Think of Seattle and three things automatically spring to mind - Microsoft, Starbucks, Nirvana - though possibly not its contemporary art scene. In fact, I'd be hard pressed to name a single artist currently based in the Pacific north west; though a correspondent to the arts blog of Seattle's alternative newspaper, the Stranger suggests a possible reason why. The writer states that "the reason why Seattle is not taken more seriously in larger art circles is due to the fact that for 25 years Matthew Kangas has had a virtual stranglehold on which artists get written about in the national press."
You may not have heard of Matthew Kangas either, but he's a very big cheese on Seattle's visual arts scene. He proudly refers to himself as "the most widely published art critic in the north west" and has contributed reviews to journals including Art In America as well as long standing freelance reports for the Seattle Times. He also curates exhibitions - not that there is anything so unusual about that, except a report in the Stranger recently noted that some of these exhibitions contained pieces of work belonging to himself. In fact a show currently in progress at Seattle's Kirkland Arts Center (Joe Reno: Works on Paper) entirely consists of items from the Kangas Collection.
Again, there would be nothing too sinister about this if the works were not anonymously credited to a "private collection". More damaging still were allegations from a group of Seattle artists that Kangas had coerced them into giving him work in exchange for favourable reviews. Kangas denies this, stating that the pieces were gifts.
It all adds up to a splendidly insular tale of inflated egos and parochial dilettantism which could grace an episode of Seattle's greatest comic export, Frasier. As one Seattle painter, Ken Kelly, puts it: "Young artists have enough things to deal with without small-town dictators throwing more hurdles in their path". Kelly claims that he resisted Kangas's overtures to give him a painting, but his comments have much wider implications when he claims that "He [Kangas] said that all the artists in New York give art to critics.'
This is an assertion that would be very difficult to prove, though it is certainly not without precedent. It's common knowledge that the great tastemaker of post-war American art, Clement Greenberg (the figure on whom Kangas rather ludicrously seems to have styled himself) amassed a highly significant horde of the artists he championed, and even went so far as instructing them as to how they should paint. He also sold some of these off to pay the bills - yet when the Portland Museum of Art acquired a job lot after Greenberg's death, who ultimately became the richer: the Portland public, which gained access to a priceless collection of abstract expressionism, or the critic's second wife, who profited from a reported $2m?
These days the line between artists, dealers and collectors might seem to be more clearly defined. Charles Saatchi apparently wields an unseemly degree of power as an arbiter of taste, but he only bought a pickled shark, he didn't go on to review it in the national press. It was up to other - one assumes, independently minded - commentators to publish their opinion as to whether Saatchi's purchase was worthwhile.
Yet it is not uncommon for critics to own works of art, to be friends with artists, or to write catalogue essays for exhibitions they may also have to review. There is nothing underhand about such activities so long as the writer declares an interest and refrains from praising their own pictures in print. Some contributors to the online debate seem to expect critics to retain an almost monastic level of detachment from the subjects they write about, which seems as impractical as it is severe - critics are, after all, passionate enthusiasts for their subject matter. Does it follow that they should be the only members of the public automatically disbarred from owning a work of art? The potential conflict of interest only arises if they manipulate their purchasing decisions to influence the market.
Speaking as someone who writes primarily about theatre (and has never been affluent or fortunate enough to be offered any original works of art) it could be regarded as a professional failing if I wasn't dedicated enough to spend the occasional night off enjoying theatrical performances I wasn't scheduled to review. Though there would clearly be something awry if I became an investor in a production with a view to boosting its profile in print. Does this mean, however, that I could never entertain the possibility of becoming a theatrical investor without first severing all professional ties with the Guardian? That, for the time being, is likely to remain purely hypothetical - not that I wouldn't think twice about filling my boots with an associate producer credit on the stunning fringe discovery that storms Broadway. But because I am not absolutely barking mad.
