In the last few months of travel Dan and I have had the good fortune to see some extremely engaging art, from the Turner prizewinners at Tate Britain to the Kienholz Hoerengracht installation at London’s National Gallery, to an intimate showing of one of Anish Kapoor’s untitled Hexagonal Mirrors on view at the Portland Art Museum.

(Don’t anyone ever give me grief again about the time I spend on Facebook! If it hadn’t been for a Facey friend, I’d have missed this Richard Wright beauty that was intentionally destroyed the day after we viewed it.)

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Sorry to have stalled after posting about Dan Klein’s death. It just took the wind out of my sails.

Meanwhile, it’s been pointed out to me that it’s a bit morbid to have an obit on the blog for over a month. And, more to the point, Dan would have thought so too. It’s true – he would have.

Dan cared passionately about our field and worked relentlessly to advance it in the larger art world – whether that world was called craft, decorative arts, applied arts or contemporary art.


Close to Close. ART Santa Fe was a chance to show our artists’ work in a different context. read more

First day setting up for SOFA WEST. Where are we?

When in doubt, read the instructions: “This is not London, this is Santa Fe”.


But the story’s the same: Unpack, touch up paint, debate artwork placement, place art, debate height, re-place art, touch up more paint, run to hardware store, try to pay with credit card, run back to get cash, return to hardware store, get paint roller, repaint pedestals, set more art, adhere signage, store crating, vacuum neighbors peanuts off our carpet…… forget to eat lunch, ache, whine,  squeal with delight (free WiFi access), yabber with other exhibitors…

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Seems like yesterday that we packed up from COLLECT in London. Woke up this morning in Santa Fe. We’re here for SOFA WEST, the newest addition to Mark Lyman’s lineup of always (she writes with great expectations) brilliant expositions of Sculpture, Objects & Functional Art.

It’s 6:30 am. My gallery team is still asleep. For now it’s just me, my laptop and a cup of steaming hot lemon ginger tea.


In a couple of hours we’ll reconnect with our DeWalt drills and start set-up down at the unconventional convention center.

Once the work is done, the artists arrive.  ;-)

For me, for now, it’s just a little morning bliss before the storm.

Just because it looks posh on the outside, doesn’t mean that any Royal Treatment awaits within.


Small children being forced to run endless laps on the track in front of Saatchi’s glam digs should have alerted us  to the drudgery that lay ahead.

And sure enough…much as I utterly ADORE doing  COLLECT  in London, it’s the same old grind when it comes to setting up for this art fair.

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Leaving the bucolic idyll of North Lands, I’m back in London for one drizzly Turner-esque day, a climactic decompression chamber in which to re-orient myself to the less romantic side of Bullseye, before I fly home to the daily challenges of a small business, its piffling aggravations and less than dreamy realities.


An overcast boat ride between the Tate galleries seemed an appropriately lugubrious place to reflect on a variety of attitudes I find particularly annoying in Bullseye’s marketplace.
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As art fairs go, so went COLLECT. Hours of endless chatter punctuated by moments of high hope crumbling into I’m-just-lookings, or I’ve-spent-a-fortune-alreadys, or call-me-when-you’ve-got-another-in-a-cooler/warmer/darker/ lighter-shade.
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I’m going to fast forward. We’re into our third day of the fair and still standing. Despite my incessant kvetching, we managed to get through set-up, get the lights focused, glass cleaned and all the clutter crammed into our tiny stand closet, before dashing back to the flat to change and return in time for Opening Night.

“Can you focus it 2.5 mm to the left and about 1.5mm up, Steve?” Loughlin obsessive? Yet another misunderstood personality.
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Last month I was rudely awakened by the shocking rumor of our corporate-ness.

I’ve been introspecting for the last few weeks, ruminating on this ill-fitting identity . But I do sort of get it. It’s a close cousin of that other curious piece of urban mythology surrounding Bullseye lately: that we’re “elitist”.

Dashing to present our glorious objects at the V & A. We must be just SO cool.
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Factory schmactory. I’m on my way to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London to set up Bullseye’s stand at COLLECT, the international art fair for contemporary objects.

Fifteen hours, three airports and a cultural canyon away from Garlic Gulch.
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