Glenn R Miller

At the book clubs I attend for Doorman Wanted, one topic invariably comes up: the role of art within the book. One reader asked the question in this form: Clearly, you love art. Were you an art history major?

That did my heart proud. But, no, I was not an art history major (Economics!). I interwove art throughout Doorman because it serves as a useful buttress to my main theme: perceptions and misperceptions around wealth. Just as we often – read: consistently – misjudge people based on their outward appearances and demeanors, we also place values on art often for, I would contend, the wrong reasons.

For example, a banana duct-taped to a white wall is considered high art NOT because of the fruit chosen, the adherence mechanism, or the whiteness of the wall, but, rather, because the price at an auction exceeded $6.2 million dollars. It must be good, right? And, it should be noted, the high bidder did not walk away with an art piece; the bidder simply purchased the right to duct tape a banana to any white wall and be able to call it by its name: Comedian, by Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan. Part of the reason I leave modern art museums with a vague discomfort is because I’m often not quite sure if I have looked at art that represents a progression in artistic expression or if, simply, my leg has just been pulled. The title of Cattelan’s banana piece would certainly indicate that someone, somewhere, is laughing, but it’s not me. Perhaps the wealthy bidder would have happily gone as high as $7 or $8 million dollars in order to be able to tell their funny story at cocktail parties.

In Doorman, there are three defined approaches to art: transactional (Mr. Stewart), emotional (Terry), and academic (Wendy). The borders between these three categorizations are indistinct and blurry. If I place an emotional value on an art piece, I may need the Mr. Stewarts of the world to secure ownership; and, if my studies of northern European Romantic artists of the early 19^th century develop into an emotional attachment to the art of that period, then a transaction may ultimately ensue. Duct-taped bananas, indeed!

The point I hoped to make in Doorman’s focus on perceptions around wealth is that, even with an amusing cocktail party anecdote, the wealthy bidder of Comedian may still not be the most interesting person in the room. That title just might go to the server with the tray of champagne flutes whom we barely acknowledge. It’s that person, I suspect, who has far better stories to tell.