Generosity

D.R.: I’ve been thinking a lot about generosity lately. I was listening to Jerry Saltz being interviewed on Pivot and he described galleries as being generous. They’re open to the public, you don’t have to buy anything. I personally experience a low-grade pressure in a place that’s set up exclusively for transactions, but he’s right to a degree. In fact, I had a really great experience at a panel I saw at the small but mighty Sarah Brook Gallery during Frieze. The conversation was between the gallery owner, co-founders of an art collections consultancy, the artist whose spectacular show was mounted, and an art conservator. The discussion was centered around sustainability I think, But honestly, they could have been talking about anything because they were so fantastic.

I felt like I was listening in on five cool older sisters I wish I had. They shared nuggets of occupational insight, their origin stories, their vulnerability, and my personal favorite; their beautiful and unique modes of self-presenting: Star-cut cowboy boots, a dress layered over a purple and green tracksuit, fierce leather black lace-up knee-high boots, sheer periwinkle socks. Serious cool older sister vibes. As they spoke, everyone was so quiet, tuned in with gratitude. I feel very American admitting that by default, I mostly read generosity through the lens of money but lately I’ve been trying to pay attention to the luxury of other modes of generosity. You can be generous with time and your experience.

T.I.: I think it’s awesome that an event like the Sarah Brooks talk happened, especially during Frieze week - -a most exclusionary (both financially and socially) event. And to make the case that there’s generosity in the sharing of ideas and of self.

It’s hard to break away from the lens of money. Anything that we find valuable and that’s given to us free is inherently a generous give. But if you look at ‘free’ i.e. no admission fee institutions, like The Broad, on the surface they appear generous, but actually have ulterior motivations. Like a tax break! But they disguise themselves as generous. The same for galleries, I think. The ‘free’ is just a modus operandi that sort of is included in operating costs. It’s built to create word of mouth and hype. The free shows are about provenance for the piece and a resume bullet for the artists, which in turns creates value for the company. Works are desirable by virtue of other’s envy. It’s also a place for the works to be look at, desired, envied.

And what about the ‘non-ulterior’ generosity? I don’t think I can say authentic here.. Jake Arnold’s Crate and Barrel collaboration, among the design world / those in the know, the collection was a form of design plagiarism. But in a sense it’s generous of him to bring French design to the masses, at a semi-affordable price. And his intentions (and Crates) are, by virtue of their businesses, to make money. There’s no front and how actually fantastic of him to elevate the authentic vintages, pass along the creative spirit of those makers, and share it with an audience of people who might not know about it.

D.R. Yes, vintage for all! Bit of a shame we can only get folks excited about the past by reiterating in a corporate framework. All the early modernists, they were idealists, believing mass production would democratize. The average person could have a beautiful functional chair that didn’t cost a lot. But things have been a little out of control for a while now…

Maybe a deeper question is, do we have to necessarily buy the lamp to appreciate the design? Is status-signaling the only real driver to owning beauty? What does it mean to own something versus encounter something - and - are they both as satiating? I have to say, my habit of saving photos/clippings feels connected to my desire to own, collect. But ultimately I get most excited when I’m not collecting stuff, but ideas, somehow they end up conflated. It’s funny to we started talking about generosity - and it bent around to this.

T.I.: You and I don’t have to buy the lamp. But we’re a select few, and the system has become so ungainly because you and I are the minority. But society is greedy - we’re capitalists and consumers! It’s hard to tell if it’s part of human nature or what’s become ingrained in us living in the most consumer-centric time and society on earth. Social media has become a giant status-signaling, and life is now performative. Even escapism and rebellion is a great performance. If we didn’t photograph it, did it happen? Proof that encountering something is not enough, we want to devour the things others desire. This conversation has proved just how inescapable that very concept is. We’re fixated on this idea and the tension between ideological generosity and patronage generosity because we’re soooo enmeshed in it, and confronted with it, and unable to separate ourselves. Look at our jobs - designers are some of the greatest salespeople on Earth, (talk about gatekeeping) and I exist in a playground purely for the discretionary, non-essential spending of the 1% of consumers. No hate on us for being the ones to push this kind of ‘patronage’ but we have to recognize that we’re in this ecosystem, and how do we grapple?

Back to the modernists you brought up - a great example of the tensions in this conversation. The modernists, not talking about the technological or socio-political elements behind their work, were driven to the idea of democracy because what was considered ‘design’ was for the uppers. Particularly looking at beauty existing alongside function - that’s historically a very privileged space to be in. Modernists changed the idea of what beauty was, and made it attainable to all. What was only for the upper-class. I don’t think you were wrong about the conflation of objects and ideas. I think the conclusion IS that they’re conflated. It’s the irony that now the ultimate status is owning a piece that spurred a movement spreading an idea with the masses made everything, The Prouve chair is an embodiment of the idea that furniture is democratic. In owning that piece, those people invariably (feel they) own the idea. Now it’s about owning the very idea, that made everything for all the masses become palatable.

We didn’t buy the lamp, but we drank the Kool-Aid.