Keith Haring Journals (35 page)

They found my baggage in New York. It should arrive today. Also my pieces at auction went for very good prices. (More on this when I throw away this pen, go to sleep, and wake up and continue writing.)

I find it kind of absurd that I am so aware of these things now, but I’ve come to learn the importance of knowing what’s going on in this area. Since my pieces are put into the auction market I have to deal with the situation, whether I like it or not. To just ignore it only makes it more of a “situation.” I still have not bought anything back myself, but I’ve begun to follow the auctions to at least find out if things have been sold and for how much. Especially since there are people out there who could try to affect my market by making it appear as if there was a general move to dump my stuff on the market, creating a kind of “stock market crash” where everyone follows. If people want to hurt my “market,” they can even create a false impression by overestimating the value of something so that when it doesn’t reach the estimate at auction it will appear as if they are losing value. This is what I was afraid of in this auction. There were several pieces—two wood reliefs and four drawings—which had much higher estimates than those for similar pieces in the last auction. So if they went low, it could look like they are not wanted anymore. The weird thing is that this affects the desire for my new work, so to ensure a market for the work I am doing now and the work I want to do in the future, I have to make sure that the older work is still in demand. What a strange cycle!

The other weird thing is that the work I did earlier is already in competition with the work I am doing now. I am 29, and I’ve been showing works internationally on the “gallery circuit” (i.e., art market) since around 1982. My things started appearing in auctions around 1984 and since then have been in many auctions. Unfortunately, many of the people who were buying my work originally in 1982 or ’83 were merely buying it as an investment. They could care less whether they liked it so long as it would make them money. I thought many of these people were assholes in the beginning, and naively sold them works that may not have been of great quality. They are now reselling all of these things and making much more money than I made originally.

This whole system sucks dick, but it is almost impossible to avoid. What young artist would not be seduced by the chance to sell work at the first opportunity? Also because the initial sales are instrumental in creating an interest in the work and creating an audience. Also, of course, I wanted to sell pictures instead of deliver house plants. So it is a vicious cycle. (1) You are singled out in the “group” critically by art critics and/or the public. (2) This creates an interest in your works in the public and among art dealers and galleries. (3) They realize that this means they can sell the work, so they offer you exhibitions. (4) People buy the work, which enables you to work more, buy bigger/better materials and work space, and support yourself without doing un-art-related work. (5) This also means your fellow artists no longer see you as part of the “group” since now you make money, so your entire social situation changes around you. (6) You now are immediately thrust into the art “market” since people begin to buy the work. (7) Many people buy the work because it is still very inexpensive since you are still relatively unknown and your prices are fixed accordingly. (8) The more work you sell, the more demand there is by word-of-mouth by the people who are “collecting” it. Many people begin to think of you as a risky investment, but an investment nonetheless. Since the work is still inexpensive they can afford this small risk. (9) You produce even more works since you now have more time, money and a new audience and, of course, more offers for exhibitions because of the growing interest and the new “market” for this new “rising” artist. (10) As the demand increases the prices begin to go up. (11) Because you are being collected and exhibited more critics and journalists begin to write about the work. The “hype” of the art world begins to escalate. (12) Everyone feeds off this, including you. (13) Eventually the works begin to appear at auction, since the prices have risen substantially and some of these “investors” are eager to “cash in” now before a possible loss begins to set in. (14) These people who were “speculative” collectors probably don’t believe in the value of the work in the first place and are eager to dump these things and make their next “risky investment” on some new “artist” they feel might be able to make them a few bucks. (15) Now the works at auction are in competition with the works you are still producing and a balance must be sustained. (16) The artist now must regulate his production to assure his ability to sustain this “balance.”

This is a “general” scenario. My specific case is a little different because of the added “situations” I have brought to the system that have confused and challenged the system itself. The addition of my “popular success” and my immersion in the popular culture and also the special projects that have been a fundamental part of my growth and life in the art world are now factors in my position in the art market. Most of these have affected my market strength in a negative way, similar to the way that what Andy did negatively affected his relationship to the market. So far I have sustained my strength without any artificial means. But it has been an uphill struggle, since my supporters are outnumbered by those who wish this pest would go away. But, like Andy, I will haunt their little world forever whether they like it or not.

This overall “situation” explains why I am interested in the auctions now. I cannot simply hope it will all go away if I ignore it. It won’t. And in this auction my standing was very good. All of the pieces seemed to be overestimated, which could have been bad if they’d failed to get the prices suggested in the catalogue. But the pieces went for even more than the top estimate, some drawings bringing up to $5,500. This is good considering that the same drawing in a gallery would cost $3,000 tops. The only piece that went for less than estimated was a piece by LA ROCK. It was listed in the catalogue as being by Keith H and LA ROCK, but there were no lines of mine on it. It even said in the catalogue that it was signed by LA and not by KH and LA. This drawing went for $1,500. That’s still O.K.

I haven’t had a chance to write since the early morning entry on October 9. The rest of that day turned out to be pretty eventful. After I stopped writing, Debbie and I went to pick up Jan at the train station—he came from Amsterdam to spend the weekend. We returned to the house and went with Yves and Debbie to Nice. First we went to visit Ben [Vautier], who has a house outside of Nice. It’s pretty cool; covered (on the front and one side) with paintings and objects, sort of like a sloppier, more European, older Kenny Scharf. Inside was even better, full of postcards on all the walls and pieces by him and others. He had a small Macintosh computer he was learning to use. He said he read the newspapers every day and had copies of
Le Monde
stacked all over the place to prove it. Everything seemed to be in boxes and files. He kept referring to it as his “archives.” He gave me some stickers and a poster that I drew on and gave back to him. Then he gave me a print that said simply, “no More Art—Ben,” and he wrote all over it. We stayed a while looking at everything and hearing stories. It was somehow very French. We drank some wine, ate some chicken wings and talked.

We left for Nice where we had an appointment at Galerie Ferrero, the gallery I had visited with Yves the day before which shows mostly only the work of Arman, but also Cesar and Ben, and had lots of odd antiques and prints from Picasso, Miró, Braque, etc. It is sort of a mish-mash of everything, but seemed to have a sensibility running through the whole mess. They had an incredible machine I had never seen before that could make photo prints instantly—similar to a Xerox machine, but doing very accurate reproductions on photo paper. Yves had an idea for me to paint my hand and make a small edition of prints of it. It sounded fun, so why not? There were two things I wanted very much to trade for. One was a Picasso etching of the artist and his model where the artist was fucking the model while still holding his brush and palette. The other was a stuffed alligator head ashtray holder that had a glass dome with two small crabs inside the glass. It was very strange and hard to resist.

So with a small Japanese brush and China ink I did a very detailed drawing on my left hand and printed photographically an edition of ten prints. Three APs and two PPs. I traded the nine prints and one PP for the Picasso and the alligator ashtray. I gave Yves a PP. It turned out really cool.

The ink was very durable and I kept it on my hand. We drove back to Monte Carlo and ate dinner and did photos with my hand and nude with Debbie, also nude, and Bea (the German girl) also nude. Jan took Polaroids. We took Ecstasy. The more the X kicked in the stronger the photos got until finally Yves was photographing me wearing only my leather jacket and lace panties and Adidas making out with Bea—wearing only black stockings, high heels and a garter belt.

I just finished reading Kurt Vonnegut’s new novel,
Bluebeard
. I think we’re flying over Russia. The flight to Tokyo from London makes one stop, in Moscow. I’m a little scared.

The layover in Moscow was interesting. You couldn’t see much from the air or in the airport. Pretty dismal and cold. They had a first-class lounge where they served me ice cream and tea. There were lots of magazines lying around but not many in English. The whole place was very “propaganda-looking”—things about Strategic Defense Initiative and lots of pictures of Russia, but all in a style that was very uncontemporary. It seemed like all the stereotypical ideas I had of the USSR. I considered making a “tag” in the toilet, but the ceilings had open slats which made me think there might be a hidden camera. We were happy to re-board the plane.

I was greeted at the door of the plane by a woman who was there to escort me through customs and make sure I was O.K. I was impressed. Someone on the plane must have alerted her that I was arriving and they considered me important enough to escort. That’s Japan for you . . . I asked her if she was also the one who got to greet Michael Jackson a few weeks ago and she said she was. Now I’m really impressed.

I spent all afternoon walking around, mostly buying fake KH T-shirts. They had the best ones, so far, at Hysteric Glamour. Blow-ups of Club DV8 shirts with Pop Shop wall photos printed all over the sleeves. Pretty weird! My favorite of the ones I bought is a good second-generation KH rip-off. There were a lot with just the Pop Shop logo. We haven’t even done that yet, but it’s a good idea.

Went to a new French restaurant that had just opened three days before. It was really cool inside. Sort of anthropomorphic bio high-tech. Got introduced to everyone. A cute girl who’s a new singing celeb in Japan came to meet us at the restaurant. She’s a big fan and exactly the kind of gorgeous Japanese girl I always thought I’d marry. Too bad I have absolutely no more interest in girls. We all went together to this other club that was designed by the guy who did
Bladerunner
. People had described it like the Palladium, but it’s way beyond that! Like the inside of a spaceship.

I got home around 2:30 AM and called Juan. He says he won’t come to Tokyo unless he gets a wedding band. Of course, he proceeds to tell me about how he can’t help being “attacked” by everyone in New York who wants to sleep with him. (What a terrible problem.) He’s convinced if he has a commitment from me he won’t be enticed to fuck around anymore. I’m not so sure. In reality I am not fucking around like he imagines I am. People do not throw themselves at me 24-7. I look, but so what? Nothing ever happens. I’m sure for him it’s different since he is a walking sex object. I’m real confused. I think I want to be independent sometimes, but if he would call me and say he was leaving for good and really do it, I think I would freak out.

I’ve never been good at this. I’ve never really understood love or had a relationship that went smoothly. I always seem to seek rejection and the more I am loved, the more I don’t want to accept it because I
want
to be hurt. I like to pity myself or something. Maybe it’s time for me to get married. I’m not sure I can live without Juan when it really comes down to it. I am really sickeningly jealous yet at the same time excited by the idea that he’s a sex object. The whole thing was too much like destiny. And you know you can’t fuck with destiny. So, he’s coming to Japan in two days and by the time we leave on October 30, I’ve got to either make a commitment or say goodbye forever. This is not the kind of thing that can be decided over the telephone.

Met Seiko at 8:30 AM and went to Tama City to meet my “staff” of volunteers and to see the trees I designed and the panels we’ll do the murals on. The trees were only made about six feet high, but still look O.K. They didn’t have the right kind of brushes, but everything is getting worked out. The bells are small metal bells instead of the ceramic bells we originally intended. Considering all the changes and the rain (they say a typhoon is coming) everything still has the potential to go great.