By Mark L. Smith

If you think that collecting art is about what you see with your eyes, think again. It’s about who you are in your soul. Sure, we want the art we own to appeal to our senses; that’s a given. But the works that stay with us—the ones we move lovingly from home to home and from wall to wall—those touch us in a place much deeper than our optic nerves.

The truth is, the art we love the most strums all our chords at once. It engages our eyes, our minds, our bodies, and our spirits. In fact, it reminds us that we are one whole creature whose several aspects are inseparable. It makes our entire being hum. That’s what I’m talkin’ about, works of art that are truly compelling, at least for oneself.

Some of us acquire art that commands the respect of the art experts or the art dealers, or of our friends and associates. But I have a hunch that most of us buy what we genuinely like, and what we and our families want to live with. If it’s respected by others or appreciates significantly in value, well, that’s lagniappe, a nice bonus.

So let’s assume you collect art primarily for deeply personal reasons. How do you go about finding it, acquiring it, presenting it, caring for it? Not so fast. Before you go art shopping, think honestly about where you are in the developmental phases of collecting—beginner, intermediate, or advanced. We all have to start somewhere, so there’s no shame or pride called for. But each phase involves distinct types of resources and generates specific kinds of collections.

For example, beginning collectors may be likely to buy art from an art fair or a local art gallery, or from an artist who is a friend or acquaintance. And their collections are probably oriented primarily to what looks good in their residences. Advanced collectors, in contrast, may buy at Sotheby’s or Christie’s in New York, and their residences may be custom designed around their art. This is not necessarily a collectors’ class structure, it is merely an index of experience. I know highly sophisticated collectors whose budgets are no larger than a rank beginner’s. It’s about gradually increasing your knowledge of the art you collect; in other words, becoming an “informed collector.” Some very modestly financed collectors have wound up giving outstanding collections to grateful museums. They simply educated themselves and bought wisely.

On the other hand, some of the most abysmal art collections I have seen have been collected by refined, extremely well-heeled people who should have known better. So, back to square one. Think about why you want to collect—for personal satisfaction, for home or office decoration, to create an estate for your heirs, to prepare an eventual gift to a museum, to invest, and so on. All legal reasons are legitimate; just be clear about why you want to collect. This will likely change over the years, as your experience and knowledge expand.

Next, think about the various kinds of collections; not that you must choose only one, but survey the field. Some collections are subject oriented, for example, ducks (still popular after all these years). At a print fair in New York, a man asked if I had any images of human skulls, which was all he collected. Some are technique or medium based: paintings, or photographs, or etchings. Some collections are built around a theme, such as marine, landscapes, the American Civil War, the African Diaspora, or outsider art. Time periods are popular—contemporary, Renaissance, 19th century, and so on. Geographically based collections are common: Japanese woodcuts, Peruvian textiles, Chinese pottery; place is often combined with medium. And, of course, an eclectic collection can be unified by its level of quality, like the Menil Collection in Houston: every object is top drawer. Ultimately, only quality and coherence matter.

A few last bits of advice: Educate yourself about the art you love. Read about it, become a docent, take classes, join an art group. Eventually, find yourself a dealer or two you trust, and exploit their expertise. Finally, acquire what I believe is the most lasting kind of art: “open” art. By that I mean art that invites you to participate with it in some significant way. Marcel Duchamp said that an art object is not finished until the viewer experiences it. Ideally, you collaborate with the artist. The art that stays with you, in your heart, for a lifetime, is the art that invites you in and encourages you to find some meaning that connects to your soul.

Happy hunting. Keep looking, keep learning, and don’t forget to stop and take a long, hard look at the art you already possess and love.

Smith, PhD, is an artist, art consultant, and the founding co-director and night watchman of Flatbed Press. All rights reserved.

Photos courtesy of Terrell Powell and Mark L. Smith.