The other evening I went to a book signing at a Contemporary Arts Gallery. It was the usual scene, lots of trendy looking people (+ me) walking around with glasses of white wine in their hands and 12 year old waifs walking with trays of canapés for you not to munch on. The book itself was an elaborate affair, (not so much coffee table size as dining room table size) . . . a photo book entitled “Texas Artists Today.” The book's contents consist of photographs of current renowned Texas artists and their work. The thing that caught my eye however was that there were several book signing tables where the people behind them had name tags on that stated “I am an Artist” with their page number in the book, the idea being that you would take your newly purchased book and they would sign their particular page, thus increasing the value and desirability of your book. Curious, I spoke to one of the signers and asked her how long she had been an artist, she replied “since the age of 9.” Now to me, every child at the age of 9 is an artist, but she had persisted and had shows in several notable venues. The point being that the notable thing about this collection of “artists” was not their artistic abilities, but their grasp of what to do with your efforts to get them noticed by the white whine set.
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