We received this morning what could only be described as a jeremiad, penned by a well-known designer, a gentleman who has been a friend to us over the years, complaining in vigorous terms about his poor treatment by some people who, though a degree or two distant from the design community, nevertheless exercise what is perceived to be an inordinate degree of oftentimes baleful influence.
You’ll notice how carefully I’m couching all this, as we’ve no enmity toward either camp, but the fact of this fracas points to something that we see more and more in the closely allied art, antiques and design trades. Specifically, that things are in such a state of flux that within the world of fairs, galleries, show houses- all the things that in former times worked well to promote everything in the fine and decorative arts- we’ve all consequently become so defensive about maintaining and puffing our portion of inexorably shrinking turf that we’re unwilling to take anything on the chin anymore. In this regard, I am reminded of my own concern, expressed to one of my neighbors on Jackson Square, about the closing of a well-established gallery. My rather narrow-minded neighbor disputed this, and thought it a good thing, as, in his opinion, loosing one gallery meant more business for those of us who remained. Well, of course not- we all of us depend on each other for support. None of us does exactly the same thing- each designer has their own look, each writer has their own style, each art and antiques gallery has its own collecting aesthetic, and each finds consonance with its own likeminded cadre. A gallery closing on the street does not mean that, even in the short term, those of us who remain will see a bump up in sales. What it does mean is that what was once a venue becomes less of one, with a consequent decline in foot fall.
Though trying to avoid this spate of bitchy cynicism, it all does seem to be exacerbated by an inordinate number of people who, because the numbers of colleagues decline, are thrust forward within all the trades to positions of prominence, somehow managing to survive where others have not. The result of merit? Well, arguably, but I think it’s oftentimes more like Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper. The feuding Hollywood gossip columnists were reduced to one, Hopper, who as the younger of the two, would expect to physically survive her rival. It is said that Hopper always promised to prevail because she would, in Hedda’s own words, ‘Outlast the old bag.’ The upshot was, though, that Hopper survived in print only, dying some six years before Parsons, by which time Hopper herself became a journalistic anachronism.
I don’t suppose anyone in the larger design and antiques world really wants to achieve such a pyrrhic victory, so it behooves anyone who presently holds a position of influence to do some introspection to determine how their position was achieved. Times being the way they are, thankfulness and humility should be concomitant with survival. Moreover, it should always go without saying that a position of leadership, regardless of how it was gained, betokens a tremendous degree of responsibility for promoting the trade, much easier accomplished, wouldn’t we all agree?, through collegial promotion, rather than wiping out seeming competitors or those of differing points of view.