Wayne Michael Reich

Writing ∙ Photography ∙ Art


Month: October 2009

Thank God it’s Friday! (Parts One and Two)

Originally published in 2008 on (remember this?) MySpace, from here on in, it will be all new content. I just really like these two.


“It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times? You stupid monkey!”
-Montgomery Burns to a Dickensesque writing monkey.

Hello Loyal Blogiteers!

I have been one busy little reaper.

Besides my new work schedule, I’m prepping for a group show in July and enjoying the buzz about how the “Ryan” film premier went over in Las Vegas at the Cinevegas film festival.

So, how did it go? Well….Here’s a review of the film from Variety:

Link: http://variety.com/2008/film/reviews/hi-my-name-is-ryan-1200508923/


Hi My Name Is Ryan (Documentary)By EDDIE COCKRELL

“The concept of art as therapy is severely tested in “Hi My Name Is Ryan,” an endurance-challenging profile of Arizona-based performer and devout Mormon Ryan Avery. Helmers Paul Eagleston and Stephen Rose are clearly enamored with this unrelentingly chipper diamond in the rough, and the pic maintains a mercifully snappy pace.                                                                                                           

But while it has appeal for scenester fans of outsider art, few other outlets will bite beyond tolerant fests and an adoring Phoenix fan base.”I like to stay busy,” says the young-adult multihyphenate, whose hypopituitarism gives him the cherubic countenance of precocious adolescence. “I like to make people happy.”
There’s little denying the former: From thrash metal to acappella, Avery makes u in pdiversity of media what he lacks in discernible talent. As for making people happy, that’s a judgment call. Avery is painfully self-absorbed, saddled with issues involving his neglectful father and physical appearance, and his onstage plea to “try and find a positive in everything” comes across as disingenuous. Revered by some local artists, loathed by others, he seems living proof that the urge and means to express oneself do not a performer make.”

See Ryan? It’s not just me.                                                                                                                          

Now for the interesting news? The filmmakers informed me that one of the numerous comments received was they needed “more Wayne” in the movie, which honestly comes as a shock to me- I always assumed I was best in small doses, like salt, butter, or arsenic.

Nice to be wrong.

I was also told that I did receive a plethora of hisses/groans/boos from the assorted fans and family of Ryan…. all twelve of them.

Or maybe it was just six…they are a chubby bunch.                                                                                   

I kid, of course. Because I love. However, the first so called “reviews” regarding my inclusion in the documentary are out- and they ache for yours truly.

From: efilmcritic.com [Link no longer current as of 2017]             

“Despite being an inspiration to those around him on hubris and stamina alone, one local artist sees him as a personal offense to all things artistic and candidly dishes it out like the old man neighbor tired of seeing that ball come over to his yard. This Wayne Michael Reich provides a unique counterpoint to the protagonist that’s impossible not to root on when sitting on this side of the screen.

In reality, going in cold on one of Ryan’s performances would likely inspire raised eyebrows and queried walkouts. But by meeting him first, Reich becomes this film’s Billy Mitchell, an egotistical unknown who, in probably less than ten minutes of actual screen time, manages to display the same amount of douchebaggery as The King of Kong’s antagonist”

And yet another pearl from: http://filmthreat.com/uncategorized/hi-my-name-is-ryan/

“Adorned in various helmets, t-shirts far too tight for his portly frame and/or fake mustaches, Ryan often finds himself in the position of being too out there for even other artists, particularly a man by the name of Wayne Michael Reich, who finds Ryan’s various performances to be not only un-professional, but also talent-less.

This leads to some hypocritical hilarity, as serious artist Wayne is juxtaposed with a more fun-loving Ryan, embodying the anarchic spirit of the fringe artist while Wayne does his best elitist prick impersonation.

To Wayne’s credit, he does make a few valid points about respect between artists and perfecting your craft that makes hearing his perspective important.”


The opinion of two internet critics whom I don’t know, like, respect, fear, or more importantly- have ever heard of- nor has anyone else for that matter, but I digress.

So as you can imagine, I will give them all the attention they deserve.

Right after I organize my sock drawer. And alphabetize my midget clown porn collection.

But not before I give you, my loyal Blogiteers, a special present: Hate Mail! These genuine nuggets of brilliance come to you courtesy of one Mr. Michael Mooser, who felt compelled to write me not once, not twice, but thrice.


Because he has an opinion, gosh darn it! So. I’m letting him be heard- with all the bad spelling, grammar, syntax, context and juvenile insults and improper capitalization of his emails left untouched.

For your pleasure- Mr Mooser can also be contacted at his email; mdmooser@gmail.com

Please email him an “Angel Hugs” card for me- he seems like he could use one.

Or send him a web dictionary link- he definitely needs one of those as well.

Or maybe you could become e-pals, as he seems really lonely.


“you are pompous and p.s. you work is commercial as hell and sucks, YOU ARE NOT AN ARTIST. Artisic Photographer, kiss my A _ _.”


– Let’s see…Pompous? It’s called talent- I can see why it confuses and enrages you.

– The word “You” should be capitalized.

– My work is commercial- that’s why it’s successful. Common misconception, I know.

– It’s actually spelled “Artistic”, but perhaps you’re Autistic- which would explain your grammar.

– Kiss my A_ _? You actually don’t know how to spell “ass”?

Wow. You’re not exactly bright, are ya?


Pompous conceited self centered, self defining asshole, I am an artist. Not defined by myself and it is the first time in my 55 years I take the time to say so of myself, my work in the Whitney, Museum of modern art and much more, I accidentally hit your site and you are not an artist if only defined by you and any schmuck that would like your boring middle of the road copied commercial styles of art from others. Asshole that you are take some art lessons and listen instead of being so full of your self defining glory. i WHO THE FUCK AM I ? NOT YOU!!!!! YOU ARE BULLSHIT, GET A LIFE INSTEAD OF TELLING OTHERS YOU ARE SO ARTISTIC, DILL WEED. ART IS NOT TELLING OTHERS YOU ARE AN ARTISTIC PHOTOGRAPHER DUMBASS, IF YOU ARE, OTHERS DEFINE IT FOR YOU.



You sir, are truly the master of the raving, ranting psycho paragraph- I tip my hat to you.

My giant magic hat made of dreams and fairy dust. However, I do have a few points to touch on:You’re 55 years old? Hmm.

Your writing style suggests that you are actually:

– A pissed off 14 year old- one of Ryan’s fans, perhaps?

– Someone who really loves the “caps lock” key on his Mommy’s laptop.

– A Nigerian scam artist who is barely familiar with the English language
– Or a drunken immigrant from Siberia.

Wait a minute- is this Yakoff Smirnoff?


Sorry- my bad. And as for your claims of your own self importance- you score way light on the “Google”, pal. It’s also somewhat odd that a 55 year old man would use the phrases “dill weed, dumbass, schmuck and jerk” to insult me. Why not just curse me out?

Don’t know any of the dirty words?
By the way- how does one “accidentally” come across my web site unless you are trying to find it?

If I’m such an awful artist and you’re so well established- it seems odd you would get this worked up for a little old nothing like me. I did get into a flame war with NYC artist Mark Kostabi once- but in all fairness, I goaded him into it. Oh, and there was the one time- art provocateur Jeff Koons himself almost spit on me, but I think that was just my fault for standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Andy Warhol however- totally hated me.
Or so I”ve heard.

From…. somebody, of course. Famous people usually don’t froth at the mouth over (as you put it) “imposters” like me, unless you’re lying.

Is that it? I think so.


“Who am I? Not your pitiful excuse for a life, your an artist?

I’m GOD, dickhead, got it, you don’t define yourself…………………… ASSHOLE”



Was someone never the Prom Queen? Still hurting, princess? In time, you’ll get over it.
Just like I did.

Shame- I looked awesome in that dress. And when I’m I ever going to be able to wear a tiara casually? Oh, and as for you being “GOD”- I’ve had 3 near death experiences, and the Big Guy actually looks like Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees.

Excellent hair.
Awesome jumpsuit.
Smells like cookies.
Just like you’d expect.

Thanks for signing off as “asshole”- it’s nice when people embrace who they really are.

————————————————————————————————————————So on the up side, I am thrilled- I have bad reviews, hate mail and yesterday, someone I didn’t know called me “The Art bitch”.I apparently make an excellent Villain- who knew? Boys and Girls- I have arrived. They hate me, they really really hate me!


So to further my evil empire, I’m already picking out my female henchmen- auditions are on Tuesday, so bring a head shot and wear something skimpy. Go-Go Boots optional.

Now at the moment, the star of said documentary [Ryan Avery] has been away on a two year Mormon Mission and will not be f****ng up the PHX Art Scene for at least two more months. 

Thank God. It’s been so nice not having to deal with the full load of mediocrity lately. So, as you may have surmised by the sentence above, this is eventually going to be a blog about: The Phoenix Art “Scene” aka First Friday, and my issues with it.

Lucky you. But what exactly is First Friday?

Well kids, here’s the official description: “First Friday is dedicated to bringing together artists, the public, and businesses for a greater understanding, appreciation, and promotion of the arts and the development of a strong and vital downtown Phoenix arts community.”

Sounds nice, doesn’t it? It isn’t.

On any typical FF, the streets of Downtown Phoenix are full of: drunken idiots, lousy DJ’s, [The exception being DJ Gentrification- you rock, Alex.] untalented street musicians, amateur art critics, hipsters, scenesters, yuppies and until recently- street vendors selling everything from kitschy craft projects to homemade jewelry. In essence, it’s like attending a third rate craft fair, except without corn dogs and one of those cool inflatable moon jump thingamajigs.

So- Welcome to Phoenix!

Our art scene sucks like a Catholic priest at a Boy Scout Jamboree.

To further illuminate my point, I present a personal experience I had on First Friday, a few months ago: I was at a crappy little wannabe art gallery along Roosevelt Street, which was badly lit, poorly maintained, and had thumb tacks, sticky poster putty, and God help me- “heavy duty” blue painters tape attaching the so called “art” to the walls.

Now- I know what you’re asking. Is this type of low tech presentation considered;

– Hip?
– Daring?
– Edgy?
– Trailblazing?

Nope- afraid not.However- the so called “Scenesters” that rot our art scene from the inside out  apparently find this sort of half ass presentation perfectly acceptable. Besides…It’s not like they’re actually going to buy anything.

But it’s cool, Big Daddy. Because success is so unhip, you know? Now don’t think I’m being cynical just for the heck of it, gosh no- at my core, I am a people person.

Full of warmth.

The milk of human kindness.

A cuddly wuddly teddy bear.

No matter what those thin skinned candy ass poseurs say.

You know who (and more importantly, what) you are.

Yes, apparently I am the Artbitch, and since this has been eating at me for so long, I’ve had time to compile a list of unique suggestions for the three groups (Patrons, Galleries and Artists) that comprise our “scene”, and by doing so- hopefully start sowing the seeds of change.

Or more likely- just tick a lot of people off. I seem to have a knack for that sort of thing lately. A God given talent, as it were. Oh well.

Love me or hate me- at least you’re still thinking about me, right?

I thought so.

So let’s start burning some metaphorical bridges, and break out the marshmallows- we’re making artistic s’mores! And speaking of s’mores, you might want to grab a snack and a drink, since this is going to be a long one. Sorry, I was on a roll. That must be why there’s butter on my pants!

[Cricket noises, a lone tumbleweed rolls by.]

No one?

Not even a polite chuckle?


Oh well. Everybody ready? Cool. Let’s snark.

But first, go get that snack, I’m serious- and when you come back, we’ll start.

PATRONS. (Somewhere, a village is missing all of its idiots.)

The description of a Patron is as follows: “A person who is a customer, client, or paying guest, esp. a regular one, of a store, hotel, etc.- A person who supports with money, gifts, efforts, or endorsement an artist, writer, museum, cause, charity, institution, special event- a patron of the arts.”

Now by that definition, a Patron sounds like a sure bet- except that in our art scene, our so called Patrons really don’t do a damn thing for the arts. Oh, don’t get me wrong, we do have a few among the great lemming mass who do buy art, are respectful of the artists and the work they do- but in all honesty?

Most of the several thousand that turn out for FF are essentially just useless scenesters smoking cigarettes, swilling beer and occasionally gumming up the works. Along with all of those wonderful traits, most artists also have to listen to their highly underdeveloped critical reviews, with such shining nuggets as:

“That sucks, I could do that.” [Yet they never do.]

– “$500 Bucks for that? I don’t think so.” [For Art that retails for $1500.00 in LA.]

– “They don’t sell beer here- this place sucks.”

– “They won’t let us smoke here- this place sucks.”

– “Would you take $50.00?” [For an artwork priced at $250.00, mind you.]

Now believe it or not- I don’t really hold much against these NASCAR rejects, as it really isn’t their fault they’re poor dumb things. I blame their parents for feeding them lead paint chips when they were kids. And then dropping them on their heads. After locking them inside a car in the middle of Summer.

So how can I, [a.k.a: the milk of human kindness] help them walk the correct path? By giving them some simple rules & guidelines they can follow.

You’re right… I might be placing too much faith in believing these people can read.

I’ll make up a set of flash cards as well.

Just in case.

Ready, my FF lemmings?

I’m sorry… what?

Yes…I would appreciate it if you’d put down your beer.


{End of Part One} 

Thank God it’s Friday (Part Two)

Cool- you came back!

I am so touched.

Where were we? Ahh. Yes. Patrons.

So, my Patrons, here is your listing of the WMR rules and guidelines.

1) Unless you’re an artist I respect, save the art critique.

– If you’re not going to buy it, don’t waste my time by telling me how much you do or don’t like it. Your opinion, whether it’s positive or negative, doesn’t get my electric bill paid, and I don’t really need the ego stroke anymore, as I’ve been doing this a long time.

I also don’t care if you once took an art course in community college, or if you have a relative who’s “artsy.” Your friends say you’re “creative”? They’re lying. Just like when they say that outfit doesn’t make you look fat.

Also- please do not use the phrase “I could do that.” No you can’t- because if you could- you would, and you don’t. And since your daily job duties still require you to wear a name tag and a hair net, listening to any art suggestions from you are a waste of my energy.

2) I don’t care to hear what you think about my models.

At almost every show featuring my photos of nudes / fetish / figure studies, there’s always at least one guy that is just compelled to do one of three things, which are as follows:

– He critiques my models bodies. Unless you have the body of a bronzed Greek God, you don’t get to call my models anything other than what they are: art. Besides- I’m not going to let someone who can’t see his own d*** because of his gut, call one of my models “fat” just because she isn’t some 98lb stripper with fake tits. I photograph real women, you waddling wads of lard- deal with it.

– He asks if I “boink” my models. No jackass, I don’t. But if I did, why the f**k would I tell you? It’s considered highly unprofessional, highly unethical, and totally creepy to use your work as an excuse to get laid. And while I have “boinked” a model or two in my time, it wasn’t during a photo session- sorry if that kills it for you.

Now, despite what cable TV shows you every Saturday night around 2a.m, a photo session is actually work, it’s not naughty, and it usually doesn’t involve bad Jazz music, dry ice and a Jacuzzi full of champagne- Skinamax and HBO have been lying to you.I’m very sorry that you had to hear it from me. Now go home and watch your Pam Anderson DVDs- you’ll feel so much better.

– He lets me know what he would “do” to my models, if he was in my place. The following is a “to do” list of sorts that has been said to me at my shows, by widely varying gaggles of man boys, usually with hand gestures, and sadly- more than once.

According to these idiots, they would: “Do the backseat mambo, bash the beaver, do the bone dance, bump uglies, butter the muffin, visit the carnal carnival, churn the butter, clear the pipes, crash the custard truck, dip the chip, drive the bobsled, dip the wick, do some dirty work at the crossroads, do the Mommy-Daddy dance, feed the kitty, get the leather stretched, get out the nutcracker, get the oil changed, give the dog a bone, glaze the donuts, grind the tool, growl at the badger, hop on the good foot and do the bad thing, have a hot dog in a jungle, hide the salami, lay some pipe, make a cream doughnut, mix the baby batter, park the beef bus in tuna town, park the pink Plymouth in the garage of love, part the Pink Sea, pass the gravy, play pickle-me, tickle-me, put a snake in the grass, put sour cream in the burrito, put the candle in the pumpkin, ride the baloney pony, ring her bell, rock the Casbah, sauce the clam, shake a skin coat, smack the sheets, shuck the oyster, sink the soldier, spank the cat, stab the trout, storm the pearly gates with a purple-headed devil, get her to suck the sugar-stick, swipe the V-card, take a belly-ride, take “old one-eye” to the optometrist, tap that ass, varnish the cane, and whitewash the fence.”

What a delightful list. I can’t begin to tell you how much I enjoy hearing all the different versions of this…again and again. So to nip any further vulgarities in the bud, I will tell all the man boys who are reading this some knowledge I’ve been keeping secret all this time. Someone who looks like that will NEVER touch, look at, or even acknowledge your presence.

Ever. Not going to happen. Even if a ton of alcohol and chloroform is involved. Surprisingly, most 20 year old women don’t like to date 45 year old horn-dog man boys who are trying to cover up their baldness with a ball cap, their gut with a hockey jersey, and their tiny little dick with loose shorts.

And while the Diamondback flip flops do add a sweet touch to your ensemble- they are, in actuality- a deal breaker. Now, unless you have a lot of disposable cash and 24/7 access to Brad Pitt, you’re not taking one of my models home.

So buy a picture- it’s as close as you’re ever going to get.

3) Guess what? I’m not f***ing Kmart.

Yes, that is the price- that’s why it’s printed on that little card there, along with all my layaway options so you can buy it over several months. Unless you see a flashing blue light attached to my ass, odds are good you aren’t getting a discount, especially when your “gracious offer” is less than my production cost.

Don’t try to tell me that selling my work to you at cost will give me “exposure”- if you can’t afford my work, odds are that you don’t have the juice that can “help” my career. You’re poor? Not my f***ing problem. Go buy a poster at Kmart- you know, the same place where you got those sexy shorts and matching sandals?

Then do us all a favor and please shut the f**k up.
Now on to the next group worthy of wrath: Galleries.

Galleries. (You suck donkey, and yes- I DO mean you.)

“A large room or building used for photography, target practice- a shooting gallery- A room, series of rooms, or building devoted to the exhibition of works of art.”

Artists need Galleries. Galleries need Artists. It’s a very symbiotic relationship, much like a shark and one of those sucker head fish things… it’s called a Remora?

Thanks, Aquaman! Truly appreciated.

Now back to my narrative.

A concrete truth of existence is that without Galleries, there really wouldn’t be much of a reason to show your work- and obviously, without us creative types; there would be no point in having a space, as you’d have nothing to show. It’s a vicious circle, I know.

However- it does work 95% of the time. Just not here. And by “here”- I mean Downtown Phoenix.

Now, there a few spaces that do “get it”, but not many. And mainly to protect certain aspects of my career- I won’t name them.

This Artbitch still needs to eat, you know. Besides- I’m sure they’ve got plenty of “space” to store all their issues, and they know who they are. So, my Galleries, here is your listing of the WMR rules and guidelines.

1) Clean the f*****g place up.

– Now this would seem like a no brainer- but it’s apparently not. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve walked into an art space and have wanted a HazMat suit. Filthy floors, filthy walls, and lets not even think about the bathroom- if they have one, that is. I once dropped my car keys in an abattoir as described above, and actually gave serious thought to just leaving them there- mainly since they were stuck to the floor already.

It was kind of like an adult theater, but without the entertainment factor.

Are you aware that are some wonderful inventions that you can purchase to assist your quest for cleanliness? One’s called a broom, another is Formula 409, and there’s these wacky things called trash bags- they’re crazy, man! Check them out.

And while you do that, I’m going to take a flea dip.

2) Location, Location, Location.

– Shocking as it may seem, being located next to a shelter/ halfway house/ crack alley/ biker bar may not be good for selling art. Serious art buyers (IE: Scottsdalians, white and uptight) tend to be afraid of walking through waves of transients, hookers, crackheads, crazy ass drunks and the like. Also- if you’re at the end of a long scary unlit alley, they aren’t coming either. Now, before you start whining about how this space is all you can afford, my advice is this: SAVE UP AND MOVE TO SOMEPLACE ATTRACTIVE!

Even if it’s smaller. Don’t like my suggestion?


Want to be in business? Then you need to be located where people feel safe.

That’s the way it is- fair or not.

3) Failure in presentation is not an option.

– I loathe walking into any gallery/art space and seeing lazy ass presentation. By this, I mean having to see art hung on the walls with thumb tacks, sticky tabs, and scotch tape. It’s doubly irritating when you see remnants of damage (nail holes, tape residue) from previous shows still visible on the walls.

My quick fixes are as follows: buy a hanging system, whether it is cable or rod based- it will save your walls from damage, secure your art safely, and allow lightning fast adjustments if necessary.

If you can’t afford a commercial system, buy a few dozen feet of chain, some sturdy screw eyes, some “s” hooks and make your own. I once outfitted a 1500 sq. ft. gallery for about $200.00, so it can be done cheap while giving your space a cool industrial look. Thumb tacks, sticky tabs, and scotch tape are not a professional hanging system unless your gallery specializes in children’s art.

If that’s the case, I would suggest you go buy some cheap refrigerator doors and hang the work on them instead. You say you prefer a nail based system? That’s fine too- just patch the holes when you break down the show and give the walls a fresh coat of color. Cheap paint costs $15.00 a gallon, and spackle is about 3 bucks, so no more excuses, ok?

Two tools. One’s called a level; the other is a tape measure. Try using them when you hang the art next time, and then it won’t look like it’s been hung by a blind drunk. End result?If the walls look nice, then the work looks better.

And it just might sell.

4) Be open more than two nights a month.

I am sympathetic to the fact that many Gallery owners work two jobs to pay for their spaces, but I also know that if you want to be successful- you have to be available for the commoners. This translates to being open at least on the weekends, when the crowds are downtown.

Examples? PHiX, The Firehouse, The Paper Heart (now sadly defunct), Modified Arts, and as much as I loathe the place- The Trunk Space. JRC is a jerk- but he hustles. That’s how shit gets done.

And I will give props on that, even if it dings my ego a tad. A tiny, tiny tad, mind you.

Would you like to make money too? Then get your ass in gear and openly network with other Galleries and organize to be open on a set schedule that you all can stick to. Work together, not against. Make it a viable scene with excellent presentation and art, and they will come.

And if you don’t have the budget to run an art gallery the way it should be, maybe this line of work is not for you. I admire your passion for wanting to build the scene, but if you aren’t moving art and making a profit, you aren’t helping us or yourself. At day’s end- this is a business, not a hobby.

Suck up your pride and acknowledge it. But all is not lost for you- If you’re not good at business, find someone who is, and let them handle the details, while you deal with the Artists. You’ll be happier, and money could be made, thereby creating an art scene that’s proud and strong. 

It is that simple, believe it or not.

Artists. (How have you survived this long without being eaten?)

“One, such as a painter, sculptor, or writer, who is able by virtue of imagination and talent or skill to create works of aesthetic value, especially in the fine arts.- A person whose work shows exceptional creative ability or skill: You are an artist in the kitchen.”

I am finally among my fellow tribesmen- the creatives. Oh joy. What a delightful place to be. I have just one simple request: could you please stop making crappy art? And before you get your paint tubes in a twist, I’m not talking about the type of art, ok? So don’t start giving me that Artist ego crap about abstract vs. realism vs. sculpture vs. dance vs. blah, blah, blah.

I’m talking about the quality, presentation and professionalism of the art you create.These concepts as a whole seem to be very tough for most PHX artists to digest. So, my Artists, here is your listing of the WMR rules and guidelines.

1) Quality IS job one.

– If you’re going to take the time to create art, bring your “A” game- it’s better to have one dynamite piece of art then 4 mediocre ones. Cheap materials begets cheap work- unless that’s your artistic hook, don’t skimp- if you want repeat buyers, your work needs to last longer than 3 months.(This obviously doesn’t apply to collage / found material artists.)

Stop stealing other artist’s work and calling it an “homage”- come up with your own ideas. Warhol, Man Ray, Pollock and Mondrian did it all before you- and they did it better.

Know your politics before you make political art- if you can’t defend it, don’t create it. Also, I’m sick and tired of hearing you bitch about George Bush Jr.- yes, he’s evil, he’s dumb, he’s blah, blah, blah- we get it already.

2) Presentation- try it, you’ll like it.

– If you’re displaying prints of your work, be it painting, illustrations or photos- suck it up and get them professionally printed- color copies from Kinko’s look like crap, and the serious buyers you want DO know the difference. Use these wacky inventions called “frames” to show off your work- hanging your art with any thing other than professional materials makes your work look unprofessional and childish, plus- it also forces potential buyers to have to do one more extra step, which they hate.

Make it as easy as possible for someone to buy your work.Can’t afford frames? Come back when you can play with the big boys- step up or step off.

Title cards should be printed- not handwritten, and should list the title, size, media and price of the piece of art it represents, as well as contact info for the artist. Amazingly,buyers find this sort of thing helpful. Clean smudges and fingerprints off the glass if your work is already framed, and make sure the art is hung level.

3) Professionalism is never done half ass.

When you’re at a show, impress your friends later- you’re there to work, not socialize, so get out of the corner and press the flesh*.

[*This rule is void however, if you’re trying to pick up that smoking hot Asian chick with the old ‘I’m an Artist” routine- then feel free to take a few minutes out of the old meet and greet.]

If a potential buyer asks if the price will be lower on your art after the show comes down, the answer is NO. By cutting the Gallery out of the sale, you most likely will terminate any chances of future shows if word gets around that you sell out the backdoor. You are there because the Gallery asked you- be respectful, as it’s not your space to trash.

Don’t discount- if they’re too poor to buy your art, it’s their f*****g problem- not yours.

You set a price, stick to it.

Don’t ever get drunk at your own show. Do I really need to explain why?

If you’re in a group show, don’t trash talk the other Artists- talk about their work as well as your own to potential buyers. This helps to create professional friendships of the best caliber, and can lead to more opportunities.

Be approachable: razors, combs and soap can all easily be purchased at many fine local stores, please use them to their best advantage..

If they [the public] don’t like your work, don’t get bent out of shape, and don’t engage in petty sniping. The success of a show depends on you, not the Gallery- if it tanks, take it on the chin and regroup. Don’t burn your bridges just because you’re having a diva moment.

Business cards- get them, use them. Network whenever possible and acceptable, talk about your work with passion and clarity. Enthusiasm breeds interest.

Stop whining.

Start working.

Step up.

Thus ends the recitation of the rules. Wow. I feel so much better. My bud Renee was right- this IS cheaper than therapy! And ever so much more fun.

Well for me, at least. Good Night Phoenix.

[Public Information]

Complaints about this blog, Wayne’s attitude, or what you believe the quality of Wayne’s work actually is can all be sent to: mdmooser@gmail.com Wayne’s newest and bestest buddy.

Feel free to contact Michael and say hello.

Seriously… he needs some friends.