August 9, 2009

By Bill Shafer

$10,000? $20,000? $40,000? $45,000?!?!? Does it even matter at that point? It’s art, so price is arbitrary anyway right? But I digress; let’s talk about something important… like Fangoria. Back before I was old enough to buy porn I bought Fangoria magazine. It was my gateway to the dark underbelly of film at a time when Horror movies truly were the seedy equivalent to a schoolyard trenchcoat molester luring you into his van with popcorn and JuJu Bees. Mad Magazine under one arm, Fangoria under the other, and a fistful of caffeine and sugar, this is what kept me sane.

Years later we added alcohol to the mix and porno became a bored afterthought, but caffeine, sugar, and Fangoria remain staples in my diet. Imagine how psyched I was when Creation Entertainment approached me to curate an art gallery for their upcoming Fangocon at the LA Convention Center. This convention was celebrating Fangoria’s 30th anniversary and Hyaena’s involvement marked the first art gallery featured at Fangocon since the beginning. I signed on immediately and dove headfirst into meetings and planning to make this gallery a standout at the event.

Creation came at me with a list of artists that they wanted me to feature in the gallery. They wanted people like Liz McGrath, H.R. Geiger, Clive Barker, and (for some old school cred) Basil Gogos. I nixed Liz McGrath, Gogos and Geiger immediately, explaining to the boys at Creation that these people weren’t right for what I wanted to do. This was going to represent Hyaena, so I called in my big guns: Cam Rackam, Christopher Ulrich, Ted Von Heiland, Chris Peters, Erick De La Vega, Gris Grimly, Ragnar, Alex Pardee, Jeff Pittarelli, Krys Sapp, Dan Harding, Kevin Klemm, Jeremy Cross, & Rick “Dienzo” Blanco. Clive Barker, however, was definitely someone I wanted to include in the exhibit, someone I’ve wanted to work with for a long time…and thus begins our tale of retardation and shame.

Now I have to state publicly, so Clive’s niece and son don’t think I’m trying to rob them of their inheritance, that I am a huge Clive Barker fan. His writing inspired me to pick up a pen, I think his artwork is incredible, and his movies (up until the never-ending Hellraiser sequels) gave me hope that Hollywood could produce original thought on celluloid. Trying to work with Clive on this project, more specifically trying to work with his “people,” turned out to be an exercise in futility. I’ve even saved the emails to prove it because even I couldn’t believe how lame this all turned out.

On first contact with his assistant, things seemed genuinely promising. I introduced myself, explained what I was doing with Fangocon, and described my concept for the gallery. I wanted to blow this convention crowd away, hit them in the face with an overwhelming array of the most intense Dark Art they’ve ever seen, and show them that not only can Fine Art be accessible to any lifestyle…it can be affordable as well. Barker was on board and, coincidentally, he had just finished a piece of art that was going to be featured on the cover of Fangoria’s 30th anniversary issue. Months of planning were ahead but we were off to an incredible start.

“What could go wrong?” I asked innocently, not taking into consideration that I wasn’t used to dealing with people’s “people.” In working out the details I got bounced around from one assistant to the other. Insurance and sale price became an issue for both the Clive and Hyaena camps. They wanted to list Clive’s art at $10,000 and wanted me to be 100% financially responsible for the piece. I explained that $10,000 was a bit steep for me to personally cover and I doubted we would even be able to sell a $10,000 piece at this convention. In addition, I had no idea what type of space Creation Entertainment was going to provide for the exhibit, or what type of security would be on hand. The whole thing went against my better judgment but I thought the piece would be an important addition to the gallery and I really wanted to work with Clive, so I eventually gave in and told them I would personally guarantee the art.

We were back on track until I touched base with Clive’s camp a few weeks before the convention. Apparently, in the months between our conversations the artwork in question had increased a bit in value, taking its cue from the Jefferson’s and movin’ on up to the neighborhood of $40,000 (that’s $7,000 more than a Ryden 11×10 acrylic painting, folks!). There was no way conceivable that I wanted be responsible for a $40,000 piece of artwork that had a minimal chance of selling in this venue so I told them I had to pass and maybe we would find a way to work together in the future. I realized that what they wanted to do was have the original art in the gallery so they could sell prints of it in their booth at the convention. When I suggested that we do the opposite, that they have the original at the booth and then let me sell the prints at the gallery, they were against that idea because they did not want to insure the piece on their end. Again, I offered an apology that it wasn’t going to work out this time. Clive’s assistant assured me that Clive wanted to be a part of this exhibit and said they would work something out and get back to me.

Like a lesbian with a girlfriend who has horrible hygiene, I waited with baited breath and was rewarded when the assistant told me they found a good solution. What he had for me now was one piece of artwork at only $20,000. I had to tell him again that this wasn’t going to work out. If guaranteeing $10,000 was problematic for me, then I definitely did not want to be responsible for $20,000 in a convention hall where the security was in question. It was here that I accepted the fact that Clive Barker was not going to be in the Fangoria art exhibit.

I arrived at the LA Convention Center the day before the convention and discovered that there were no actual walls upon which to hang the artwork. Undeterred, I got a stack of building materials and, along with the help of several very loyal artists went on to create the most impressive testament to modern engineering that the convention circuit has ever seen… all using grid wall and zip ties. Four hours later, we had the skeleton of an art gallery.

When you are overworked and sweating tears down your round wrinklies, that’s when comedy becomes a medicinal tool. And that’s when I got the phone call from Clive’s assistant. I guess Clive still wanted to be in the exhibit, so as a compromise they were going to bring me a set of three pieces of art… each priced at only $15,000. Now I’m not no math rocket surgeon, but that seems like $45,000 to me. And forgive my ignorance, but isn’t $45,000 more than the $40,000 that was a problem and way more than the $10,000 which was my initial concern?!? I pointed this out to him and then went on to explain the reality of the convention situation…how there was no security guarantee and how we had to construct a structure on which to display the art. I suggested we both accept the fact that Clive was not going to be part of the exhibit and, if we both end up doing the convention again, maybe work towards figuring something out for next year. Would you even want to hang a $15,000 piece of art on a surface made up of grid wall and zip ties? Really? I was done.

The ridiculousness of the situation was further highlighted the next day as the convention started and people began wandering through the gallery space. Clive’s assistant showed up with a $15,000 piece of art at least a foot taller than our wall and asked if I would include it if they covered the insurance. I wish I had taken the time to learn sign language so I wouldn’t have had to vocalize the word “no” again to this man, but I didn’t. So it was with a heavy heart and an odd bewilderment that I denied him once again, for the final time. He said he would come back the next day with a smaller piece. Fortunately he never did come back.

At this point, I don’t know what the real problem was. I’m guessing that either the assistants did not understand anything I had said to them, or maybe they understood but never conveyed that information to Clive or possibly didn’t want to tell him “no” when he told them what he wanted to do. I’m sure the assistant told Clive that I was being unreasonable and that’s fine. The truth is that Clive Barker doesn’t need Hyaena and Hyaena doesn’t really need Clive Barker…we’ll both keep trudging along. Sure, it would have been incredibly cool if we could have worked something out, but oh well.

I never got to meet or even speak to Clive and I’m confident that would have prevented most of this nonsense. Instead I dealt with a team of middle men that made even the simplest of things take 13 more steps than necessary. I speak a great deal about artists alienating their audiences and, whether it’s Clive’s fault or not, I think that this is just one more example of that. It would have made a big impact having Clive exhibited alongside the new crop of Dark Art talent, not for any perceived legitimacy, but because of the show of support it would have represented…an acknowledgment that we’re all doing the Lord’s work here and we’re all in this together.

In the end, the Hyaena exhibit at Fangocon was an overwhelming success. From all accounts it was a highlight of the convention and people were definitely digging it. For some old school credibility, I included my showstopper, a small 5×5 original engraving from the Draftsman of Doom, Albrecht Durer, called “The Monstrous Sow” from 1496. Durer is proof that darker art is nothing new in the Fine Art scene. Recorded accounts describe people. aka primitive screwheads, fainting and becoming ill in front of his work. It was a rare opportunity to see a 500 year old piece of art in anything other than a museum setting, and here we had it hanging right next to one of Rob Burman’s bronze sculptures. It was bad ass, period. All in all, we got some great exposure for some of my favorite artists, we sold quite a few pieces to a very receptive crowd, we featured live painting by the Blood & Oil collective, and I got to meet Fred “The Hammer” Williamson, Boss N**ger himself. Ironically, I have no complaints.

Amen.

Next: Walking on Eggshells

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