Chapter 1 I have always been interested in auctions. Oh, I do not mean prestigious auctions such as Christie's or Sotheby's. No, I don't. As an artist, I can't afford that. But I like these little auctions which are organized all around the country, selling mainly cheap things. The price of an object means nothing, by the way. It only depends on how much money people are ready to spend for it. And also, how many people want to it. If only one person is interested, the item will be cheap; but if thousands of people are, prices will be going higher and higher. Basically, it takes only two billionaires to sell a Gauguin 300 million dollars. The is a fight with our modern weapon: money. Art is a demand and supply business. What is painted on a canvas does not interest anybody. The signature matters, only the signature. Who is the artist? This is the only question. What you do is not important. It is who you are that is important. Without the fame, a Pollock or a Warhol should cost 5 dollars. It was the end of winter, but spring had not turned up, yet... A kind of unknown season. Nobody knew what kind of clothes they should wear. Weather was not cold, but it was not warm either. A puzzling season. I was on the way to the bakery and, as ever, I had a look at an old auction house, located not far from my home. The shopping window was always full of (...) https: //www.pinterest.com/tarnhelm_editions
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