Things we may lose in the flood: on artists’ estates

Perhaps the gap between the living and the dead is narrowing, since these artists’ estates are being sold and marketed alongside their living counterparts. If so, the estates’ survival depends strongly on a strategy for the present, rather than simply a ministering to the past.

The philosopher Gilles Lipovetsky describes the gradual shift from Postmodernity to Hypermodernity[1], a period marked by what he calls the ‘second individualistic revolution’, driven by an ‘Aesthetic Capitalism’ in which the category of ‘art’ is strongly framed by the gravitational attraction of the ‘brand’. In the context of an artistic career this would imply that individuals might align themselves with existing major brands in the field such as museums, collectors, and top commercial galleries.

In February 2017 gallerist Andrea Rosen circulated an email stating that she ‘will no longer have a typical permanent public space and therefore no longer represent living artists’ The closure of her gallery would allow her instead to focus on the estate of Felix Gonzalez Torres, an artist who died in 1996. Rosen stated: “In my role as the executor of the Estate of Felix Gonzalez-Torres, I am excited to let you know that the work of Felix Gonzalez Torres will be co-represented by my gallery…and David Zwirner Gallery. [His work] deserves the attention and stewardship of more than one gallery providing a multi-pronged support structure.”

Rosen is not the only influential gallery closing its doors in an uncertain financial and political climate. Whatever other organizational or personal issues have led to the decision, it is her exit strategy that should interest us here – to focus exclusively on the estate of an artist. According to a recent article in the Financial Times an increasing number of galleries has begun to represent artists’ estates; Harriet Fitch Little writes: “At the international gallery Hauser & Wirth, which has approached the field with particular vigour, almost a third of represented artists are now estates or foundations — 21 in total. Seventeen of these were taken on in the past decade.”

Other galleries such as Zwirner and Gagosian are moving in the same direction.
And while some of these concern the legacies of long-passed and acknowledged masters – Picasso, Warhol, Hesse – less established artists who died quite recently, and whose work often poses a myriad of new technical and conceptual questions, are now being increasingly considered. A recent article in the New York Times stated: “Handling artists not only allows for control of their remaining unsold work, but it also offers access to their catalogues raisonnés, a thorough accounting of every piece by the artists and who owns them — which can lead to future sales.”

Commercial Galleries, essential agents in the sustainable running of artists’ legacies, are thus strengthening their secondary market portfolios by signing up artists’ estates. But perhaps the gap between the living and the dead is narrowing, since these artists’ estates are being sold and marketed alongside their living counterparts. If so, the estates’ survival depends strongly on a strategy for the present, rather than simply a ministering to the past.

Present evidence shows that while the career of an individual during their lifetime represents the key element, the estate may add further ‘chapters’ through the type and placement of works it holds posthumously, at times enhancing, though sometimes also distorting the artist’s reception

Continuining the legacy

Contemporary artist Phyllida Barlow, now in her 70s, is a more recent addition to the roster of Hauser & Wirth Gallery; her large-scale works made from perishable industrial materials would not at first mark her out as a marketable target. But in an age of renewed interest in the notion of materiality her assertion that she is a ‘studio-artist, a maker’ rings true and is underlined by major international museum exhibitions and her selection to represent Britain at Venice Biennale in 2017. The gallery has, by her own admission, been instrumental in seizing and supporting these prestigious display opportunities, and points to a productive game plan to extend her career and sales.

While it is essential that estates cultivate good relationships with one or several commercial galleries, the tendency is often to aim for a relatively small coterie of major spaces who appear to have the ability to command the best prices.

However, as is the case with a living artist’s career, there are several other factors beyond pricing to be considered when making a choice in regard to representation. A contract – if any – should remain in force only for a useful term, allowing it to be revised periodically since artistic and economic needs change over time. Successful artists are not generally represented by a single gallery, but by several outlets catering for different geographies and markets, a practice which might be continued posthumously, provided that the estate hold a significant body of works that may be traded. Moreover, a lesser gallery may also offer the benefit of more targeted or bespoke attention to the estate, and may indeed have strong working relationships with a number of important museums or publishers which are instrumental to the continued attention given to the artist’s work.

As the legacy business expands, badly managed estates can become an easy target for a predatory market – which may lead to the dispersal of an artist’s oeuvre; when dealing with Artists’ Estates, some galleries can experience a conflict of interest between the achievement of an economic profit and their potential advisory function. The question remains of who ultimately represents and therefore writes the history of an artist?

Present evidence shows that while the career of an individual during their lifetime represents the key element, the estate may add further ‘chapters’ through the type and placement of works it holds posthumously, at times enhancing, though sometimes also distorting the artist’s reception. Authority can then be conceived of as a demonstration of financial might, rather than scholarliness.

Advisory boards

A generally salutary example is provided by the Eduardo Paolozzi Foundation, which was established in 1994 as a charity, nine years before Paolozzi’s death, allowing the artist to control and test its constitution and running.

It is chaired by businessman David Hiscox a former Lloyds underwriter, with members such as Professor Christopher Frayling, a noted figure in the artworld. Copyright issues are handled by DACS, and Jonathan Clark has represented the estate commercially. It is useful to note that the estate holds a significant body of work which it may lend to major institutions, or sell, from time to time, in order to sustain its activities such as the organising of major exhibitions.  Sources reveal that a collection of his sculpture Heads sold at Frieze masters for £600K in 2016, a substantial sum used to support the retrospective of the artist the following year at Whitechapel Gallery, London. Such a prestigious public exhibition in turn helps to valorize the stock of work kept by estate.

Often the family or inheritors of an estate spend years to resolve legal issues if the artist leaves no instructions. This is rather more common than one might think, as even artists such as Pablo Picasso died intestate.

Paolozzi’s example seems to indicate a carefully planned estate that ably supports the artist’s legacy, whilst investing strategically to maintain the value of works and the artist’s presence in an important institutional and curatorial discourse.

With this in mind, the establishment of a professional board of trustees and advisory board would appear to be crucial steps. It is, however, often common practice for an estate’s managing team to be mainly populated by the artist’s family members, occasionally supported by a legal representative. Whilst the latter can bring the benefit of applying the correct procedures, in matters such as governance or inheritance, a legal advisor is not able to offer guidance in matters of a curatorial, marketing, sales, or art historical nature.

Likewise, a relative or heir is not always the most reliable expert on the work of an artist; their emotional involvement and also the potential demand of a financial return can render the impartiality of their judgment questionable. That said, there are also key examples to the contrary where the heirs have established and indeed positively enhanced their parental estates, such as the Flavin and Rainer Judd in the US, or the Vandenberg siblings in Belgium.

Composing an advisory board could cover those areas of specialist knowledge that are not specifically represented in the management team, offering the benefit of an additional perspective in the decision-making process. Moreover, in a number of foundations, members of both boards may have remits that go well beyond the administrative or advisory.

For example, the Felix Gonzalez-Torres Foundation Fellows Forum counts on the membership of gallerists, museum directors and curators, and artists. Of these, artists Julie Ault and Roni Horn were actively involved in the works’ dissemination as curators for the solo exhibitions of Gonzalez-Torres at Andrea Rosen and Massimo de Carlo in 2016.

Often the family or inheritors of an estate spend years to resolve legal issues if the artist leaves no instructions. This is rather more common than one might think, as even artists such as Pablo Picasso died intestate.

Perhaps the analogy of contracting an architect to build a house, rather than the client instructing each trade is apt. The board of a living estate fulfils a similar function, a professional body that oversees the estate able to deliver clear and decisive judgment and action buttressed by the knowledge of its members.

Post-medium conservation

On an entirely different scale, when Irish artist Patrick Jolley died unexpectedly in 2012 in his 40s, he left no will, and his unmarried partner, mother to his two young children, spent years pursuing the Grant of Probate – an official document giving the right to deal with a deceased’s estate. Jolley’s work consisted of large filmic installations, and related still photography. These extraordinary and elaborate settings, built by the artist revealed narratives of individuals in distressing and alarming circumstances -consumed by fire, submerged in water, or ejected from great heights.

The artist’s unwavering commitment to these major projects that saw him travel the globe to film in remote regions in Russia and India, meant he had no interest in commercial gallery representation, even though his work was collected by some major institutions. His last, prescient move, was to instigate the writing and compilation of a major catalogue of his oeuvre, which was indeed published posthumously and was instrumental in ensuring the correct attribution of works. Though his work continued to be exhibited, the absence of clear infrastructures and guidance resulted in a lesser posthumous exposure than might be expected from the overwhelming critical support garnered by the work.

The complexity of artists’ works in the so-called post-medium condition raises a multifarious set of questions regarding the nature of works and their documentation (what is a document, what is a work?) which simple digitisation of images does in no way address.

In fact, such a distressing example points to the predicament of many contemporary emerging or mid-career artists. Arguably, the vast monetary sums involved in the major estates propel them to public attention. We read about the legal and financial wrangles involving the foundations of Robert Rauschenberg, Henry Moore, or Cy Twombly. By contrast, we see little discussion of the affairs of lesser estates, or indeed of the help artists might need in order to build a sustainable legacy. There are projects to deal with the archival needs of artists such as DACS’s 360 Degree Project offering ‘specialist support in areas including archive management, storage and valuation’ to the selected artists. While a worthy effort, it underlines the partial nature of the enterprise and does not fully acknowledge the strategic overview necessary to manage an artists’s trajectory towards sustainable production during his or her lifetime and beyond. The problem remains that services to artists are compartmentalised: creative lives do indeed need lawyers, accountants, archivists, gallerists and so on. It is equally true that such specialists may be worked with independently, safely fire-walled and separated. Perhaps the analogy of contracting an architect to build a house, rather than the client instructing each trade is apt. The board of a living estate fulfils a similar function, a professional body that oversees the estate able to deliver clear and decisive judgment and action buttressed by the knowledge of its members.

Indeed, the complexity of artists’ works in the so-called post-medium condition raises a multifarious set of questions regarding the nature of works and their documentation (what is a document, what is a work?) which simple digitisation of images does in no way address. When looking at the work of Polish Artist Goshka Macuga, which often brings the artist’s curatorial role into play – as in the exhibition Before the Beginning and after the End at Prada Foundation in 2016 – one becomes keenly aware of the nuanced nature of categorisation. As witnessed by the pages of her catalogue – a kind of book of books – chronicling every exhibition of the artist, the retrieval system itself is being tested by the artist. The closest to a catalogue raisonné – one of the cornerstones of an estate – it is in fact an anti-catalogue. The book is a kind of compendium of her work, allied to is function as an encyclopaedia of every relevant influence; a veritable labyrinth, a Borgesian library perhaps – that points to the infinity of knowledge.

The archive of the work is for some artists the lynchpin of the estate; it has a number of special functions ranging from authentication, potential study, and, not least – explanation. British artist Anthony McCall’s vast body of work relies on often complex staging. With this in mind, the artist has produced over 50 sketchbooks showing the progression of ideas, and also specific installation procedures. Moreover, these stand alongside a number of gallery macquettes and paper models of filmic sequences from the installations produced by the artist throughout his exhibition history. The question remains whether such items should be given to a museum or library, or whether they are essential pillars of the legacy – both as works and instruments. Here, the archive of a putative estate may function as a ‘handbook’, giving scholarly and professional access to appropriate interpretation and exhibition – the afterlife of the work.

The dialogue with subsequent generations

A salient aspect of an Artist’s Estate is often the degree to which it interfaces with other creative individuals. In particular, when British artist John Latham died, he left his studio/house as a ‘living sculpture’. The building housed works by the artist, but was also a space for living artists to explore his ideas through their own work, a practice extended to the current exhibition at Serpentine Gallery, London entitled ‘A World View- John Latham’ with works by Tanya Bruguera, Laure Provost, Douglas Gordon, and Cally Spooner made in response Latham’s oeuvre. When Flat Time house was threatened with closure in 2017, the Dino and Ernestina Santarelli Foundation stepped in to purchase the building to allow the foundation to continue its occupation and programme, an important example of how different foundations may collaborate financially or even creatively.

This expansion of an artist’s legacy as a form of creative dialogue with subsequent generations of practitioners can also be seen at the Mike Kelley Foundation for the Arts, chaired by theorist and academic John C. Welchman.

Kelley’s desire to support likeminded practices after his death underlines not only a generosity of spirit, but presents also an example of continued co-authorship, which does not solely reside in the body of a work, but in the impact and influence it has on the wider cultural field.

It furthers the artist’s ‘philanthropic work and honors his legacy through grants for innovative projects’ at Los Angeles nonprofit organizations. The goal is to benefit visual artists and arts organizations alike, and to support compelling, inventive, and risk-taking work in any medium.’ Kelley’s desire to support likeminded practices after his death underlines not only a generosity of spirit, but presents also an example of continued co-authorship, which does not solely reside in the body of a work, but in the impact and influence it has on the wider cultural field. The first task of the foundation is to enshrine an artist’s works, but the second concerns the maintenance of a sphere of influence. Thus, the foundation sets an example, and then follows on by expecting those it supports to set their own. This community engagement can be seen in key areas of his work, including his public ‘artangel’ project Mobile Homestead begun in 2005, a replica of his childhood home, envisioned as a community gallery that would live on the grounds of the Museum of Contemporary Art, Detroit (MOCAD), along with a removable white clapboard façade that could be dispatched and provide a host of services to the area.

In line with a growing number of estates, the Mike Kelley Foundation does not authenticate works by the artist; in the light of numerous lawsuits brought against these organisations by those seeking to validate works in their possession, the demand for authentication, once associated with scholarship and authority, is now greeted with reluctance on the part of those well-placed to undertake it. Though recent history proves that foundations generally win such cases before the law, it is the effort, time and money spent in their defence, allied to the preference to exercise authorial efforts elsewhere – that has led to this retreat.

The ark

In a highly professionalised and stratified environment artists require support in developing a sustainable strategy to ensure their legacy. Art has never had more popularity, visibility, and indeed market-value than it has today. Perhaps due to these factors, artists feel a sense of entitlement to a successful career, and indeed to the extension of the work beyond their lifetime. Many of today’s most exciting, highly visible artists do not necessarily make work that fits market categories especially well; nevertheless their exhibitions are viewed by vast audience numbers, as is the case with Korean duo Moon & Jeon’s hi-tech installation at Venice’s Korean Pavilion in 2015, or Rafael Lozano-Hemmer ‘Zoom Pavilion’ at Art Basel Unlimited in 2016, to name but two. The aforementioned postmedium condition has produced artists working with technology, space, and time whose materiality remains often uncertain or unstable.

It is this large majority of artists that will not make it onto the gallery estates ‘ark’ before the predicted flood.

In the meantime, most commercial galleries will continue to collect the signatures of those individuals whose estates are well-stocked with more object-based work, and which promise to deliver good profits through continuing posthumous sales through the secondary market. However, many emerging and mid-career artists who are represented in collections and public exhibitions will not meet the financial tests set by the major galleries. One might estimate that number to be in the 90% – and it is this large majority of artists that will not make it onto the gallery estates ‘ark’ before the predicted flood.

Arguably the discussions regarding the wealthy estates of those already in the pantheon of art that so exercise lawyers, accountants and gallerists, become a sort of entertainment, a sideshow to what is actually happening: an ethereal world in which mortals fight over the spoils of fallen artistic heroes of a perpetual yesteryear. Contrariwise, it is the 90% we should concern ourselves with – to develop support structures and mechanisms better able to enshrine the shifting values of art’s eco-system, rather than by simply underscoring those promoted by a commercial model.

Therefore, more than ever, the work undertaken during the artist’s lifetime on legacy is key: the devising and honing of a posthumous strategy, the careful mapping, selecting and positioning of works, both in the institutional framework and for the estate itself, the nomination of an effective group of supporters, and finally, the temporal pattern to adopt – be it a sunset model – which terminates at a certain point, or an extension into eternity – however long that may turn out to be.

Footnotes

1) Gilles Lipovetsky, Hypermodern Times, Polity Press, Cambridge, 2005, op.cit.