The Accidental Art Collector

I’m what one would call, an Accidental Art Collector. I was not brought up in an artistic family. We rarely went on vacations or even out to eat for that matter. We were low-middle income and I was a latch key kid with a TV babysitter growing up in the 80’s. However, I was brought up by two very loving parents who created a practical, self-sufficient yet curious daughter that was eager to learn. Saturday afternoons were spent at the public library in Pinellas Park with mom and finished with a stop at the Lil’ General for red hot chewing gum and candies to enjoy while we read our book selections on the couch. Afternoon school pickups were made by dad where all we wished for was a stop at the 7-11 for a Slurpee. Our walls weren’t filled with art or shelves full of sculptures although I do remember having one of those boats made with strings that was hanging over the console TV. But we did have family photos everywhere. On tables, the walls, in shelving… that was our “décor”. So “art” was never a consideration growing up. And that was okay. But being exposed to art in high school was an unexpected blessing!

While on summer vacation with my grandparents, my dad enrolled me in high school and chose two drawing classes and one humanities class for me to attend. I loved them all and actually still have my drawings from 19xx though hidden away safely for no one to see. 😉 But despite that exposure, I really didn’t think anything of art. Then I graduated high school, went on to college, got my own place (with multiple roommates), moved every 7-12 months until getting a little established in my mid to late 20’s when Pier One was my fantasy land. It was affordable, unique (at the time) and just plain fun. So decorate, decorate, decorate I did! Got married, rented a house, purchased furniture, got divorced and spent years rebuilding my credit.

Fast forward…and now in my 30’s and living my life for only me. Immediately after that divorce I went on a cruise. First stop was Haiti and how fortunate I still feel that I got to stop and experience that overwhelming third world nation. Directly off the ship, we walked straight into a Haitian market with all types of goods, services and “extra-curricular” activities. It was scary and fantastic at the same time and somehow I found myself in the tent of a metal artist whose work I just fell in love with. I walked away with two pieces that while I can’t recall how much I spent, I do remember the joy I felt in owning this art that connected me to a country that I knew nothing about. I also remember cutting myself on the sharp point of one of the sun prongs (imagine that, me buying a metal image of a sun – inside joke for those who know me). Hee hee.

So now in retrospect that may have been the beginning of my need to own authentic original art. I remember buying two photos of amazing lightning at the Mount Dora Art Festival a year later, then a photo on canvas of graffiti under a bridge, and going to a friend of a friend’s art show where I felt obligated to buy something yet ended up so thankful that I did because it still adorns my table and I absolutely love that it’s called “Feeling Good.” I also have a vague memory of trading a sculpture for my cat during a bad breakup of which I can’t remember the artist who created the sculpture, nor can I remember that boyfriend. We will call that a win, I suppose, although I do miss that sculpture.

So slowly I began the unconscious process of replacing my Pier 1 “art” and at times, thrift store finds with authentic, original and meaningful (to me) art. And then I start working IN the arts. No, not as an artist, but as a social media marketer, administrator and arts advocate and the world of art just blew wide open! Suddenly the majority of my clients were artists, my friends were artists, I was dating an artist…. There was so much to learn and to experience and I just soaked it all up. But I didn’t go crazy buying art. For one, I had a budget. Single woman, solo entrepreneur, new homeowner. There were practical priorities that ranked higher than artistic desires.

So over the years, I continued to acquire what I liked, what moved me, what I “had” to have and then in April of 2020 (yes the beginning of the pandemic), I was in my house alone, bored, perusing social media when I saw someone post a photo album of their art collection (they were bored too I’m guessing.) I thought to myself that sounds like a good idea so I walked around my house snapping pics of all the art that I’d collected over the years. Paintings, photographs, mixed media, sculptures and you know what? I had over 20 pieces of original artwork in my tiny 1928 bungalow of a house. I was an Art Collector. I am an Art Collector. An Accidental Art Collector to be more exact. Having time to ponder the world during a pandemic, I looked back and realized I had no plans to “collect” art. I just knew I liked what I liked and the bonus was that I got to TALK to the person who created what I liked. Future investing wasn’t a thought, quantity wasn’t a reality, I only purchased pieces that moved me and that I could not stop thinking about.
I also started a list of artists whose work I can’t afford yet but I still follow on social media just waiting for that right time or right place to purchase a piece, meet them and talk about their work.

So now one of my favorite things to do is watch new visitors come into my house and look inquisitively at my walls and shelves and ask me a question about a particular piece. I can tell them the story of meeting the artist who just photographed graffiti under a bridge one random day that ended up inspired the whole trajectory of her art career or why my favorite sculpture in my house is called “Samurai Butterfly.” 😉

Whether or not any of these pieces increase in value is irrelevant to me (although it would be very cool for both me and them), I love having these stories in my home that I get to share and relive over and over again. I’m an Accidental Art Collector and I love it!
Now don’t get me started on the books I collect!!!.•