where the taxis are, I want to use the VIP shuttle. “Are you VIP?” she asks. My cheap H&M hat, t-shirt, washed out jeans and scruffy beard don’t seem to convince her. Flashing the VIP badge does. “Oh, you are VIP.” Yes, sorry.

I wait for the car. The driver is a young guy, studies marketing. That late in the afternoon, I’m the fourth person he drives. The hotel is cute. My room a tight fit. I decide against going online and head out for some beer and some döner. It was not very good. But you can’t have everything …

Just before I embark on a small trip to Amsterdam, to get absolutely doped up on contemporary art, here is something I have posted over at the Independent Collectors discussion forum and have meant to share over here for ages. So here goes:

“The Great Contemporary Art Bubble” by Ben Lewis, created in 2008 and 2009 is subtitled “The Film The Art World Doesn’t Want You To See”. Let me answer three questions swiftly, to give you an overview:

Is the film worth watching? Yes, I think so. At least I enjoyed it.

What’s good about it? Is is humourous, investigative and demystifying.

What’s bad about it? If you have been in the art business for some time, you may not be surprised. And the movie could do with about 30 minutes less.

Having said that, I will try and keep this concise.

Ben Lewis Trailer on Youtube.

The idea is an interesting one. Ben Lewis set out to investigate what actually is (or was) behind the contemporary art boom that catapulted it into the realms of tabloid interest. Naturally, his investigation has to concentrate on the peak of an iceberg most collectors will not even feel part of.

Lewis collects statements from art professionals and billionaire collectors, who saw a bright future for the art market despite the economy’s downturn. It is actually quite amusing to see how their tone gets more subdued and how they try to avoid the filmmaker altogether as soon as the disaster really strikes. I say amusing because A) they probably haven’t lost that much money in their art speculation and B) because it clearly shows what they are after. How could they be so devastated, just because an artwork they claim to have bought for the love of it, fails to sell at a good price?

The downside of the film is that is seems to be based on the assumption that the art business would function differently than any other billion dollar business. It’s almost as if Ben expected it to less riddled with manipulation and greed. Somehow I fail to see the reason why that should be the case.

Many facts that Lewis and his interview partners reveal could be dismissed with a shrug: “Sure that’s the way it goes. What’s the news?” Of course one expects gallery owners and dealers, and especially the owners of the art works to try and protect and develop the price. Everything else would be foolish, surely. And it is commonly known that many billionaires buy works and sell them again shortly thereafter without even having unpacked the item once. It is also obvious that some people who happen to have a lot of money buy art not because they’re passionate about it, but because it’s a status symbol. Who would have thought?

What is interesting, however, is why the protagonists of this circus chose to express such a dislike in Lewis capturing the fact on film that the financial development of the art market was helped along quite deliberately, if it is a commonly known fact, at least among most participants. Maybe that is also just part of their PR strategy.

After showing that contemporary art can be a lot of fun (even in the realm of million dollar works) in his “Art Safari” episodes, Ben Lewis dismantles the contemporary art bubble and shows how the that burst had worked. And it is fun to watch. (Go to Ben Lewis, if you like: → link)

I’m just glad that the part of the circus I thrive in remains extraordinarily unaffected by this.

After moving house, I started hanging the art as it came out of the boxes, strolling through the apartment to find a nice spot. A lot of the small pieces are in the office, where I can see them, others are in the living room or in a dark spot in the hallway.

I made sure none of them is exposed to direct sunlight and the delicate items have been placed in the darkest rooms with either no windows or windows facing north.

Find more pictures at flickr.

We are back with the second part of the conversation with Tsjalling from the Netherlands.

Autograph by Jake and Dinos Chapman, from Tsjalling’s collection.

You have started something called “The 100,- EUR collection”. You want to buy an artwork under 100,- EUR every month for the duration of one year. You are about half way through … tell us about that.

This collection is a follow-up of some bar talk with IC co-founder Christian Schwarm. We talked about a new project after your Collector’s Duel and this was one of them. Sorry for nicking the idea!

You’re welcome, Tsjalling, I’ll just be nicking one of yours in the future …

My budget to spend on art is not very large, so it’s either buy one or two larger works a year, or this. I’m a bit of a shop-a-holic, so trying to buy something new every month is better for me.

My girlfriend Mieke and I search the internet to find artists we like. Nowadays a lot of young artists have an online shop, so that way we find great stuff from all over the world, some even of quite famous artists. But it does have to fit into my collection. But now being halfway I find it more difficult than I first thought though. It’s hard to find something you really love on first sight.

“A trip on Oct 22, 2009 in Turkey” by David Horvitz from Tsjalling’s collection

I find it hard to agree with that. I find something worth buying almost every other week. What makes it difficult for you? Is it the problem of actually finding things or is it difficult to fall in love with something you see on the web but not in real life?

There is so much on the internet. I sometimes find it hard to see the quality in things. Maybe as you say: it’s hard to fall in love with something you don’t see. And I don’t really collect artist’s books or records like you do, so that’s a difference as well.

You are also listing the prices you have paid for the works. Some collectors make funny faces when asked what they have spent, even in that price range and claim it has nothing to with money. Why do you think that is?

Art has to do with money, but the experience of it hasn’t. Works that are affordable can have as great an influence on you as can very expensive things, but the best things tend to have a very high price. Never mind that though, you can go see them in a museum.

To me it doesn’t really matter what I paid for a work, but I want to show starting collectors that you can get great stuff for a nice price. And people did contact me about where I got some of the work, so it really works! I did hesitate about putting the prices there though, because of the artists. Although most things I bought come from their own internet stores, I’m not sure whether they like it when people think their work is maybe too cheap. Maybe it could put more advanced buyers of.

Why people don’t want to talk prices I don’t know. Maybe they think it is showing off their wealth. But who cares? Most people that collect know what prices you pay for certain work, so everyone will know anyway.

You said you want to encourage starting collectors by showing them that the price range for great art starts at “affordable”. Would you say you actively want to help younger collectors? Is this something maybe more collectors should put an effort in?

Yes, I could say I’d like to turn other people into collectors I guess. You can get a lot of joy out of buying art that is different from seeing art just in museums. You have to think about things like: do you want to live with it, is it worth what your paying for it, are you going to like this in some time?
And I do think it is a good thing if more experienced collectors help guide younger collectors, but I’m a bit sceptical on courses in collecting. What do people learn there? How to look, what to buy? I don’t really know, but I think it is important to start buying with your gut, not to much your brain. Don’t be unsure about what you buy, if you like it, it’s good!

Usually experienced or “successful” collectors (who are most often well equipped with funds) get asked to give advice to young collectors. Which is fair enough, but let’s turn it upside down a little. You have been collecting for some time now, in your own ways. What kind of advice would you give to a “senior” collector?

Keep on buying work by artists that are just starting. Instead of spending 30.000,- EUR on your fifth Jonathan Meese or Rineke Dijkstra make ten or maybe even twenty young artists happy with buying their work. They need it more, not only financially, but also as recognition and as encouragement to go on making art. I know quite a few young artists, and they have a really hard time, and there are a lot, even good ones, that quit after a few years because of lack of support from collectors: they need sales to get into and keep their galleries, they need galleries to get exhibitions in museums, articles in magazines and so on.

Let’s be specific. Could you give us three artists you would suggest an experienced collector should buy?

Let’s stay in The Netherlands for that ok?

A great young sculptor from Germany who works in Amsterdam is David Jablonowski (→ link)

I love the drawings of Marc Nagtzaam. Great geometrical compositions in pencil. (→ link)

Hans Hoekstra. Very sensitive paintings, just won the Royal Price for Painting in Holland. (→ link)

A nice selection for everyone.

I have been interviewed by you once and I know you can ask tricky questions. What is the question I haven’t asked you? And bare in mind that it’s you who has to answer it. No wait … forget that part again…

Tommi: The first time we met, you were proud that you didn’t own a car, so you could spend all your money on art. But now you do own a car. Isn’t that a bit hypocritical? Are you spending less on art now?

Me: Well, when we first met I didn’t have a drivers license either, so easy talking! I own the car to get more experience in driving, and it allows me to go to galleries and museums out of town. So actually it’s much better for my collection. And I haven’t bought less art. I just stopped buying the large number of CDs, DVDs and books I did before …

Tsjalling’s car

So not mp3 is killing the music industry, art is! What would you like me to ask the next collector?

I read that for more accomplished collectors the buying is more important than the actual owning of the artwork. Do you still get the same kick out of owning and enjoying new art? Is the hunt really more important than the catch?

Well, thank you Tsjalling for your time and your stories. I shall now go out and find an “accomplished collector” to get an answer to that question.

Tsjalling Venema is what one would probably call a “young collector”. I guess you’d be able to call him that in twenty years time. I can not imagine his personality to drop that atmosphere of youth just because the earth keeps revolving around the sun. He is from the Netherlands and if you ever get the chance to meet him, do! But beware, his passion and excitement are quite contagious …

Here is part 1 with pictures:
(Text only over at IC: → http://bit.ly/bI9iZ3)

Well, Tsjalling, the two collectors before you have asked two questions. One regarded the situation of which artwork you would put back in the fire to collect insurance money for and Randi asks “Why did you buy your first work of art?”

Which question would you rather answer? And then please tell us why you bought your first artwork, this one is somewhat mandatory …

I guess I’ll have to answer both of them then…

When I was fifteen, I started collecting autographs of famous and less famous artists, because I thought I couldn’t afford buying real artworks. This way I met a local artist [Lode Pemmelaar] who had the same hobby. We became friends and when I ran into one of his (cheaper) silkscreens in a gallery, I bought it. After this I found out that you could find artworks at a reasonable price, so I started buying more and more.

“Untitled” – Lode Pemmelaar

The work I’d leave in my home when on fire is a photo by Wim Bosch. Definitely not because I don’t like it, on the contrary! But it is a work with a large edition and I know I can still buy a new one. I’d leave it because I put a wrong frame on it. I’m friends with the artist now, and he likes his work to be stuck on aluminum without glass in front of it. Not the way I framed it. So maybe this way I could put it right.

The wrong frame.

In the Netherlands, young collectors can get very cheap loans to buy art. What’s up with that? How does that work?

With the KunstKoopRegeling (art buying scheme → link) you can get an interest free loan. This is only in selected galleries though, but most larger galleries participate in it. The government funded Mondriaan Fund pays the interest for you, and you have to make a deposit of only 10 percent. It’s possible to get a lone from 450,- EUR to 7000,- EUR , so also experienced collectors can buy works of art.

Now that’s nice, to allow the experienced collectors to participate as well, isn’t it? Did you ever buy your art on such a loan?

No, I didn’t, because you have to have a fixed contract with your employer and I didn’t have one until a year ago. (This part of the scheme sucks! The strange thing is that you can get a loan if you’re on government benefits or as a student.)

How about a proper “stipend” for collectors? Here is an idea: Why not shift all the arts funds of a country from museums to stipends for collectors? Is that a good idea or a stupid idea? I can’t decide …

First something else: I heard that in Germany you don’t have to pay taxes for art, in The Netherlands you do. It would be a great idea to make buying art tax free, although I am not sure it would really make a difference, because the taxes aren’t that high (6%).

Actually, you do pay taxes on art. Most of it comes in at 7% but, at least as far as I understand it, your Wim Bosch edition for example would clock in at 19%. Why did I bring this up? I don’t even like the topic! And there still lingers the idea of a “stipend for collectors”. I have a hunch it is a bad idea …

Museums are a great way to explore art if you are new to it, they are a feeding ground for “newbies” more than galleries are. They are also a place where artists can present themselves to bigger audiences. Their influence on the general public is very important. Collectors don’t have this influence. They are good for the production of art (read: the artist), but not so for the showing of it, as most work stays “at home”.

Then there’s the question of who you should give these stipends to? Who will buy what art? Sorry to say, most people don’t have a very accomplished taste, they go for things they understand, as you can see for example of the winner of the popular Dutch Artist of the Year election, Ans Markus (→ link) Most people wouldn’t vote for one of my favourite artists, B.C. Epker (→ link) , although his work is owned by more museums. Do you think most people would buy a work by Sol LeWitt or Joseph Beuys? I don’t think so.

So let’s keep those stipends coming to the museums, so the general public will see these artist we collectors care about!

Wow, your last statement made a knot in my brain. I was actually thinking of giving the money to collectors who have already shown that they have taste. But then you would need a jury or something to decide whether you, Tsjalling, qualify or not … this is too complicated. I agree. Let’s give the money to museums. At least then we can complain about them buying boring stuff.

In the second part of the conversation, Tsjalling talks about his “The 100,- EUR Collection” and responds to the question what kind of advice he would give an experienced collector …

Rudolf Reiber had told me about this work even before it existed, way back in late 2008 or early 2009.

We were in his studio, talking about some of his works that include the process of “erasure”, such as “Dark Matter” (all the stars removed from a Thomas Ruff work), “ohne Titel” (the face of a 1 Euro coin sanded down to a smooth surface) and some of his video works.

Then he mentioned his latest project, involving another form of erasure: camouflage. He had researched the exact colours used by the British Air Force in WW2 to camouflage their bombers in different kinds of weather. “Sky”, “Sky Blue” and “Sky Grey” … the series is called “German Skies”. He wanted to have huge metal sheets painted in the reproduced, matte colours. And, if I remember correctly, he was already talking about exhibiting them in Ulm, in the atriums of the new Weishaupt Museum, high up in the air so you could actually compare the camouflage effect of the painted metal against the sky.

He did that exhibition and luckily, he also did an edition of smaller versions (17“), each colour is available three times, sold separately.

There are many reasons why I love this work. For one, because it is such a reduced, featureless and simple shape, yet it builds on something horrific and violent. I grew up in Ulm, which was heavily bombed, and the Museum Weishaupt now fills a gap left by the bombing. Reibers work was appropriately placed. My family (from my mother’s side) were refugees from what is now Poland, having first hand experience of the camouflaged planes. Plus the sky above Ulm very often has the colour of “Sky Grey”, a foggy, greenish, featureless haze.

As if that wasn’t enough, the small versions, hand painted and sanded down by the artist, come with an inbuilt surprise. The surface which is matte and almost completely featureless and not reflecting any light becomes a highly reflective surface when viewed from the appropriate angle.

“German Skies: Sky Grey”, painted metal, 33 x 28 x 1 cm

It’s a mirror in which you will never be able to see yourself. This may not be intended by Rudolf, but for me it exemplifies one purpose art has in my life. It’s a means to see the world from a different perspective, rather than a reflection of myself. At the same time, it’s so closely related to my life that it does that, too.

My wife bought this for me for Christmas. My wishlist included “Sky Grey” by Rudolf Reiber or a telescope. I can understand why Rudolf’s work was picked. It’s smaller, easier to store and it’s considerably less expensive than a good telescope.