All in all, the creative act is not performed by the artist alone.…The work of art is always based on the two poles of the onlooker and the maker. But the onlooker has the last word, and it is always posterity that makes the masterpiece.
— Marcel Duchamp

What exactly is the relationship between artists, their work, and the collectors of their work? The purpose of “Artist’s Perspective,” a new Art Lover’s Guide feature, is to provide artists’ viewpoints on this triangle of an affair.
In each issue, an artist will respond to a series of questions: Do you interact with buyers? Or do you wish you could? How does it feel to part with your work? In what way, if any, do you remain involved with the work once it’s sold?
Naturally, the relationship between an artist and his or her work is complex in terms of the ambivalent and inevitable nature of saying goodbye. With this feature, we hope to shed light, on behalf of the artist, on issues of separation, symbiosis, and ensuring that a work remains charged long after it’s left the studio.
For the premier installment of “Artist’s Perspective,” Art Lover’s Guide sat down with Volume 3 cover artist and painter extraordinaire, Julie Speed.

If you could have a conversation with each collector of your work, what would you say about your art or about yourself?
Feel free to laugh.
Do you interact with buyers of your work and/or offer studio visits?
I’m planning on having an open house during Chinati weekend this coming fall at the Marfa studio. In Austin, I haven’t really had an open open house, but collectors, friends, and friends of friends come by regularly to look at new work. Occasionally, museum or arts groups also visit.
How much, if any, history of each piece—how and why it was made—do you like to share with collectors?
I’ll talk ’til their ears fall off about “how.” But when it comes to “why,” I’m more interested in hearing what the viewer thinks.
Do you remain involved with the art once it’s sold?
It’s very important to me who has the work. I’m lucky to have an eccentric and interesting group of collectors. They are the type of people who are often willing to lend the work back for museum exhibitions, or who are forming a collection that will eventually go to a museum.
Have you ever been asked to consult on the installation of your work? Do you have any general advice in terms of the ways in which your pieces are installed?
Even if you could drag me out of my studio, which rarely happens until late at night and usually not without promise of a cocktail, there are professionals who will do a better job. I’d recommend calling Chris Caselli, an Austin photographer who also does art installation work. And I’d advise collectors to use museum glass when framing works on paper to cut down on glare and to use spots, not floods, on a dimmer switch to light the paintings. The colors pop more.
What pieces, if any, have you kept for yourself?
So far, I’ve only managed to keep two oil paintings for myself, “The Dogmatists” and “Intercession.” Actually, “Intercession” was sold, and I was able to later get it back. My plan is to start keeping more from the get-go. With the oil paintings, it’s very hard because I only do six or seven a year.
How does it feel to put a price on your work? Once you part with a piece, do you grapple with empty nest syndrome?
Supply and demand takes care of the pricing, so I don’t really have to decide about that. The empty nest thing, however, fills me with ambivalence. On the one hand, my ego is thrilled that people like the work enough to write a check for it. On the other hand, I hate to have to actually turn over the painting.
It’s the pause between projects that kills. It’s very difficult to stop and then start again, so I try to avoid that depression trap by never finishing everything at once. Vacations are difficult for me. I always keep something in the works.
Duchamp wrote, “All in all, the creative act is not performed by the artist alone.” Do you agree with this statement?
I agree. I’ve received all sorts of fascinating comments, carvings, songs, poems, even math from people in response to my work. A composer named Rob Deemer just sent me “Speedvisions for String Quartet,” which goes with four paintings. The music makes me see the paintings. I totally love it.
How would you describe the relationship between an artist and his or her work?
I don’t think there is any real relationship between who I am and what I paint. I paint with my eyes and my hands, and if my brain succeeds in bullying either one, then the work usually comes out flat and contrived, and I have to throw it away.
There’s a very weird tendency in America today to confuse “art” with “self-expression.”
What is it like to be in a room with your work on display?
Lots of light bulbs go off for me. When I’m having a show, seeing work together that I haven’t seen together before, I almost always find connections that I’d never seen or even thought of.
What advice would you give to a new collector?
Don’t follow the leader. The worst thing you can say about art is that it’s “hot.” That only means it’ll be cold really soon.

Julie Speed was born in Chicago and raised on the East coast. After dropping out of art school and a period of travel and intermittent employment (house painter, horse trainer, waitress, stock boy, farm worker, etc.), she landed in Austin in 1978. Since then, Speed has devoted herself to her artwork full time. She now has studios in both Austin and Marfa, Texas.
Speed’s etchings are available at Austin’s Davis Gallery and Flatbed Press, which has been pairing artists and master printers for the past 15 years. In 2004, the University of Texas Press published the artist’s monograph, Julie Speed: Paintings, Constructions, and Works on Paper, with essays by art historians Elizabeth Ferrer and Edmund P. Pillsbury. The book is available at major bookstores and on Amazon.com. More information about Speed and her work can be found at www.juliespeed.com.

Introduction and interview by Tobin Levy editor of Art Lover’s Guide, Volume 3.
Photos courtesy of Julie Speed.