Corporate Blues: “A Collective Failure” 

The originals (1993-1997)

The Corporate Blues: A collective failure was the culmination of 5 years immersed in a very volatile public company- a shoe company named LA Gear to be exact. It was my first real corporate job. This experience catapulted me into launching my own company, Edge Quest, and shoe brand, Mozo, circa 1993. It was liberating for me to express in artistic terms my corporate frustrations with how public companies do business and are beholden to Wall Street and the stockholders.

My original artist statement was the following: 

The use of toys and primary colors is reminiscent of the days of uninhibited truthfulness and fearless creativity- without the limitations imposed by the misuse of power and the insecurities of ego. As portrayed in mixed media format, the plight of the Yellowbelly sheds light on the failure of “The Collective”.

The cast:

Yellowbellies: Defined by the color yellow. They are those among us who would be considered “non-players” in the corporate game.

Bluemeanies: Defined by the color blue. They are the individuals who “play the game.”

During this 4-year entrepreneurial gadabout, I was looking at public companies through a different lens, and was inspired to create 16 Corporate Blues collage shadowboxes.

Matrix. 2017

Soliciting door-to-door

Naiveté (1997)

In 1997 I was clueless regarding how to market my art. On my first trip to a gallery in Los Angeles, I brought several of my pieces with me and just walked in off the street. I was quickly alerted of my error, and after several minutes of listening to a courtesy tutorial on the artist-to-gallery submission process, I was curtly dismissed.

Lego my Ego. Circa 1995

Bartered for slides  

Following protocol (August 1997)

I needed to start by creating slides of my work. I solicited help from Bruce Kurosaki, a professional photographer and friend, to shoot my pieces. It was quite the operation. We shot my artwork with a 4X5 camera attached to a boom hovering over the work and surrounded by an expensive lighting system. As bartered payment for his services Bruce requested two pieces: Bonus and Promotion. 

Promotion was later returned to me because it had the word “sex” on it and Bruce had several little ones in the house then.

Rejected En masse  

Dejected (May-March 1997)

My next endeavor was to visit every single gallery in Los Angeles. I made a list of potential galleries and sent my slides to all of them. In the spring of 1997 I received rejection letters en masse. The Interview slide even has a stain on it.

The rejections began arriving in March 1997, and continued to arrive through May of that year. The galleries included the following: LA Louver/Rosamund Felson Gallery/Pace Wildenstein Gallery/Tasende Gallery/Merging One - nice note with suggested galleries to contact/ Manny Silverman Gallery/ Kiyo Higashi Gallery/Angles Gallery/Koplin Gallery/Ace Gallery

Searching for guidance

Just make a poster (March 25, 1997)

I was stymied by what to do next. I found Sylvia White, whose name kept popping up in my gallery sleuthing. She is the founder and director of Contemporary Artists’ Services and has advised artists on all matters related to business, marketing and exhibitions since 1979.  She also represents artists and had her own gallery in Santa Monica alongside her office. I thought it was worthwhile to seek Sylvia’s guidance, and set up a consultation with her for a cool $250.00 in March of 1997.

Off to Santa Monica with my shadow box artwork I went. Finding zero parking anywhere near her office, I had to lug my pieces a couple of blocks. Her previous appointment ran long, so mine was late in starting.

I began to show Sylvia my work and to discuss my artist’s statement. Her next appointment then arrived early. This was my first time presenting my work to a professional and in public, and I felt rushed and quite uncomfortable. About my work Sylvia had only this to say: that I should make a poster. Huh? Why would a consultant think my work could only be understood in poster form? That advice cost me 250 bucks. She also went through the Gallery Guide and highlighted a couple of contemporary galleries I should target. When I saw Sylvia roll her finger over her own gallery, I mentioned, “How about this one?” to which she made no reply. I guess she didn’t want to highlight that one. I contemplated that maybe she would highlight her gallery if I made a poster, came back with my prepaid follow-up question and asked, “Sylvia, how about now?”

With the next appointment hovering, and with no real connection with my work, compounded by my calling her gallery out, she charged my credit card for services rendered. I left to lug my work back to my car, ponder what had happened and be glad I hadn’t gotten a parking ticket. She had offered a follow-up call with the initial fee but I never cashed that in. I already had her big idea of taking my three-dimensional framed pieces and making a giant poster.

I started researching contemporary Los Angeles galleries, reviewing their work and getting the lay of the land. I didn’t include Sylvia’s, of course.

Footnote:

As of 2017 Sylvia White is located in Ventura, California. Her gallery currently represents over 40 artists.

Alma mater Roanoke College Alumni show  

Breaking & entering (April 7, 2003)

I was featured in the local Roanoke Times newspaper showing off Gameboard for a Roanoke College Alumni show. There was a video cobbled together of that event, but St. Anthony (patron saint of lost and stolen things) has decided the recording of my Alumni show of 2003 should stay missing.

The Roanoke Times. 2001

I sent 4 pieces to that show: Gameboard, Promotion, Lego my Ego, and an instructional piece called Contest. The contest offered Gameboard free to anyone who could name the band/artist on the back of the CD used in that piece. Many folks filled out the Community Chest card but no one won.

Someone tried breaking into the Contest piece to see the band name on the CD. Little did they know the Contest CD was a blank. The real one was in Gameboard.  It was then that I realized the power of the word “free” and what people will do to get something for free, even if they don’t like the product.

I will continue this contest for Gameboard. Why not? Each person gets only one guess. Just send me an email.  In case there is a tie, and there’s a guess at the exact same time, I will cut the piece in half for each lucky contestant. If there are three people who get it right at the exact same time, I’ll cut Gameboard into a triptych. Good luck!

Contest. 2003

Gallery C

A free lunch (October 3, 2003)

Gallery C was a contemporary gallery just up the street from me in Hermosa Beach CA. I believe it opened in 2003 and closed in 2009. The location is now a Chase bank. I would visit the gallery often. It was the only gallery I could walk to in Los Angeles. My friend, Scott Sulzer, had a sandwich joint on the same street. Damn good sandwiches!  I prepaid for two lunches and told him to accept the coupon for his awesome sandwiches if it was presented to him.

I walked my portfolio up to Gallery C and left it with Ms. Brown, a very cute gallery assistant, along with my one-of-a-kind, free lunch coupon for two. I was unceremoniously dismissed the very next day via an email stating that they were not interested in my work and that I could pick up my portfolio.

The rejection reads:

Thank you for bringing your artwork by the Gallery. Nancy looked it over and we will keep your information on file. At the present time all of our exhibits for the next year have been curated, and we do not have any spots for your style of work.

Please feel free to keep in touch and re-submit in the future.

Best of Luck,

Sugar Brown

Gallery C

P.S. The materials you left at the Gallery are at the front desk ready to be picked up. Thanks. 

I walked up to the gallery the very next day around lunch time and, lucky me; I was able to watch both Sugar and Nancy taking jumbo bites out of their FREE sandwiches. They were quite surprised to see me as they inhaled their freebie. The director (Nancy), through a mouth full of sandwich, said that she had a couple of questions about my art. I thought that was funny since there was no hint of any questions in that rejection email. I waved her off and asked for my portfolio back. Enjoy those sandwiches on me! 

There we go again with something free. People can’t resist. In my opinion, cashing in on my free lunch offer should have at minimum scored me a meeting with the director for some feedback. Good times!

When I was looking for and finally found my rejection email in my stack of stuff dated October 3, 2003, I also found my cover letter including the free offer as follows:

I would appreciate an opportunity to meet. Until then, please enjoy a complementary lunch for two at a local eatery—The Sandwich Joint!

The free coupon was included in my metal portfolio box.

Bergamot Station

“Sure, you can rent the attic.”

I spent a boatload of time visiting Bergamot Station in Santa Monica. It was an old train station depot converted into cool art galleries. There was one contemporary gallery in particular that I found worth approaching. The director was not interested in my work, but did offer up the attic space for me to rent. I think it was a 3-week rental costing in the $2,500-3,000 dollar range, plus a percentage of what I sold. What kind of crappy deal was that? You could kill yourself climbing the steep boat-deck stairway, and once up there, you felt like you were in a sauna.

That was really the last straw for me. It was time for me to just put my own work out there on the Internet and see what could happen. I decided to change my medium from one-of-a kind shadow box pieces to an interactive 24/7 website where the work could be presented quickly and clearly for anyone in the world to see. That’s where I would put my time and money: promoting myself.  

I spent over $2,500 dollars from 1993-2003 on supplies, research and PR. This doesn’t include another big chunk of costs for the materials for the shadow box, framing, Foam Core, assembly costs, glass, and Plexiglass.

Footnote: I found out recently that this gallery offering me the deal of a lifetime, BGH Gallery with its wonderful loft, no longer resides at Bergamot Station.

Corporate Blues. by Bruce Kurosaki. circa 1997