An interesting question from a fellow artist…Do you buy art and what do you use to judge whether the work you are buying is worth what you are paying for it?
I do, and as long as I can afford it, I buy what speaks to me. But as a gallery owner, I also know that others don’t always feel they can trust their instincts about art and it’s value. They judge monetary value by the judgement of others. And often, that is the value for an artist being in a gallery. Buyers use gallery representation and prices as a measure of of legitimacy. As if someone else has vetted it first, so it must be good. Judgement via the marketplace. Has it ever really been otherwise in the general population? I think that most people feel inadequate in the face of ART. Don’t understand that if they love it and can afford it…that is all that really counts in the purchase equation. I carry work in the Equis Art Gallery, that I love. The artists set the price based upon what it has been selling for in the marketplace. And I feel strongly that for collectors and art lovers…..buy what you love. Don’t concern yourself over perceived value. Does it touch you? Can you afford to own it? When you fall in love with artwork, the value is that it has touched your heart, your mind and maybe even your soul. And I know it sounds trite, but that is priceless.
“Bodhi in the Sky” was shot on 2 1/4 film. This image is a part of my growing attempt to learn to see square. It may sound odd to those who are not “photographers”, but our “vision” gets completely intertwined with and determined by our technical tools of choice. (No different then an oil painter who envisions work based upon the properties of oil paint) We learn to see images based on the equipment we use. I have been using 35mm film for nearly my whole life. And I tend to crop mostly in camera. Meaning, I usually keep pretty strictly to the shape and image as it comes directly from my camera. So, using a medium format camera is an exercise in learning to see differently. And that, for an artist, is challenging and important in our creative evolution.
February – you may be short, but you have made a long impact on me.
3 years ago – I was told that I had a large lump on my ovary. Sending me in to a tail spin made up of cancer, surgery and chemotherapy.
2 years ago – I invited a group of my equine artist friends to send me work that I could represent and I created the Equis Art Gallery.
1 year ago – I began a crowd funding campaign to help me raise money to eventually move the Equis Art Gallery into a storefront of my own.
This year – I celebrated – with another surgery, needed because of the one before, AND with the optimism to say…….This coming year will be amazing!
“River Bend”. In an effort to explain a bit about the Equiscape series – As I got more involved with photographing horses, I was drawn to lots of local events. To get imagery that I responded to, I started getting closer and closer in. Leaving out the surrounding information and focusing on the details of the horses themselves. This was not so different from what I used to do when photographing buildings in NYCity in the mid-1980’s. I first called the series, Equine Landscapes and Topographicals. At a critique I was told that title was way too unwieldy that I needed to shorten it. Make it more succinct. Thus EQUISCAPE was born. Most of the titles of the works relate somehow to a landscape. At a later critique the wonderful photographer, Keith Carter said to me that he saw them as Modernist Nudes. As sensual in horse as they would be if human. I love both interpretations of the work. – Juliet
(to see more of my work, go to Juliet R. Harrison Photography)
I am not anywhere close to the creative level of someone like Bowie, but I understand intimately, the idea of continuing to create in the face of cancer. To know that there is a very real possibility of very little time left. And a need to know that even with your last moments, you would do what you could to get as much of what was inside waiting to be made manifest….out into the world. To “say” as much as you could before you were gone.