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Folks, stop right there. Hold that hand poised over a dustbin to throw away your invitation card to the latest art do.

Gather all the cards, catalogues, calendars, grandma's prints, wedding invitations, film posters—anything remotely to do with art—and store them away safely.

You never know when you can trade them in, like chips at the casino, for a windfall.

Auctionwallas and art dealers are raking it in. Yesterday's trash is today’s conversation piece. From passé to cachet is just an auction away. So, any scribble, dribble, sketches on napkins by budding artist pals can pump up your bank accounts in the near-future. We are being swamped by the art-crazies.

Make no mistake; it's not a sudden blossoming of love for art. Like ants following a trail of spilled sugar they are sniffing round for good ‘investments’—the new gold.

The other day at the opening of an exhibition at Palette, a very chi-chi, minimalist New Delhi gallery run by two enterprising fashion designers turned merchants of the art world, an earnest-but-lost looking man in his early 30s was eavesdropping on my conversation with painter Gopi Gajwani about the merits of serigraphs.

The exhibition comprised a limited edition (125) of serigraphs by the currently ‘hottie’ painter Jogen Chowdhury.

These fine art screen prints of nearly two dozen paintings produced on machines in London and authorised by the artist are indeed breathtakingly exquisite. But original they are not. And multiple collectors end up possessing the same image.

However, the only thing the nascent collector wanted to know was whether these were good investments. ‘Should I buy,’ he kept repeating.

What could I say?

Traditionally, original works are what art dealers, well, deal in. Lithographs, engravings and serigraphs were usually bought by those who could not afford original paintings.

Had I been asked this question a couple of years ago I would have said no. Today, I no longer know. You see, this exhibition has travelled from Pundole Art Gallery in Mumbai.

From Delhi it goes on to Dubai and then to London, and perhaps, New York. But what is interesting, intriguing actually, is the fact that as the exhibition moves, so do the prices-upwards.

All in a matter of a few months. Now if you were in Mumbai you would have got a serigraph for Rs 18,000 (plus taxes).

The Delhiwallas had to play Rs 27,000 (plus taxes) just about a month or so later, and so it goes. It's the scarcity factor at work here, much like sold out tickets to Broadway show or a first day, first show here.

Thus our budding "collector" ought to have picked up the works in Mumbai and then sold them in New York. As for the lucky artist, he gets to keep 25 sets of the serigraphs.

If you do the arithmetic you can easily presume that he'll be laughing all the way to the bank with seven figure sums. No wonder that some banks in India are now willing to accept art as collateral, bringing a new meaning to collateral damage.

These are also crazy times for the artists. Several who have long lived the clichéd life of the poor artist in the garret have had their world turned topsy-turvy by the art-crazies.

It’s not just worrying about taxman dropping by, but about the mushrooming gallerists stalking them: the shrewd ones now want to buy the entire repertoire of the older artists.
Even buyers armed with bundles of notes find their way to the homes of the reclusive artists.

The clever ones are certainly cashing in on the frenzy. There's a joke doing the rounds about a popular ageing artist. When a buyer walks in and asks for a painting, he asks her (it's often a her) to sit down and have a cup of tea. The artist disappears for a while and returns—with a ‘brand’ new painting, the paint not quite dry.

Of course, there's a flip side to all this: instant money begets instant art. Alas, the quality of work of some of our blue chip artists is declining in inverse proportions to the prices they command.

And few have hit the dreaded artist's block. But then all's well that ends well— it's finally their day.

And are they getting smart: no more freebies to friends and art critics charming a work of art out of them. There's a lovely story about Picasso and his wily carpenter who was making something for him.

The carpenter repeatedly told the painter that he did not understand what Picasso really wanted. Finally, he insisted the painter make a sketch. An exasperated Picasso eventually did so, only to have the carpenter ask him to sign it.
Email: jain_madhu@hotmail.com