123: Kirk Kerkorian – letter

March 17, 2012

Tracinda Corporation
attn: Kirk Kerkorian
Beverly Hills, CA

Dear Mr. Kerkorian:

I’ve read that you’re a private person who doesn’t relish the public eye, so I thank you for taking a moment to read an unsolicited letter. I take the liberty of writing because I see in you a skill to turn nothing into something great, and am looking for a way to have some of that skill rub off on me. Your astounding success has been a mixture of hard work, resources, and a knack for seizing opportunity, with a little bit of luck thrown in and, last not least, help from some people along the way. You’re clearly someone who has had a great impact on our country, having literally made an oasis out of a desert, but you havent done it alone.

I’m a musician and an artist, and one of my current projects is called “Make an Artist a Millionaire.” The primary method of the project is to get one million people to donate one dollar, which has proved difficult, but not unfruitful. The purpose is to collect and invest the million, enabling me to live off the interest and to achieve the ultimate goal: to buy back time to work on my artistic endeavors without the need for a day job. Time is money, but for artists especially, money is time. How would you like to help me become a millionaire?

This is not an investment opportunity in the strictest sense, but a request for a donation. Why would a businessman like yourself be interested in something that doesn’t yield a return to you? I have a good answer to this, so bear with me. I grew up lower middle class in Pennsylvania and got my first job when I was 12, in my moms bookstore. I played music and developed a visual art practice while washing dishes in high school, then while shucking oysters to help pay for college. Though the progress has been slow, I’ve had some success, and given and received more joy from music and art than from anything else in life. I still work hard all day at my day job, and then into the evening on my own projects, but the job saps most of my energy and focus, which feels squandered on other peoples business. I have more ideas and plans than ever but, frankly, the arts is one hell of a line of work to be in if you want to realize those ideas.

My research suggests that you are someone who views money as a way to create opportunities, as an instrument of change. For an artist, on the other hand, money is something that time and ideas and artistic production in general must be translated into, in order for that production to continue. A completely free mental attitude and free time are necessary to create art (at least for me). The process by which this freedom is converted into cash on the table is vast and complex and, in short, it stinks.

Money is both a necessary tool for, yet non-essential byproduct of, making art. Artists are, in some sense, trapped in a market sector that doesn’t go by the same rules as the rest of the market. It seems like one of the few areas where you can be successful and not make a living. For example:

  • Fine art: artworks are made on spec, then consigned to a gallery which will give the artist–if the work sells–50% of the proceeds.
  • Music: the sale of physical recordings is falling sharply, while their price goes up; digital files, when they are not shared freely, are sold by outlets like iTunes; royalties from digital sales, when paid at all, are anywhere from 70% to 5% of their value.
  • Writing: pieces and books are made on spec, the writer receives–in the best possible deal–50% of the profit.

None of this is your problem–you didn’t make the rules of business. But it at least explains why an artist would be driven to create a crazy scheme like this where he writes letters seeking a patron: instead of playing by these rules, I’m breaking them. I’m not interested in money for consuming things like cars and clothes and fine wine, but for producing and creating. If there’s one thing that you and I, artist and businessman, have in common, its that we look at money as a means.

At the same time, I recognize that the causes you’ve contributed to have been the worthiest possible: disaster relief, education, hospitals, and so on. And that they benefit the many and not merely the few. In a long life of exercising great power and effecting change, there’s one thing you probably never though you could do: invest in one person to give him the power to produce and to be a dynamic member of his cultural community, and not just a cog.

Thanks for your time, and I’d love to hear your thoughts, this project isn’t confined to yes or no answers.

Best,
Dan Nelson

123: Kirk Kerkorian – info

Before going through the Forbes 400 list in roughly strictly reverse order, I’ll start with the oldest of its members (for obvious reasons that will be left unsaid due to propriety), one of whom is Kirk Kerkorian. Kerkorian looks like he will be a tough nut to crack. Though very generous to charities and to UCLA, he’s very private and seems to have no particular interest in art. Thinking about ways to approach him made making a list of Why the Rich Give Money seem like a good exercise. Here are some reasons to start with:

  • Recognition
  • Belief in a cause
  • To help
  • Tax Purposes (wealthy folks please weigh in, is this valid?)
  • To be instrumental/a mode of creation

If these were the only reasons in existence, and it had to be one only, I’d pick #5 for Kerkorian. At the same time, I frankly don’t see much creativity or anything else going on in the purchase and resale of real estate, beyond making money. Given the daring and seat-of-pants nature of his early life (and this trend of an interesting early life preceding an apparently bland business life may turn out to be a trend with those on the list), it’s puzzling that he should become just a real estate developer, if only because it seems like a dull profession.

The following is my condensed edit of his Wikipedia entry, with tidbits from newspaper articles on him.

Kerkor “Kirk” Kerkorian is an American businessman who is the president/CEO of Tracinda Corporation, a private holding company based in Beverly Hills, California. Kerkorian is known as one of the important figures in shaping Las Vegas and, with architect Martin Stern, Jr. the “father of the mega-resort.”

Kirk Kerkorian was born on June 6, 1917 in Fresno, California, to Armenian immigrant parents. Dropping out of school in 8th grade, he became a fairly skilled amateur boxer under the tutelage of his older brother, fighting under the name “Rifle Right Kerkorian” to win the Pacific amateur welterweight championship.

In 1939, he met Ted O’Flaherty, for whom he installed water boilers. O’Flaherty was taking flying lessons, and Kerkorian took a guest seat one day and was converted on the views of the Californian coast. Sensing the approach of World War II and not wanting to join the infantry, he learned to fly at the Happy Bottom Riding Club in the Mojave Desert. In exchange for flying lessons from pioneer aviatrix Pancho Barnes, he agreed to milk and look after her cattle.

On gaining his commercial pilot’s license in six months, Kerkorian learned that the British Royal Air Force was ferrying Canadian-built planes over the north Atlantic to Scotland. The Mosquito’s fuel tank carried enough fuel for 1,400 miles, while the trip directly was 2,200 miles. Rather than take the safer Montreal–Labrador–Greenland–Iceland–Scotland route (although, going further north could mean the wings icing and distorting, and the plane crashing); Kerkorian preferred the direct “Iceland Wave” route which blew the planes at jet-speed to Europe — but it wasn’t constant, and could mean ditching. The fee was $1,000 per flight, but the statistics were that only one in four completed the journey. In May 1944, Kerkorian and his Wing Commander J.D. Woolridge rode the wave and broke the old crossing record. Woolridge got to Scotland in six hours, 46 minutes; Kerkorian, in seven hours, nine minutes. In two and a half years with RAF Ferry Command, Kerkorian delivered 33 planes, logged thousands of hours, traveled to four continents and flew his first four-engine plane.

After the war, having saved most of his wages, Kerkorian bought a Cessna. He worked as a general aviation pilot, and made his first visit to Las Vegas in 1944. After spending much time in Las Vegas during the 1940s, Kerkorian quit gambling and in 1947 bought Trans International Airlines, which was a small air-charter service which flew gamblers from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. He then bid on some war surplus bombers, using money on loan from the Seagrams family.  He operated the airline until 1968 when he sold it for $104 million to the Transamerica Corporation.

In 1962, Kerkorian bought 80 acres in Las Vegas, across The Strip from the Flamingo, for $960,000. This purchase led to the building of Caesars Palace, which rented the land from Kerkorian; the rent and eventual sale of the land to Caesars in 1968 made Kerkorian $9 million.

Married three times, Kerkorian met his second wife Jean Maree Harbour-Hardy at the Thunderbird Casino. Ms. Harbour-Hardy, an accomplished choreographer and dancer from England, traveled the world instructing dance troupes. By chance, they met and fell in love while she was sent to check opportunities to choreograph a performance in Las Vegas. His most enduring marriage (1954–84) produced Kerkorian’s two daughters, Tracy and Linda. The name of Kerkorian’s personal holding company – Tracinda Corporation – is a portmanteau of the two daughters’ names. Although divorced, they remain close friends and confidants. Ms. Harbour-Hardy Kerkorian is financially successful in her own right.

In 1967, he bought 82 acres of land on Paradise Road in Las Vegas for $5 million and, with architect Martin Stern, Jr., built the International Hotel, which at the time was the largest hotel in the world. The first two performers to appear at the hotel’s enormous Showroom Internationale were Barbra Streisand and Elvis Presley. Presley brought in some 4,200 customers every day for 30 days straight, breaking all attendance records in the county’s history. Kerkorian’s International Leisure also bought the Flamingo Hotel.

After he purchased the MGM movie studio in 1969, Kerkorian and Stern opened the original MGM Grand Hotel and Casino, larger than the Empire State Building and the largest hotel in the world at the time it was finished. In 1986, Kerkorian sold the MGM Grand hotels in Las Vegas and Reno for $594 million to Bally Technologies. The Las Vegas property was subsequently renamed Bally’s. Spun off from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, MGM Resorts International owns and operates many prime properties, including the Bellagio, the current MGM Grand resort complex, The Mirage, Mandalay Bay, and the newly completed CityCenter in Las Vegas.

Beginning in 1969, Kerkorian distanced himself from MGM’s movie studio arm. In 1979, Kerkorian issued a statement claiming that MGM was now primarily a hotel company; however, he did expand the film library and production system with the purchase of United Artists in 1981. In 1986, he sold the studios to Ted Turner, which initiated a fifteen-year period of financial turmoil for the struggling studio. In 2005, Kerkorian finally sold MGM to a consortium led by Sony. He retained a 55% stake in MGM Mirage. In May 2009, following the completion of a $1 billion dollar stock offering by MGM Mirage, Kerkorian and Tracinda lost their majority ownership of the gaming company.

His involvement with the American auto industry began in 1995, when with the assistance of retired Chrysler chairman and CEO Lee Iacocca, Kerkorian staged a takeover attempt on the Chrysler Corporation. Chrysler’s management treated the takeover as hostile, and after a lengthy battle, Kerkorian canceled his plans and sold his Chrysler stake in 1996. In 2007, with Chrysler now owned by Daimler-Benz, Kerkorian made a $4.58 billion bid for the Chrysler Group. After a bidding competition, 80% of the Chrysler arm of Daimler-Chrysler was sold to Cerberus for $7.4 billion.

Kerkorian’s short-lived third marriage (1999) was to professional tennis player Lisa Bonder, 48 years his junior, which under a prenuptial agreement lasted only one month. He subsequently was involved in a breach of privacy suit filed against him by Steve Bing. Kerkorian claimed Bing was the father of Bonder’s daughter, which was later established by DNA testing. On August 10, 2006, the LA Times reported that Kerkorian’s attorneys were being sued by Bonder because of their connection to former high-profile private investigator Anthony Pellicano, who is currently serving a fifteen-year prison sentence for running a wiretapping scheme. Bonder’s attorney alleges that Kerkorian’s lawyers hired Pellicano to wiretap telephone calls illegally between him and Kerkorian’s ex-wife in order to gain a tactical advantage in the divorce proceedings.

Kerkorian once owned 9.9 percent of General Motors. According to press accounts from June 30, 2006, Kerkorian suggested that Renault acquire a 20 percent stake in GM to rescue GM from itself. On November 22, 2006 Kerkorian sold 14 million shares of his GM stake (it is speculated that this action was due to GM’s rejection of Renault and Nissan’s bids for stakes in the company as both of these bids were strongly supported by Kerkorian). His further liquidation of stock over the next three years helped precipitate GM’s bankruptcy in June 2009.

Kerkorian began buying Ford Motor Company stock in April 2008, and spent about $1 billion to accumulate a 6% stake in the automaker. By October 2008, the investment had lost two thirds of its value, and he began selling. On October 21, Tracinda sold the 7.3 million Ford shares at an average price of $2.43, and said it planned to cut further its existing 6.1 percent stake in Ford, for a potential total loss of more than half a billion dollars. Kerkorian sold his remaining stake in Ford in December 2008.

Kerkorian has a penchant for expensive clothes (especially custom-made outfits by Italian designer Brioni), but drives relatively low cost vehicles such as a Pontiac Firebird, Jeep Grand Cherokee and a Ford Taurus.

Kerkorian splits his time between his residences in Beverly Hills, California and Las Vegas. The richest person in Los Angeles, he may also be the most private. He almost never gives interviews and seldom appears in public. Even though his charitable foundation has dispensed more than $200 million to schools, hospitals, non-profits, companies, and charities, he has never allowed anything to be named in his honor.

Kerkorian founded the Lincy Foundation in 1989 in response to the devastating earthquake in Armenia. 25,000 people died in the earthquake as two major cities and 100 villages were completely destroyed. The substantial contributions from the newly formed Lincy Foundation provided housing to thousands of displaced individuals and families and reconstruction of roads and other key infrastructure.

In 2011, The Lincy Foundation gave $200 million to UCLA to create the “Dream Fund at UCLA”. He received the Mesrob Mashdots Medal from the Republic of Armenia for his services to Armenia and its people in 2001.

400: Sanford Weill – letter

Dear Mr. Weill:

I’m writing to you because of your love for and support of the arts.  If one thing hasn’t changed for thousands of years, it is the reliance of the arts on the patronage of the generous, and your work with universities, Sonoma State, Carnegie Hall, and classical music in general is impressive, and much needed. It’s individuals like you who help people like me spend their youth in the cheap seats at the Baltimore Opera and the Met soaking up Verdi and Mozart.

I’m a musician and an artist in Portland, Oregon, and one of my current projects is called “Make an Artist a Millionaire.” Until recently, the method of the project was to get one million people to donate one dollar, which has proved difficult, but not unfruitful. The money is being saved, not spent, since the purpose is to collect and invest it, enabling me to live off the interest and to achieve the ultimate goal: to free up time to work on my artistic endeavors without the need for a day job. Time is money, but for artists especially, money is time. How many works have suffered, or never been created at all for lack of time? How would you like to help me become a millionaire?

You might ask, “Why do you, a person with a job and only the needs of an individual, deserve a donation?” I grew up lower middle class in Pennsylvania and got my first job when I was 12, in my mom’s bookstore. I played music and developed a visual art practice while washing dishes in high school, then while shucking oysters to help pay for college. Though the progress has been slow, I’ve had some success, and given and received more joy from music and art than from anything else in life. I still work hard all day at my day job, and then into the evening on my own projects, but the job saps most of my energy and focus, which feels squandered on other peoples’ business. And now, just as I have more unrealized ideas and plans than ever before, and my band has reached a pinnacle, my job requires me to leave Portland, and probably spells the end of a very, very special collaboration between four people.

It’s up for debate (and I’d love to hear your opinion about this), but the fact that finance is a great way to earn a living and the arts is often a lousy way is just a matter of chance. They both bring value to human life, both require an enormous amount of work and dedication, as well as talent honed by training. Businesses and the people that depend on them could not function without investment; and the spirit would not be human without culture. Wouldn’t you agree that life would be impoverished indeed without Beethoven? I can’t explain the inequity of compensation between the arts and business, I can only recognize it and look for ways to beat it.

Enclosed is a gift (and proof that I’m an artist!), one of a series of my “24 Illustrations of Schubert’s “Winterreise”” song cycle. This print illustrates the song “Gute Nacht.” I learned about Schubert while studying music at St. John’s College (the Great Books school), and still think his songs beat John Lennon’s any day. This is one small-scale example of the kind of commissioned work I could make for you in return for your generosity.

I get out to the east coast when I can to visit family and would love to meet you in New York if you’d be interested, we might have a lot to talk about! I hope this letter finds you in good health. Thanks for your time in reading it.

Best,
Dan Nelson

400: Sanford Weill – info

Sanford Weill strikes me as a pretty nice guy, and profiles of him emphasize his commitment to classical music. I have a feeling the amount of giving he has done to cultural institutions will be a rarity among members of the Forbes 400, and my letter to him will rely heavily on our shared appreciation for music. My approach to Weill will focus on the notion of patronage, and the importance of artists having support in advance to execute work, rather than hoping for success later in life. The following is my condensed edit of his Wikipedia entry, with tidbits from newspaper articles on him.

“He was born on March 16, 1933 and raised in Brooklyn, New York. He married his wife Joan shortly after graduating from Cornell University in 1955. Weill had joined Air Force ROTC while in college and planned to be a pilot, but cutbacks in defense spending canceled his military career, and he went to work as a $35-a-week runner for the New York stockbrokers Bear Stearns. He quickly moved to work in the office and became a broker himself.

In 1960, Weill and three partners started the small brokerage firm of Carter, Berlind, Potoma & Weill. Over the next 20 years, Weill led the brokerage through 15 acquisitions, building it into the financial powerhouse Shearson, the second largest company in the securities industry. He sold Shearson to American Express in 1981 for $930 million. Weill became President of American Express, whose directors specifically hoped he would be able to turn around their failing insurance operation, Fireman’s Fund. Although Weill succeeded in this goal, he became frustrated with the corporate culture at American Express and attempted unsuccessfully to buy Fireman’s for himself. In 1985, he resigned from American Express.

At age 53, Weill, although wealthy, was out of work and thwarted in his efforts to find a job. In 1986 he traveled to Minneapolis to persuade Control Data to spin off its subsidiary, Commercial Credit, in an IPO (initial public offering) worth $850 million. Control Data sold 82 percent of the company to the public, Weill took over as CEO, investing $7 million of his own money. Besides Commercial Credit’s lending operation, Weill had acquired its subsidiary, a property and casualty insurance company called Gulf Insurance.

By 1988, Weill and his team had turned Commercial Credit around and acquired Primerica Corp., for $1.5 billion, along with its holdings, the brokerage Smith Barney and the A.L. Williams insurance company, which Weill renamed Primerica Financial Services (PFS). The whole conglomerate of brokerage, commercial credit, and insurance operations would continue under the name Primerica Corp.

Over the next several years, Weill’s Primerica Corp. absorbed the consumer lending operations of Barclays American/Financial, acquired receivables and branches from Landmark Financial Services, 27 percent of Travelers Insurance, and regained control of Shearson, buying it from American Express for $1.2 billion. With Shearson under its belt, Weill’s Primerica purchased the remaining shares of Travelers with $4 billion in stock. Weill merged Shearson with Smith Barney. Travelers Group, as the resulting parent company was called, included brokerage, term insurance, consumer finance, property-casualty insurance, life insurance, money management, and investment banking operations. In 1996, Weill acquired the property and casualty operations of the insurance provider Aetna for $4 billion.

Throughout his career, Sanford Weill ran his businesses like an owner. He avoided consultants and got to know his company by getting to know people at all levels of the business. All of Travelers’ employees were encouraged to own stock in the company. Senior managers received up to 25 percent of their pay in stock, which they were not allowed to sell for two years.

In September 1997, Travelers paid $9.1 billion in stock to acquire Salomon, Inc., the parent company of the investment bank Salomon Brothers. Weill merged Salomon with Smith Barney to create the second largest securities firm in the world. In April 1998, Weill announced the biggest coup of all: Travelers Group would merge with Citicorp, the parent company of Citibank, to create Citigroup, Inc. At the time, Citicorp was the world’s largest supplier of credit cards, and Citibank was the second largest bank in the United States. On the morning the planned merger was announced, the value of the companies’ combined stock increased by $13 billion to $83.6 billion.

Weill had already overcome significant regulatory hurdles to merge his insurance businesses with investment banks and brokerages, but the merger of Travelers with Citibank faced a seemingly insurmountable legal obstacle: the 1933 Glass-Steagall Banking Act, which strictly separated investment banks and commercial banks. In the 1980s, banks and insurance companies had won limited regulatory waivers from the Glass-Steagall restrictions, and many in the financial services industry called for their complete repeal. Weill and Citicorp Chairman John S. Reed decided to force the issue. They went ahead with their plan and secured a waiver whereby the temporary merger of the companies would be permitted, pending congressional action.

In 1999, both houses of Congress passed the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Financial Services Modernization Act by overwhelming margins, and President Clinton signed the act into law. The measure won bipartisan support by reforming certain discriminatory banking practices, such as the “redlining” of low-income neighborhoods, while repealing the Glass-Steagall restrictions on the intermingling of commercial banks and investment banks, and of banks with insurance companies. Gramm-Leach-Bliley permitted the completion of the Citigroup merger, and set off a wave of similar combinations in the financial services industry. Some economists believe this deregulation contributed to the credit crisis that engulfed the world economy in 2007.

Few considered this possibility in 1999, as Citigroup became the largest financial services company in the world, with 100 million customers in 100 countries. Under Weill’s leadership, Citigroup achieved unprecedented growth, earning $13 billion in 2001. New subsidiaries were acquired or created all over the world, particularly in Asia and the newly liberated economies of Eastern Europe. Weill stepped aside as CEO in 2003 and retired from the Chairmanship in 2006.

Weill served as a Cornell University Trustee for many years, and in 1998 he endowed Cornell’s medical school, now known as the Weill Cornell Medical College. As chairman of the Board of Overseers of Weill Cornell Medical College and an emeritus member of the Board of Trustees of Cornell University, Weill orchestrated a $400 million donation to Cornell, of which he and his wife personally contributed $250 million. In June 2007, he endowed the Weill Institute for Cell and Molecular Biology at Cornell, housed in a new life science building named Weill Hall.

In May 2003, he received the Baruch Medal for Business and Civic Leadership, presented by Baruch College for his work in public education and his accomplishments in business. He is currently the chairman of the Board of Trustees of the National Academy Foundation, a non-profit he founded in 1982. NAF supports career-themed academies in the areas of finance, hospitality and tourism, information technology and engineering in over 500 high schools across the United States. He is also currently the Chairman of the Board of Carnegie Hall and is an avid champion of classical music in the United States.

In September 2006, Joan and Sanford Weill Hall was dedicated at the University of Michigan. The building is home to the Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy. Weill donated $5 million towards the construction of the building and an additional $3 million to endow the position of the dean of the school.”

400 to 1

I’ve just begun the next phase of the “Make an Artist a Millionaire” project, and the working title is “400 to 1.” The project entails writing a letter to each of the people on the Forbes 400 list (i.e. the wealthiest individuals in the US) and asking them to donate to MAAAM. Collaborating on this project will be my stepmom, who has a lot of experience and success in university development. It was she, in fact, who planted the seed for “400 to 1″: after listening to me describe MAAAM, she made the offhand comment “Honey, it would be easier for you to get one person to write you a check for a million dollars thatn to get a million people to each give you a dollar.”

What at first seemed simply like a euphemism for “your project will never succeed” grew into, if not a more effective approach to getting the million, at least an interesting challenge. More interesting than asking people over and over for a dollar. Rather than sending a form letter to each of the Forbes 400, I’ll research each one and craft a personalized plea. The project seemingly will be more about sussing out human nature and understanding how to get through to the kind of person who, on the surface, couldn’t be more different from the average artist: the business person. The same challenge of asking for something in return for nothing that exists on the lower end of the scale of quantity–$1–will presumably be amplified many times in approaching millionaires and billionaires. So, like many of my projects, I’m really taking on the impossible, with the odds stacked against me.

Almost certain failure means a greater chance for glory, right? As I’ve always suspected, though, the real matter of the MAAAM project is the psychological aspect. People give up small amounts of money all day every day, willingly and unwillingly. The question is, why do they do it? The least that could emerge from “400 to 1″ is that we learn a great deal about human nature and about the society we currently live in. As I said, my stepmom (who I won’t name just yet, lest she want to remain free from the search engines) will be collaborating on drafts of the letters. For now, I’ll simply post research material about each person followed by the final draft of the letter that gets sent. Hopefully soon I can interview my stepmom and other individuals who have insight into the subjects that arise during the project.

Though each letter is addressed to a member (is that the right term?) of the Forbes 400, it has other audiences: the personal assistant who will decide whether to pass it on to the boss, my friends and fellow artists, the readers of my blog, and hopefully a wider public. The tone of these letters will not be one of supplication, since becoming a millionaire is not a matter of life and death, nor is it a question of seeking charity. To be an artist, writer, or musician in 2012 is to be part of a business that doesn’t function as successful, healthy businesses do. It’s being asked to follow the rules of commerce, but with little likelihood that you will prosper from it.

“400 to 1″ may ultimately be a process that allows all of us creative types to rewire our brains from that of the milquetoast to that of the hard-ass. How do the successful think? How do you get some money and then use it to structure your life according to how you think it should be? Why on earth would anyone ever give me a million dollars?

Throughout this project, which at minimum will take 18 months, I encourage comments and any input from you! Just as each letter is structured not as a yes-or-no question but as the beginning of a process, this entire project is a dialogue and an attempt to expand our notion of what is desirable and possible for the life of the artist.

The Millionaire Donors so far

Rolf Wilkinson
Charity Ellis
Steven Barich
Alex Rosmarin
Erica Gangsei
John Rogers
Will Robot
Darren Jenkins
The Sometime Gallery
Eric Logsdon
Me again
Elena Voiron
Your secret admirer
Celeste Christie
Hannah Henry
Sarah Neidhofer
Mary Mortimer
Rowan Morrison
Pete Glover
Narangkar Glover
Lexa Walsh
Sarah Filley
Dog the Bounty Hunter S.T.
Ray Yeh
Robbin Green
Deric Carner
Joe H.
Ross Todd Kerr
Bill Urban
Lauren Stower
Kenton Dornbursh
Kyle Milligan
Indrani Barmah
Walter de Lon
Bill Land
Sharon Squires
Don Squires
Marcie Kramer
Winston Nelson
Seth Wright
Matt John
Mike Supple
Meadowlark Bradsher
Max Darling
Francisca Darling
Frank Darling
Rhonda Darling
Nico Dery
Alli Darling
Brett Smith
Jessica Serran
Gwen Pogrowski
Alfred Lambert
Henry Boyle
Nat Parsons
Obi Kaufmann
John Casey
Mary Kalin-Casey
Maria Einaudi
Isabelle Einaudi
Jon Carling
Sean Regan
Todd Hodes
Linda Nelson
Peter Nelson
Betsy Duffy
Mike Ufford
Steph Walsh Beilman
Huddie Walsh Murray
Kevin Murray
Tez Seiberlich
Monica Walsh
Crystal Mascareno
Minna Walsh
Bridget Walsh
Criswell Davis
Tegan Walsh
Cole Walsh
Laura
Brian Mascareno
Gabe Mascareno
Max Mascareno
Anna Walsh
Don Beilman
Bill Seiberlich
Meredith Seiberlich
Emma Seiberlich
Dan Walsh
Daniel Bachman
Tim Walsh
Valerie J. Cochran
Scott Oliver
Claire Wylde
John Casey
Brian Caraway
Alice Caraway
Myles Boisen
Svea Vezzone
Anu Vikram
Jane Sommerhauser
Nathan Caffee
Justin Bailey
Kelly Allen
Lynn ?
Frank ?
Lazane Jobe
Darin Donovan
Jake Ferreira
Jason Soll
Natasha Mitchell
Renee ?
Melissa Margolis
Sean Fletcher
Keiko Nelson
Greg Reynolds
Loyan Warsame
Quan Du
Alfredo Lopez-Cardoza
David Walsh
Karn Piana
Courtney Price
Diane Reed
Bruce Henrickson
Patrick Finn
Jen Finn
Frank Ippolito
Hannah Jickling
Helen Reed
Garth Klippert
anonymous (59)
Kelley Stoltz
Charles Williams IV
Sare Rane
Larry Yes
Rhonda Kennedy
Adam Sullivan
Toussaint Perrault

Kickstarter kicks a starter

Made a proposal to the online fundraising org Kickstarter to be involved in raising a chunk of the money (not all), which they rejected with one of those brief, condescending responses, like “this project isn’t right for us.” I guess they prefer to trudge on with their cutesy graphic novels and indie films about hitchhiking runaways (that look like models) on the road to redemption. Here’s the text of the proposal (whose wording is tailored toward their format):

“Hey there. The million dollars is not my actual goal through Kickstarter! I’m currently working on a project called “Make an Artist a Millionaire”. The object is to get a million people to each give a dollar, to save the money as it’s collected and exhibit it upon completion of the project. The purpose is to enable me to quit my day job and work full time as an artist, support my wife (who is also an artist), have health care, buy a house, etc. I’m wondering if you at Kickstarter are interested in helping me work toward this goal. Maybe it could be thought of as the second phase of the project, with a goal of $5,000 or $10,000. This project has been really successful and appealing to a lot of people on a small scale, and I think all it needs is a gradual increase of scale and some word of mouth exposure to reach its goal. In an age where hedge fund managers (like John Paulson) and oil execs make $1 million in the course of an afternoon or even an hour, I think artists and non-artists alike are ready to make me a millionaire. Thanks for considering. — Dan

“I see one reward for the public in this project to be the feeling of not only giving, but participating in something like a lottery with an assured winner. (There is also a list of the names of all donors being kept that will be shown.) The other benefit for donors would be their participation in an attempt to change society’s perception of artists (which is what all art is about, examining and changing perception), to reverse the old pairing of “artist” and “poor.” MaAaM–and its participants–question the accepted notion that artists and musicians ought to have day jobs that prevent them from devoting themselves full time to art. To be great you have to devote yourself fully to something, and it’s not okay that the vast majority of creative types are unable to do this. I see the donation of $1 to MAAAM as a vote for artists and the value of art. I like to compare giving $1 to this to paying at least that amount to a parking meter or an ATM machine and getting what exactly in return? People make bankers rich every day–how about an artist?”

Send Me Your Money!

Just discovered the Chris Burden piece Send Me Your Money. One night in 1979, he spent an hour on a public radio station in Santa Monica asking people to send him money. No reasons, no arguing his case, just repeatedly asking and giving his mailing address. You can listen to the entire thing (though a couple of minutes gives you the idea) on the excellent UbuWeb. (While you’re there, also listen to his “Atomic Alphabet”!) But five minutes gives you the gist.

I wonder how he did. There’s no mention of the results anywhere I can see, as if it actually working were a moot point. Anyone have his email address?

Was it a joke? Was it an elaborate exercise in failing? At an attempt that was destined to fail? How could it be in earnest, on a public radio station, they of the never-ending fundraising drives?

The Little Millionaire That Could

alex-tew-millionaire

Folks have been asking me lately how the Millionaire project is going. Well, it’s doing what I thought it would. Initially there were many contributions from friends, family, fellow artists, and even some people I didn’t know. Then it slowed down a bit. I knew that he first hurdle would arise when everyone I new had given. Lo and behold, the hurdle. But I was prepared. Before the hurdle was in sight, I had printed 500 mini press releases in postcard form, with the clean and attractive MaAaM poster on the front, and mailed 150 of them to newspapers, magazines, weeklies, radio, etc. Never heard a peep. (Presumably pubs like the Wall St. Journal and Art in America aren’t interested in non-traditional ways of artists becoming millionaires.)

Then, in searching the web for others who have attempted the million, I found the following site: The Millionaire Home Page. Okay, kind of a wacky idea. No, wait this guy’s 21, he’s a business major, and he’s basically selling advertising on a page that has no other function than advertising. And people bought space on it because it was a gimmick, because getting someone’s attention long enough for them to click on your site is the point of ads now. And then something clicked. He made the gimmick work for him. That’s why he is now a millionaire.

What does this mean for MaAaM? I don’t want to say MaAaM is dead in the water. But I will say the gimmick is not working. What is the central gimmick of my project? That giving the symbolic amount of a dollar is primarily a concrete way of voting for the artist to live as an artist and not a hobbyist. (When asked “If you want money for University, why don’t you get a job?”, Alex Tew said, “Although I’ve done many different jobs in the past, it’s not really how my brain likes to work. My natural disposition is to think of ideas, and I like to create interesting things and ways of doing things.”) It’s also a middle finger to the institutions that are constantly charging us $1 and $2 and $3 fees and thereby becoming millionaires. Is this a strong enough reason to give up $1? (People spend, I spend, three times that on coffee.) Perhaps subconsciously the idea of keeping a public list of donor names is similar to the selling of ad space on the above site. But is it working? Has that been a factor? Clearly not a significant one, as I haven’t received anything in two months.

The tag line of Alex Tew’s site is “Own a piece of Internet history!” Brilliant. Seriously, it’s the kernel of advertising, celebrity, and of history itself: becoming known because you are known. And it has precedents in art also. Like I always tell people, look at Chris Burden. He had himself shot and boom! He has a career for life. So what I say to you, World, is: send me a dollar and Own a Piece of Art History!