Untitled, 1967, Armando Morales

Oil and collage on canvas
40.25 x 32 inches

I’m excited about our most recent acquisition. It’s the oil painting you see above, by Armando Morales. Along with Francisco Zúñiga and Carlos Mérida, he is among the best-known and most sought after Central American Modernists.

This brings our collection of his work to seven pieces. We have one forest scene, three nudes, and, with this, three abstracts. Currently, the forest paintings demand the highest prices – ranging from $100,000 to $1 million. The nudes are typically bought and sold in the $30,000 to $50,000 range. But the early abstractions, like this one, which Morales did in the 1960s when he was living and working in New York, lag behind in valuations.

Suzanne bought it for a good price from a distressed buyer. It has excellent provenance and is a good size at 40 x 32 inches. In adding this piece, I’m betting that the gap between the forests, the nudes, and the abstractions will narrow as Morales’s reputation in the international art community continues to climb and the art-buying public realizes how great these early abstractions are.

Suzanne and I are working on a sequel to Central American Modernism.It’s going to be even bigger than its predecessor because it covers more ground. The first one was on the modern period – roughly from the 1920s to the 1960s. The new book will cover contemporary artists from the 1970s to the present.

I’m excited about this project. It’s going to be important. It’s going to be fun. And it’s already giving me problems.

When we wrote Central American Modernism, we had a paucity of source materials to work with. Almost nothing in the US – even in the libraries of universities with international art studies programs. Nor was there a lot of material online. The problem was simple: Almost nobody back then cared about or thought about Central American art except Central Americans. And most of them were in Central America.

So, Suzanne and I spent about eight years and I spent more than a quarter-million dollars traveling to all six countries repeatedly. We met with museum directors, gallery owners, art critics and historians, collectors and artists – the few that were still alive. We threw parties and went to parties and ran contests and we even set up our own gallery in Nicaragua.

Like almost everything else I’ve done that I’m proud of, had I any idea what a long, demanding, and expensive slog that first book was going to be, I probably wouldn’t have done it. But I fooled myself into thinking I could do it relatively quickly and cheaply. And that got me going. Then, once I got moving, failing to finish it was not an option. To use a younger generation’s phrase, that’s how I roll. Ready. Fire. Aim.

Due to all the work we were putting into it, it began to feel like Suzanne and I were the two top experts in the world on Central American Modernism. So, when it came to making decisions about what should go in the book, I was comfortable making them.

But for the new book, I’ve enlisted help from some terrific people that know a lot more about Central American contemporary art than I do. Suzanne, of course. Also on our team is Alex Stato, who was once the director of LA’s Museum of Latin American Art.

Here’s the problem…

Both Suzanne and Alex are telling me that I have to expand my definition of art. It can’t be limited to paintings and drawings and sculptures, they say. Contemporary art must include conceptual and performance art.

I am having a tough time coming to grips with this. I understand their point. The book could be defensibly criticized for omitting these two important genres. And, in fairness, I’ve seen some conceptual/performance pieces that I thought were clever and even wonderful. But most of what I’ve seen has seemed to me to be more like a con job – a way for hucksters and their promoters to fool otherwise smart people into spending good money on silly things.

If you are not familiar with conceptual and performance art, take a look at “Good to Know,” below, and decide for yourself.

What I Believe: About Fine Art

When I think of fine art – the sort of art that the Met or the Prado or the Louvre would display – I think of paintings, watercolors, gouaches, etchings, and drawings. I think of sculpture, large and small, in clay or stone or bronze or steel. I would also include some photographs and videos.

My definition encompasses the full history of artistic expression. From prehistoric wall carvings to ancient jewelry to Greek and Roman (and other) classical paintings and carvings and sculpture to genre art of the 16th to 19th centuries to Romantic art, Neoclassical art, Impressionism, Expressionism, Abstract Expressionism, Cubism, action painting, COBRA art, naïve and outsider art.

What I don’t think of when I think of art is, for example, a woman painting her body with feces. Or a pile of stones or driftwood on the floor. Or a discarded piece of machinery on a pedestal. Or a dented car fender in a frame. Or a woman dressed in a pink leotard making animal noises from inside an iron cage.

In other words, when I think of art – the sort of art I am happy to call art – I want it to have two things. The first is what some art critics call plasticity – that it is a physical object made of something. And I want it to be something whose aesthetic value comes from its visual self – how it appears to my eyes.

When art is plastic and visible, it can be seen and judged according to its plastic and visible properties. It stands by itself, announcing what it is through itself. It doesn’t need an explanation. And I don’t want one. I want to judge it myself. I want to figure out whether it’s worth anything on my own.

The idea that anything can be a work of art is the core “insight” of conceptual art. The argument is that a urinal, by being placed in a museum, becomes something more than the thing it was before it was pulled off a bathroom wall. That, in seeing this utilitarian object in its new setting, the viewer gets to have a different and somehow more artistic experience of it.

I believe that is half true. When I encounter conceptual art in a museum, it does make me stop and think. But my thoughts are never remotely close to what the pamphlet or placard tells me the artist thinks I should think. My thoughts are, “What an utter waste of floor space.” And, “Seriously?”

If you want to be a conceptual artist, stick to the art form that caters to the brain’s capacity to understand and create ideas and concepts. In other words, become a writer. And if you want to be a performance artist, become a performer. Learn to dance or mime or juggle or tumble or act.

The borderline hysteria that the COVID pandemic provoked has finally exhausted itself. Americans – old and young, healthy or not, Trump lovers and Trump haters – have traded in their enervating views on the virus and returned to the habits of the pre-COVID days. They are gathering maskless at restaurants. Children are attending school. And the stadiums and concert halls of America are filling up again.

Among the most reluctant, however, are American workers. Many are going back to the factories and offices in which they used to spend 40+ hours a week. But many are not.

My business partners, whose employee counts range from several dozen to several thousand, have differing views on what should be done. Some believe their businesses would be better served with a complete return to the old days. They tell me that having workers in situ will improve productivity, accelerate the transfer of knowledge from seniors to newbies, and generally increase company morale.

Others, like me, have a less certain perspective. We believe there is some value in having one’s employees in the same space some of the time. But we also think there are good reasons to believe that productivity is as good or better with so much of the work being done remotely. And we can’t help figuring how much money we can save on rent.

Employees have their own points of view. Some long to be away from whatever it is that happens at home during their working hours and look forward to the refuge of an orderly workplace and collegial community. But the vast majority, according to the surveys I’ve read, would like a future that gives them the liberty to come and go as they wish.

At a recent board meeting with my main client, we decided to avoid making a cross-company mandate, and passed along the decision to the individual heads of each of the operating groups. Most of them are settling for policies of partial return. At least one, though, is looking to get everyone back full-time. He’s running into resistance because many of his employees would rather have the freedom to decide how many days they should spend in the office. And some, including some very valuable employees, are simply refusing to come back at all.

The arguments he is hearing from his employees that don’t wish to return are what you would expect. “I get more done at home.” And, “I can work more hours now because I don’t have to waste an hour every day commuting.”

A group of Apple employees are resisting the company’s back-to-the-office mandates by taking an entirely different approach. You will be amused to discover their argument in News & Views, below.

Actors That Make the Difference 

Gene Hackman and Al Pacino are great actors. Both have been amazingly good in so many roles over the years.

But Hackman has something that Pacino doesn’t have. Some ability – some something – to make every movie he stars in work.

Ask yourself: Have you ever seen a Gene Hackman movie that didn’t work? From The French Connection to The Conversation to Hoosiers to Mississippi Burning to The Unforgiven to Enemy of the State to The Replacements to Crimson Tide to The Firm to The Royal Tenenbaums to The Birdcage to Young Frankenstein to Uncommon Valor to Bonnie and Clyde?

Al Pacino was fantastic in The Godfather (I and II and III), Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, Donnie Brasco, and Once Upon a Time in America. And all those movies were fantastic, too. He was good in Sea of Love and sort of good in Scarface and even Frankie and Johnny. He overdid it a bit in Scent of a Woman. But then there were all the others: Cruising, Author! Author!, The Local Stigmatic, Dick Tracy, Two Bits, City Hall, Chinese Coffee, S1m0ne, etc.

Maybe Hackman is simply better at picking movies. But I think there’s more at play. I believe he has a kind of thespian charisma that is so strong it makes bad scripts sound good and brings out the best in the actors he plays against.

Anthony Hopkins is another actor that comes to mind when I think of that sort of charisma. He was amazing in the “Hannibal” movies. His performance was key to making The Remains of the Day so successful. Likewise with Meet JoeBlack and, most recently, The Father. But I’m not sure about his movies that I haven’t seen – like The Edge, The Rite, or Fracture. Did they work? Did he make them work?

I thought I’d waste some of my time today (and some of yours when you read this) contemplating which of the several dozen “really good actors” I’ve listed below have that magic ability to make the movies they star in work. Check it out. Tell me what you think.

MALE ACTORS 

I think these actors have it: 

Gene Hackman, Anthony Hopkins, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Robert Downey Jr., Marlon Brando, Paul Newman, and Humphrey Bogart

And maybe these… 

Sean Penn, Joe Pesci, Robert De Niro, Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington, Kevin Spacey, Will Smith, Lawrence Olivier, Leonardo DiCaprio, Morgan Freeman, Christian Bale, Samuel L. Jackson, Brad Pitt, Sean Connery, Don Cheadle, and Mel Gibson

But probably not these…

Al Pacino, Liam Neeson, Robin Williams, Hugh Jackman, Daniel Day-Lewis, Johnny Depp, Peter O’Toole, Henry Fonda, Bruce Willis, Michael Caine, George Clooney, Jeff Bridges, and Nicholas Cage

FEMALE ACTORS 

I think these actresses have it:

Frances McDormand, Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn, Diane Keaton, Bette Davis, Jennifer Lawrence, Ingrid Bergman, and Maggie Smith

And maybe these… 

Helen Mirren, Faye Dunaway, Cate Blanchett, Elizabeth Taylor, Meryl Streep, Marilyn Monroe, Judi Dench, Jodie Foster, Glenn Close, Emma Stone, Scarlett Johansson, Jane Fonda, Charlize Theron, Vivien Leigh, Kathy Bates, Jessica Lange, Barbara Stanwyck, and Olivia de Havilland

But probably not these… 

Hillary Swank, Penelope Cruz, Ellen Burstyn, Susan Sarandon, Sandra Bulllock, Anne Hathaway, Michelle Pfeiffer, Reese Witherspoon, Shirley MacLaine, Sally Field, Nicole Kidman, Julia Roberts, Natalie Portman, Kate Winslet, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Viola Davis, and Sigourney Weaver

BUT WAIT. THERE’S MORE! 

Then there are the character actors that cannot save the movies they have a role in, but bring to life every scene they are in. Like…

Tom Waits, Peter Lorre, Eli Wallach, Thelma Ritter, Martin Balsam, Quentin Tarantino, J.K. Simmons, Steve Buscemi, Charles Coburn, Harry Dean Stanton, Vincent Schiavelli, Tilda Swinton, Walton Goggins, Judy Greer, and Chris Cooper

What do you think? Who did I miss? Where am I wrong?

When I was 17, I registered as a conscientious objector. There were two options: (1) I won’t go under any circumstances, or (2) I’ll go, but I won’t carry a gun. I took the second option. I was drafted and had an appointment with my draft board to defend myself. I was told I would not succeed, that I’d go to prison instead. I was okay with that. When the day came to defend myself, I somehow missed the appointment. I got a call from my draft board saying I was going to jail. I heard nothing more from them after that.

The invasion of Ukraine has me thinking again about the morality and practicality of war. I wish I had the clarity of mind I had when I was younger. Defending one’s home and homeland certainly feels justifiable. Invading other countries? No. But what if, as in the case of Ukraine, the invader believes that it is a form of self-defense?

I don’t know. But my general sentiment about war is cynical. I do like what Tolstoy had to say on the subject. He believed that the upper class uses war to dominate the working class:

“They stir up their own people [against some] foreign government, and then pretend that for the well-being, or the defense, of their people they must declare war: which again brings profit only to generals, officers, officials, merchants, and, in general, to the rich. In reality war is an inevitable result of the existence of armies; and armies are only needed by Governments to dominate their own working classes.”

Holding Fast to the Stories We Want to Believe 

I got into an interesting discussion about a comment I made in reviewing King Richard. I said:

“Before I saw the film, all I knew of Richard Williams was the character the media portrayed him to be: fanatical, egotistical, and abusive. The story told here, which was approved by Venus and Serena, showed evidence of the former two traits but none of the last. On the contrary, the Richard we see in King Richard is a loving and devoted father, doing his best to raise five healthy, successful daughters.

“I haven’t done any research to determine the veracity of this portrayal. If it’s good enough for Serena and Venus, it’s good enough for me.”

A friend took issue with that last sentence. “By all accounts,” he said, “Williams was more horrible than the movie indicated.”

One man. Two stories. Which should we believe? The extremely negative characterization put out by the media for so many years? Or the more benign view presented by Richard Williams’s daughters in the movie?

We debated the question earnestly. But neither of us was persuaded by the other’s arguments.

Afterwards, I was thinking about other, similar media characterizations. There was Woody Allen. Then Mel Gibson. And Alec Baldwin. And Jussie Smollett. And at the top of the YouTube hit list right now: Johnny Depp.

In each of these cases, there were two narratives. A very damaging one that caught fire in the tabloids. And another, more nuanced, view supported by a few friends and colleagues. For all but Jussie Smollett, the damaging story prevailed. Johnny Depp’s trial may determine whether he can restore his professional and personal reputation.

The same phenomenon has occurred in recent years with many public figures. Professional athletes. TV personalities. Politicians. And even social media influencers. The most flagrant example is narratives we’ve been sold about Donald Trump. One has him as a populist hero in touch with the working class. The other as a racist, narcissistic, homophobic, transphobic, and misogynist megalomaniac. And even now, two years after he vacated the White House, those two stories have not changed. Nor has the number of Americans – approximately 100 million each – that believe them.

As someone that’s spent a lifetime selling ideas and information, I’m attentive to the mechanisms of persuasion. And, as any experienced marketer will tell you, the single most powerful way to persuade someone of anything is to begin your sales pitch with a dramatic story. Facts are helpful in supporting one’s beliefs. But the beliefs are born in storytelling.

Stories activate the imagination. And, as neurobiological studies have shown, the imagination conjures up the same sensations – visual, auditory, olfactory, even the sense of motion – that are aroused by real life experiences. (In remembering experiences, the brain cannot distinguish between what was imagined and what was real.)

Facts are processed differently than stories. They are taken in and stored in the neocortical center of the brain, which is designed for logical and rational thinking. It does not have receptors or storage for feelings. (This is the part of the brain that makes Homo sapiens sapient.)

That is why we trust our feelings. They are stored unconsciously and are felt more deeply and more strongly than stored facts. Once rooted, they are almost impossible to deracinate.

And that, I think, is why it is so difficult for us to give up the stories we have come to believe. It’s why my friend and I won’t give up our beliefs about what kind of father Richard Williams really was. Absent the prejudice of deeply stored feelings, we can have a rational discussion that can change our minds. But once we “live through” a dramatic story – whether it is real, imagined, or conjured by a clever journalist or copywriter – facts no longer matter to us. In our limbic and reptilian brains, giving up our stories feels like giving up our very lives.

What I Believe: About Honesty and Dishonesty

I’ve done no research to back this up. But I’d bet that the tendency for humankind to lie developed on the same timeline as our ability to speak.

An essential component of civility – if not civilization itself – is the prudent employment of dishonesty. I would further argue that most of the best attributes of culture – art, literature, dance, and sport – are rooted in the willingness to lie about what is possible in the actual world.

I also believe the idea that honesty is not a virtue, but a privilege. A privilege granted by nature to the young and beautiful, and by society to the powerful and protected.

Life without dishonesty would be unbearable.

What can one person do in a single lifetime? 

For the first 50 years of my life, I don’t think I read a single biography or autobiography. But as I stepped hesitatingly into what I optimistically thought of as Part II of my life, I became interested in people that left their marks on the world.

In the last two decades, I’ve read about a dozen biographies and one autobiography, as well as a handful of memoirs. Some were authors (Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Jack Kerouac, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Jane Austen, and Joan Didion). Some were businessmen (Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, and Donald Trump).

I read two biographies of Henry Flagler. I think it was because of how much he accomplished after he retired from building Standard Oil with John D. Rockefeller. He moved to Florida and spent the rest of his life basically building four of Florida’s most important cities. St. Augustine, Palm Beach, Miami, and Key West.

The standard view of aging is that, at 50, the slope of one’s life is downhill. But, of course, it doesn’t have to be. By the time I hit 50, I’d had some success in business, but failed to accomplish anything that I had dreamed about when I was younger. I’ve been busy knocking off some of the items on that list ever since.

I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. Perhaps to explain why, last week, when I had the chance to read a short biography of Noah Webster, I was once again inspired.