Yeah, but is it art?

I have been making art off and on for most of my life—seriously for the past 15 years. It's not how I make a living, nor have I ever attempted to do so. It was strictly a hobby for years, and I have only recently begun to answer the question, "Are you an artist?" with a yes. It's a bit of a leap for me, as I have zero formal training, no pedigree, etc. All I have is wit, raw talent, a sure hand and a style all unto my own. (Plus good taste and a good eye that tell me much of the work that is shown is crap.) One would think that might be enough to be given consideration by a gallery. But one would be wrong.

I don't know much about the gallery world or the business of art—although I have friends who do. Artists and dealers and
artist/dealers whose entire lives are invested in the moving of expensive paintings and prints from one wall to another. They like my work—they have even traded pieces with me or asked me to make pieces for their homes—but they can't help me.

I labor along with countless talented artists and artisans in New Mexico, a state locked in a perpetual dead heat race with Mississippi for the dubious distinction of being the nation's poorest. Only the concentrated wealth of Santa Fe and Los Alamos keep us from winning in a walk. Santa Fe has become a self-styled art Mecca, striving mightily to gain recognition for itself as a legitimate market. One to be mentioned in the same breath as New York, L.A. and Chicago. It's all high end stuff—some great, some not—so there's no room for entry level work that doesn't fit the mold.

When Elaine Horowitz was still alive—before her gallery morphed into the oh so tony LewAllen Gallery—she devoted one room to offbeat, funky pieces priced well below the grander work in the main space. I think she might have hung my work. But there is no more room for such work, commitment to the lesser tier of talent. No, every square inch of wall space must be devoted to wringing the highest amount possible out of the deep pockets of the part-time residents with third and fourth homes here.

So I am stuck in between—work apparently too refined to be considered truly outsider, yet too outside to gain access into the inner circles. A gringo working in the Hispanic genres of tin and papel picado. I submit slides for show entries to no avail, and refer people to my three-year-old web site (http://www.fosterhurley.com/flash.html) that has produced nary a nibble. Fortunately I have achieved considerable success as a writer/producer in the advertising/design arena, and have sold a screenplay to Paramount. I know I have talent and have been professionally validated. But not where it would mean the most.

"They" tell me my work just isn't right, that it doesn't fit into their buyers' profile. Well, I'll be the judge of that.