Street Dealing

If I couldn't make my art I'd rather be dead. For most artists, creating isn't just a career choice; it's a compulsion, an internal drive that can't be switched off. Unfortunately, there aren't enough galleries, art fairs or art collectors to support all of the artists who'd like to earn a living from their work. Though the Armory and Scope art fairs recently held in the city scored robust sales, $62 and $7.5 million respectively, most talented creators go unrepresented and thus unseen, earning relatively little to nothing from their precious passion. And while every artist wants a gallery, increasingly major dealers prefer artists who have the right MFA or expensive Ivy League pedigree. Priority defaults to the artists who look good, make bankable art and talk a good game. In other words, artists who have market appeal.

For many self-motivated artists, selling directly on the streets is the solution. The streets offer fast cash, possible contacts and a conceptual stage. When Ron Jones found himself between jobs, he started selling his metal sculptures and paintings of African-masked mechanics afloat in a colorful network of pipes, tools, blackbirds and car parts-a style he calls Afro Tech-in Soho. Eight years later, he's still at it.

When Ivan Jenson, a mercurial 20-year-old "rocker" from Queens hung his Botticelli-styled drawings on a fence in Time Square in the mid '80s, he figured it was just a one-time thing. But after earning more in 10 minutes then he made all day at his catering job, he quit, and took to the Square in a serious way.

"The street was my first gallery," offers Jenson. Self-taught, he developed a cubist approach he calls "colorism." Soon he was dealing with real rock stars, featured on TV, hosting club events and partying on millionaires' yachts. "One collector bought 150 paintings. His home is my own private museum."

Despite Jenson's success and extensive contacts, he was never able to sign with an established New York gallery. "Yeah, I wanted the gallery wine and cheese life," he admits. "But I think about afternoons in Union Square with the sun shining as some of the best years of my life."

Painter Nick Kuszyk sees the street as an extension of his gallery (McCaig-Welles) and website. The tall, scruffy Virginia native, known for his pop-colored, angst-driven robot canvases, believes in making his work affordable for art lovers who feel left out of the pricier mainstream market.

Still, while many art buyers are validating street art with their purchases, a stigma still remains. "What would I think about a big name artist selling on the streets?" asks sidewalk vendor/photographer Davina Z. "As an emerging artist, I don't think it would be wise to tell a dealer where I work. It shouldn't matter, but I think it does."

Davina moved to New York to pursue her fine art career. When a street artist told her how easy it was to make money, she created a photo series using discarded toys. "You start to understand what sells," she explains. "But I also have to like it and stay true to myself."

Street selling is not without its own set of problems: the police issue tickets and force artists to move, days can go by with no sales, rain is a pain and new vendors must stake claim on good locations.

"I've seen some very ugly things," Davina reveals, "like people flipping tables. If you don't have a strong personality, you will have a hard time. But you learn the ways of the street."

Despite the elitist, invite-only attitude of many galleries, today's New York artists are taking their wares to the streets, and scoring-both financially and creatively. "I like the interaction of selling on the street," explains Pasqualina Azzarello, whose large-scale installations and tiny paintings of self-reflective stick figures have supported her for the past nine years.

"The street is not a substitute for showing in a gallery. It's a different trajectory. But I value putting handmade pieces in places where people live. I find it fascinating to communicate through the creative process. If I'm able to do that in my life, I win."