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Polar bear with carrot

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Greetings from Albuquerque. The show is going true to form, which means that I am fighting for every dollar, talking, engaging, charming, doing whatever I can do to separate my clients from their precious lucre, with modest results so far.

One of my fellow dealers says that the superwealthy are buying, but the mere wealthy, not so much. We dealers have certainly tempered our own spending, unless the purchase is absolutely necessary, wonderful and a slam dunk. And dealer purchases have always powered the antique business engine.

Albuquerque is a tough town for me, being a pretty hardcore indian dealer show. These people are specialists and I am a swiss army knife. The people who do southwest 24/7 have a much better shot at such a show than I do, for one thing I depend on retail business and have never resonated that well with my peers in this particular world in a mercantile sense.  But they may only do two or three shows in a year and I pretty much do business all the time, so I must curtail the urge to whine. This is the specialists time, as I said. The buyers seem to be more object oriented than flat art oriented.

In the old days I could do 50 to 100,000 dollars in New Mexico, now I would be happy with a tenth of that. My July and December shows have been long cancelled, and I survive on a fraction of receipts.  Of course, my goals and aspirations have also been adjusted by this recession, now my only goal is to pay my bills every month and maybe take an annual vacation with my lovely wife. I used to be somebody, was the alpha male in Santa Fe but the worm turns and now I'm old news out to pasture.

I brought some really nice inventory and have a few people buzzing around an 18th century french painting and a Maynard Dixon drawing, so everything could get real good all of a sudden tomorrow.  I did make a nice pottery sale to a respiratory specialist and his R.N. wife.

Successful or not, I am having a really nice time with my dealer friends and Terry, the great promoter for the show who works her ass off to make the show the best it can be. Last night she took a bunch of us out to a remarkable sushi dinner at the Japanese Kitchen off of Louisiana. I could never believe that sushi prepared so far from the actual ocean could be so good. From the incredibly rich miso soup on, I knew that we were in for something special. Squid salad, gigantic kama, mussels, tray after tray of uni, maguro and hamachi, I didn't think that we could et half of it. But everyone came through like troopers in the end. And Terry picked up the tab, beyond the call of duty and much appreciated. I highly recommend this restaurant.

Met some really nice clients today, sold a civil war sword to an army major. We got into a nice rap about the asskissing necessary to get a promotion in the armed service and also the parallels between Afghanistan and Vietnam. Antique shows in New Mexico also offer people the opportunity to dress up in the weirdest cowboy outfits you have ever seen, caught this pink beauty with my telephone.  Or you will see people in full native getup, spectacles that if ever witnessed, would cause any true indians to erupt in a fitful paroxysm of laughter.

A moment of silence was held today for some dearly departed friends in the business, Skip Gentry, a long time friend who had a passion for Fred Harvey as well as Leon Taylor and Rich Hill and Tim Sweet. Brothers on the road. I thought it was a very classy and sincere interlude. I didn't know some of the other fellows that well but can tell you that everybody loved Skip.

The promoter threw a party at her shop Cowboys and Indians after the show but I ws a little burnt out on people and went back to my hotel.

Met up with some friends for a nice dinner at Cosmo, a tapas restaurant in the hip Nob Hill district.

I ordered a vodka gimlet and we all had a go at the menu.We had dates stuffed with feta and wrapped in bacon. Lollipop lamb chops with olive feta. Tiger Prawns in garlic. Grilled artichoke. hearts of palm salad. Queso fondito, the weakest dish of the night, served with rather stale and limp corn chips.

Finished the night off with a caramelized flan and vanilla ice cream.

The owner, Guillermo, a nice gentleman born in Puerto Rico, came out and introduced himself to us.  The Bob Dylan tattoo photo was taken off one of the server's forearms, the second time a Dylan tattoo has graced the blog, the other one last year from teacher Steve. Another Don't look back era Bob tattoo.  I like the genre but I understand if it is not your cup of meat.  Good night.