Size matters. Size matters because your work has to be housed somewhere: on a library shelf, in a vault, in a glass case. If it's a book we want to represent, size matters because we have to transport it to the collectors. Our mini-van is roomy, but not inexhaustible. We use rolling cases to get the work from wherever we have to park to the library or conference room. You and your creation project will determine how large, how heavy, how wieldy the final work is. Just realize that somehow it will ultimately have to be transported from your studio.
Librarians change. And that means collecting policies and tastes change. "We don't collect your sort of books" can become "We didn't use to collect your sort of books."
Pricing is a crapshoot. At Vamp & Tramp, the artist/press always has the final say on price. We will give our opinion, especially when asked. At present, we carry work with prices that range from $10 to over $8000. We like the variety, because it lets us promote book arts to all kinds of people. Obviously, as the price rises, the pool of potential buyers diminishes. You can read volumes with theories of the psychology of pricing. Are there price barriers? $100? $500? $1000? $2000. Will something that sells at $950 be impossible to sell at $1000? Frankly, that doesn't interest me. But it does make sense to me to acknowledge that all of our customers have financial limits. And it does make sense to me that beginning book artists should consider underpricing their work. If you have a business, you would realistically expect to spend years building that business up. A beginning book artist's first priority, I think, should be to get her work into the world, into worthy collections. I'm not suggesting you give your work away, but I would advise making sure you're not stalling your career for the wrong reasons.
To Edition or Not: A few collections absolutely will not consider one-of-a-kind works. A slightly larger number of collections say they won't consider one-of-a-kind works. A still slightly greater number say they rarely consider one-of-a-kinds. We don't know of any who won't consider editioned work. (N. B. We've asked several of the hardliners how many it takes to make an edition. The consensus? Two.)
What sells? Almost every thing has a chance, but not everything gets our commitment. In the talk I mentioned above, Mark Dimunation cites three attributes that "shape" his reaction to a work: Transparency, Quality, and Integrity. These attributes make sense to me, and so I'm going to borrow them here, embroidered with my own comments.
Transparency: The term may be a bit misleading, but not the concept. If comes down to this: Do I have "a sense that if [I am] willing to explore, ask questions, read and re-read, that [I] will achieve an understanding of the work"? The success of your work with me depends in part on me. And you had nothing to do with the predilections I have. Even so, you can help me get to where I need to be by providing hints, clues, and suggestions. I'm not asking for a roadmap, or obviousness. But if I can't breach the walls you've thrown, I'm likely to tip my hat to your superiority and move on to the next battle.
Quality: Mark Dimunation cites Victor Hammer: "Be honest to your work and do it well." Your choices in creating the work determine what you have to do, but whatever that is, there is no excuse for not doing it well. Except in rare cases, shoddy work seems to me indefensible.
Integrity: Probably the most important aspect for me. Dimunation cites translator and bookbinder Zahra Partovi, who told him that "every action, every atom that goes into the book goes toward its art — and if it does not, she takes it away." The work has integrity. The parts work toward something, perhaps ineffable, but no less vital and true. Creation may be mysterious, but in the books I like, it isn't willy-nilly.
One final note that will take us a bit off topic. Even if from this instant there were never another fine press or artists' book bought or sold, I have no doubt that book printers and artists would continue to produce wow work — because it's their nature. What concerns me the other side of that question: How do we cultivate new customers who might sustain these artists? Here I mean sustain in the sense of feeling connected, feeling appreciated, feeling validated by financial recognition — finding someone cares enough to pay for what I do. It would be nice if people could make a living as printers/artists, but in our world at this time for most that's just a pipedream. In spite of the niche Vamp & Tramp finds itself it, we realize that depending on a limited number of institutions is not the answer. I think we have to preach and show and educate and preach some more — and preach not only to the choir, not only to the already converted. The type of work we represent is not for everyone. But if Vicky and I had a wooden nickel for everyone we've heard gasp, "Good lord, I didn't know this stuff existed," we could start a bonfire that might bring light to those that can say – as I did – wow, just wow.
