Seeking a bit of real world inspiration for an upcoming garden project, Keith and I this last Sunday visited the Shin Zen Garden at Fresno’s Woodward Park. A lovely urban oasis within an oasis it was developed nearly 20 years ago, and as returning Fresno ex pats, this was our first visit. Certainly worth the effort to wander inside, it was nevertheless a bit rough around the edges. Of course, with anything the newness wears off, but here the maintenance wasn’t quite what it should have been, and our ‘Zen’ was marred by creeping neglect. On our way out, we saw the placard acknowledging donors, and Keith wondered aloud how many of them designated their funds be used not for construction, but endowed for maintaining in good order a lovely and lovingly designed garden.

One does wonder, and as we find ourselves getting older, we see very many other areas of the built environment, and not just locally, becoming decrepit at a faster rate than we are. Sad to see, and so unnecessary, if sufficient funds in the fundraising are endowed- but how infrequently this actually happens.

I suppose that the more grandiose the project the more it captures the imagination of prospective donors, whose own vanity extends no further than picturing a gallery, a foyer, a water feature, or even the wing of an entire building with their name emblazoned on the side or memorialized with a bronze plaque, but in that euphoria, the wing in a state of collapse or the water feature dry as a bone is not within their ken. Nor is it, typically, in the fund raisers’ spellbinding skill set- the construction of a grand edifice is a sexy inducement and prelude to reaching for the checkbook in the inner pocket. The mundane maintenance of the same is not- repainting the eventual peeling paint and graffiti outside and replacing worn out toilets inside are profoundly unsexy prospects.

Would that, in capital projects, the reach did not regularly exceed the grasp, and the eventual be ignored through underfunding or disregarding completely the necessity of endowed funds.  For a number of years now, England’s National Trust has cottoned on to the fact that, regardless of historic importance, visitor numbers and paid admissions do not support the upkeep on the properties in its care, and nothing is now accepted without an appropriate level of endowment to support it. I believe the general rule of thumb for the National Trust, and most wise charities of a similar stripe, is that an endowment is required that exactly matches the monetary value of the asset given in gift.

Times change, and the vogue charity and building project will always occlude what’s gone on before. But that’s the point- those things that are worthwhile remain so and will, properly endowed, be maintained and enjoyed despite being pushed temporarily into the shadows.

Still enjoying the memory of the recent Fresno Philharmonic concert, and reluctant to temper my thoughts or those I have imparted to others with any bit of nostalgia. Nostalgia is tiresome for those without the same set of life experiences, so I typically try to corral recollective thoughts to my own private musings- but one overarching reminiscence refuses to stay penned. Though risking reader ennui, it is this- what a great event it was for Keith and me to attend the Saturday evening concerts of former days, and follow it on with a late supper  and (too many) drinks in the Tower District. Often as not, we would repair to that inn of blessed memory the Daily Planet, where our carryings on were always overlooked by Ron waiting tables, Jim at the piano, and the redoubtable Hannah the proprietress. This is starting to suggest Keith and I did at the time enjoy a louche existence, and we did. One evening that stands out was one while in the company of a particularly randy friend of a certain age and with whom we planned to travel to London in the next few days. Amidst the anticipatory rapture of our impending departure, and helped along by a half dozen Manhattans, he asked a younger member of the wait staff if he would like to accompany us, his way paid for by our friend. The young man was taken aback, but regained enough composure to ask Hannah’s advice. She told him in our hearing that he would be a fool not to go. Bless her- while not necessarily sage, she was always the daring one.

Not really trying to out anyone, but so much of what we enjoyed post concert was driven by what nearly any thoughtful person would describe as the Tower District’s gay renaissance of the 80’s and through the 1990’s. With a large gay population in the Tower District and the patronage- and ownership- of so many of the businesses along Olive Avenue, the entire neighborhood blossomed. It was a fun place to live, and there was always something to do, someone to see, and somewhere to go. Even the orchestra concerts, as the raison d’être and critical component of an evening of wonderful fun, are now rather diminished with- trust me in this- very many fewer gay attendees.  One of my faculties that still works at full strength is, I say parenthetically, my ample complement of gaydar.

With Keith and me transitioning back into the old burg, the question is now begged- where has everyone gone? I do miss the half closed eyes of the famed ‘nudes on ‘ludes’ mural in the Daily Planet. I have heard rumors that the Painted Table, the catering venue that has taken over the old Daily Planet space, will at some point open for restaurant meals. Believe me, we’ll be there, and we’ll behave- for ten minutes, or until the first round of Manhattans are consumed, whichever comes first.

To relieve those of you on tenterhooks, the young man did not accompany our friend to London. When we returned from abroad and repaired to the Daily Planet some weeks later we found the would-be traveler no longer employed there. When asked his fate, Hannah just rolled her eyes. Potential tragedy averted, perhaps, but it makes for a good story. We look forward to other opportunities in the Tower District to engender many more good stories. Who knows? The flown ‘guppies’ may return.

We were pleased to attend the Fresno Philharmonic’s program this last weekend. Entitled ‘Bolero’, it was one in a series of concerts designated ‘Masterworks’ featuring artists and works of particular note. Nothing on this last program was short of entertaining, and the guest artist Charles Ramirez who performed Rodrigo’s ‘Concierto de Aranjuez’ gave a rendition that was, appropriate to the series, masterful. A delightful surprise was finding Jose-Luis Novo on the podium. He provided some extempore commentary during the concert that was funny and insightful, and based on the response of both the orchestra and the audience, he’d be a worthy candidate to replace outgoing music director Theodore Kuchar.

With a full and appreciative house at the Saroyan Theater, it was almost like the good old days, my good old Philharmonic days, anyhow, truncated when we moved away from Fresno 20 years ago. Almost, or should I say reminiscent, because so many of those in attendance, and so many of those acknowledged in the program were to an uncomfortably large extent those same folk who were orchestra supporters from the time I served on the board in the early 1990’s. God bless them, they’ve kept one of our local treasures alive, but I must say, looking across the orchestra section of the hall, what I took in was a welter of white hair. When amidst a company out of which I find myself on the cusp of youth, one can only say that it is a shall we say mature company indeed.

This of course begs a question I’m certain the staff and directors of the Fresno Philharmonic  grapple with daily, how to keep the orchestra attendees at least a continuing body, and hopefully a swelling one. With Fresno’s population burgeoning, one wouldn’t think this would be a problem. Since the time I served on the board, the local population has nearly doubled, and one would expect at least some kind of incremental increase in attendance, funding, and services for the orchestra members.

Well, something(s) to ponder with thankfully a loyal cadre of supporters and attendees of still sufficient numbers who will doubtless happily soldier on, preserving- and promoting- what is surely an ornament for the community. I’m hopeful that very many others will sooner rather than later cotton on, hoick themselves up from in front of the TV and discover what glories are to be found at a Fresno Philharmonic concert.

Skate’s Market Research is reporting on how the major public components of the art market fared for 2014. The short answer is, not good, and the worst, according to Skate’s, since 2005. This would be particularly worrying for Sotheby’s, since in 2005 it was just trying to dig itself out of the morass of the price fixing scandal that sent  Sotheby’s chairman Alfred Taubman and CEO Dede Brooks to jail. In precise terms, at December 31, 2014, a share of Sotheby’s is worth 18.8% less than it was on January 1, 2014.

I had this last July written about China’s Poly Group as a possible, and as it seemed then, likely suitor for London based Bonhams, the third major international house behind Sotheby’s and Christie’s. By mid August, however, nothing more was heard on the subject. Based on the latest figures, however, Poly Group has lost nearly 28% of its value for the year, and one must surmise that the company couldn’t afford Bonham’s.

One other company I had written about was the Stanley Gibbons Group, whose significant acquisition this past year included venerable West End dealer Mallett. Although fairly flush with investor cash that allowed the acquisition, the company nevertheless lost nearly 23% of its value on the year.

While we’re all of us entranced by the occasional extraordinary consignments of Chinese imperial porcelain and European Impressionism and American contemporary art, it occludes the fact that all these businesses must slog along whether they have these elusive consignments or not. For a white, the major houses were limiting their consignments to amounts in excess of $5,000, which, frankly, seems little enough. Lately, though, with links with eBay and so-called design sales, what’s on offer is a duke’s mixture of bottom end material that no member of the accredited trade would ever have on offer. Interestingly, lately I’ve received customer satisfaction surveys from a couple of the salesrooms asking me to rate my purchase experience that for all the world are impossible to tell from the same thing I get after I have my car serviced.

With market cap falling,  Sotheby’s CEO Bill Ruprecht on his way out and Christies CEO Steven Murphy gone already, one wonders  about the fate of what was formerly the wholesale part of the trade in art and antiques. I hope that, whilst thrashing around looking for revenue and profit enhancement- and not finding it- the major players in the international market for art and antiques will retrench to their halcyon roots, and leave the retail market to the tender mercies of the accredited dealer.

News reports indicate Sotheby’s long time CEO Bill Ruprecht will leave the company as soon as a replacement is found. Although it is reported to be by his own choice, his contentious relationship with board and major shareholders makes his ‘consensual’ departure appear not ulike the prescient maidens of the village who offer themselves to the advance guard in order to seek protection from the ravages of the invading horde.

Up to this point, and presumably at the prompting of activist board members, Sotheby’s has established once again an online partnership with eBay- despite the dismal failure of a similar partnership some years ago, established a bricks and mortar presence in China, and offering aggressive advances to would be consigners in an effort to attract the  best consignments. This begs the question, to descend to the vernacular, how’s that working for you?

Not well, I have no doubt. As well as the experience with eBay, Sotheby’s nearly sunk itself not so many years ago by offering inordinate advances, only to find on sale day the consigned item fell well short of achieving a hammer price above what was advanced against it. Hard to explain this profound a misstep to the bank that provided the financing, hard on the operating statement of course, and, ultimately, hard to explain to shareholders.

We do trade with Sotheby’s from time to time, and as it happens attended a round of sales in New York just a couple of weeks ago. Although certainly not privy to any aspect of the saleroom that cannot be garnered by anyone else who reads their financial statements, I can tell you that the premises are crawling, absolutely crawling with staff. I would imagine that Sotheby’s does its best to mine the available cadre of interns from the art history departments of Columbia, CUNY, and as far afield as Princeton and Yale, but for the most part, staff are paid- not well, perhaps, but enough to earn their daily crust and exist without undue privation in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I know for a fact that the ax has fallen on the necks of a fair number of senior staffers over the last couple of years, but their departure has not made any noticeable dent in the legions of folk there earning a living.

I suppose what I mean to get at is, while profitability is achieved through a confluence of revenue and cost control- what we call pouring cash in at the top at a faster rate than it can leak out the bottom- the auction house business is an extraordinarily expensive business to be in. Moreover, it is an aspirational business- Sotheby’s is not a provisions market. It has never, nor have we for that matter, ever sold anything anyone actually had to have to get along in life. What they sell, and what we sell, are luxury goods offered as only one of a number of discretionary purchases by which the wealthy may indulge themselves.

A few years ago, and apropos of our tenth year in business, Keith and I spent some little while working up an economic and demographic profile of our client base. While I’ll coyly tell you that the precise components of our typical buyer are proprietary information, I can tell you that, based on our findings, we estimated that those individuals who fit it numbered around 50,000- in the world! To say that we, and Sotheby’s, and Christie’s, and Bonham’s, and every other member of the accredited art and antiques trade access a limited buyer pool is to make an extreme understatement. And do I have to say that this class of buyer is savvy? Believe me, they know what they want, what they want to pay, and where- anywhere in the world- it is available. I don’t think a local bricks and mortar outlet or dumbed down accessibility through eBay is necessary for the buyer who can travel anywhere in their Hawker 4000 and whose PA’s earn more than President Obama.

While of course any business wants to always appear to be in and ready for business, the efforts of Sotheby’s activist board and investors that ultimately resulted in the resignation of Bill Ruprecht will amaze me if they prove successful.  In the short term, I suppose they have, however- Sotheby’s stock rose 7% the day Ruprecht’s departure was announced.