*I originally wrote and published this post in 2013, but the issue still plagues me, and only seems to be getting worse. This time of year, requests for donations are more frequent, and I know many of my artist friends can relate.
There are many blog posts already written about the many reasons for artists to stop donating to benefit art auctions. I recommend this one: http://joannemattera.blogspot.com/2007/06/no-i-will-not-donate-to-your-auction.html
But, there is another aspect of the art auction experience that is harder to explain. I will try. Attending an art auction to which I have donated my artwork is a little bit humiliating. I think if I were an established artist it would be different, as attendees and organizers may treat those artists with some level of respect. But as an emerging artist, it can be very uncomfortable.
I've donated to small and large organizations, and each event has a completely different character, but the dynamic of predominately struggling artists donating items of a very personal nature to be bid on by people with discretionary income is the same every time. Understand first that art is very personal to the artist. It's like taking your dreams and putting them up for everyone to see and bid on.
Sometimes we are not even invited to the event. We are not present to meet potential bidders, discuss our process and techniques, or connect with the collector in any way. The first time I donated to a benefit, that was the case. I donated a $100 gift certificate toward a commission to support a children's museum, even though I couldn't afford a membership for my own child. The winning bidder sent me an anonymous email requesting a piece of work at the $100 value. They did not want me to know their name and requested that I drop off the completed work at the museum so that we wouldn't have to meet in person. That was rather unsettling.
For several years, I donated to the foundation for my alma mater, and I did get to attend the event. They never included background information about the artists so, one year, I approached the high bidder of my artwork to introduce myself. She looked at me like I had just asked what kind of sexual position she prefers and excused herself. I still wonder why she bought the art? And who was she? Artists like to connect with the new owners of their art.
Last year, I donated work of a higher value to a local arts organization. The required opening bid was for the actual retail value of the piece. I still have it. It is disheartening that artists making below minimum wage will donate to a cause, but supporters with solid incomes will usually not match the value. And it feels really crummy to donate your work for charity, and have it not sell. I was at the home of a collector one time who showed me a piece of mine he had acquired at one of these benefits for a fraction of the value. He was very proud, and had no idea that the experience was degrading for me. "Look! I bought this $800 artwork of yours for only $200! Isn't that great?"
And finally, at the higher-end art auctions, such as an art museum, there is a very obvious divide between the haves and have-nots in attendance. I've given my artwork (through a juried process, by the way) to a museum each year for its fundraiser, which is a swanky party with great food and an open bar. Guests wear formal attire and it is common to overhear, "What are you wearing?" in reference to the designer. The donating artists, who can't afford to bring a date, slowly identify each other by the lesser quality of their clothing. Artists and bidders are seated together at tables, but conversation is awkward. "You must be an artist!", someone will say, looking me up and down. Last year, a woman commented, "You are so brave to wear that outfit here," (referring to my secondhand dress and boots). Trying to be funny, I said, "You wait. Next year everyone will be dressed like this." "No," she said. "They won't."
So, I had a nice meal and free booze, and watched my $800 piece sell for $140 and drove home thinking I probably wouldn't donate to any more auctions. The fact is, I can't afford memberships to these organizations or tickets to their events. When I tried to have my jewelry displayed at the museum, I was rejected outright. They didn't even want to see it. During the first few years of donating to auctions, I felt altruistic, but increasingly, I just feel taken advantage of.
|Here's me at an art auction. I do have a drink and a name tag. But, sadly, I am lacking in a companion or social skills.|
I do still donate small items to small, local organizations. They are not targeting artists, exclusively, to provide donations. They generally don't invite me to their events, but their budgets are very low, so I don't expect it. I can give something small and feel ok about it, and I know it helps a little bit.
The blog post I linked to at the beginning does offer some suggestions for changing the yucky relationship between artists and fundraising auctions, and I hope some organizers start paying attention. If I can split the take with the organization, I am more likely to donate something of higher value and feel like I received something for my work. If they put some effort into promoting me and my work by giving bidders a lot of good information and posting a link to my website online, it shows respect, adds some benefit for me, and is more likely to generate higher bids, which is a win/win. Making sure the artists have name tags so that bidders can ask questions makes a huge difference. And treating the artists as if their contribution is at least as valuable as the money being raised is vital. Welcome us and talk to us, introduce us to potential bidders, and for Pete's sake, give us a glass of wine if it's a cash bar and we can't afford it. It's no fun being a socially awkward artist attending an event alone, standing in a corner without a drink and not knowing anyone in the room, waiting for someone to bid on your artwork. A little extra effort might make it a less painful experience.