Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

This weekend, I went to an art show at a tattoo and graphic design studio called Blackout Creations (the same one Mr. Autopsy promoted).

In a lot of ways, it was the usual ‘Burg opening. There are three things you will always, always see at a St. Pete art show. The first is a crew of grubsters from good homes justifying their misery acts by going straight for the most nihilisitic piece in the room. The second is Heinz in a distractingly hot Euro-God outfit, even though he’s so Jersey it hurts under all that tailoring, and, third is lots and lots of PBR to make the ten-dollar drinks at the Independent taste better. These three things are guaranteed and the contradictions make it fun, because every one in the room is either incredibly fake or impressively self-aware.

The art was really phenomenal, too, with lots of very vivid primary colors. I liked how the knack for tattooing was so evident in the large surface area of the shapes and the heavy outlining. My favorite was called “Tomba Del Amor” and features two skeletons in wedding gear riding a cart out of a tunnel of love. I would have called it “True Love Never Dies.”

Mark got, like, instantly excited by all the popping colors and big lines. He was adorably unaware of his options when he wanted to buy a watch, but when he likes a piece of artwork, he’ll clunk down whatever amount of cash is on the sticker for it. Artists really need a guy who will support both the practical and fantastical sides of the art game, so it’s very cool.

But, then, there was a slight letdown.

“Hey, wait a minute!” he exclaimed, pointing to the corner of the frame. “Are these - prints?”

And, indeed, almost every piece in the gallery was numbered and the show’s literature only listed a few oils. The room was mainly full of giclee.

Now, I didn’t particularly have a problem with this. I think it’s nice to have the occassional show where the artists don’t trump themselves up so much that they can’t actually provide anything anyone realistically will buy. A few original oils priced in the two thousand dollar range and a smattering of watercolors around five-hundred bucks seems perfectly respectable to me when scattered in with more attainable prints for emerging art collectors, but I can see a small problem, too, because a lot of the conversation didn’t seem to recognize that the pieces weren’t originals.

So, I have to wonder, out of the healthy amount of sales I saw at nine-thirty (good for you, guys!), how many people think they bought originals and how many people didn’t even really have the awareness that it makes a difference? Maybe not too many - even when you’re only spending a couple hundred bucks on something that does absolutely nothing besides hang on the wall, you usually know what you’re getting into - and the numbering in the corner did seem like a dead give-away, but, you know, I just hope no one ends up disappointed.

‘Cause, man, Mark seemed real ready to go for something in those first thirty seconds and the art was really, really compelling.

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