I don’t consider myself wise and I despise unsolicited advice. But here’s one life lesson I seldom hesitate to share: Buy art. You will never regret it. As William Morris said: Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.1 Even if your tastes change and one day something you once loved no longer scratches that itch — well, it’s a lot easier than breaking up with a person. Sell it, tuck it into an obscure corner, trade it for something new.2
You don’t have to spend a lot, or find emerging artists, or insist on original works. Prints, lithographs, posters — all good. Shop eBay, where I have found some amazing treasures. (Facebook marketplace may be good, too, but I don’t use Facebook.) If you’re a cinephile, consider tracking down old film posters. Foreign language versions can be amazing.
What you DO have to do is fall in love. You may not, per Daniel Stern’s character in Hannah and her Sisters, look for art that goes with your puce ottoman. You’re an idiot if you buy art as an “investment.” YOU HAVE TO F’LOVE IT.
By my calculation, I spent more on art than I did on travel in 2025. That’s not a high bar — the only trips I took on my own dime were to New York and New Orleans, places where I don’t have to rely on hotels. The works I bought ranged from $25 to — none of your business. (But, as original art goes, relatively cheap.)3
I found two paintings through serendipity. I treated myself to an embroidered piece by the amazing Chris Roberts-Aniteau, my third work by her. I bought two works by Dana Ellyn, one by her husband Matt Sesow. I think that’s the total. So far. There are four months left in the year, after all. Then again, I am running out of wall space.
A good friend (who happens to have great taste) asked me why I have so much certitude about what I love. I don’t know. I just know that the art I’ve fallen for has never let me down. Things that cost, literally, a dollar, mean as much to me as more costly works. When I moved from San Antonio to Baltimore, a few boxes went missing and I cried over the loss of five crudely carved women from Nuevo Laredo, which cost maybe a dollar. Total. We were ultimately reunited and they live in my office to this day. My heart sings every time I see them.
As I try to mention as often as possible, I’ve been a docent at American Visionary Art Museum since 2023. I also used to be a Smuggy McSmuggington when going to AVAM with my ex, who would say “That looks familiar” and I’d reply, “Oh yes, we have a Ruby C. Williams” — or a Purvis Young, or a Howard Finster, or a Mose Tolliver, you get the point. AVAM’s imprimatur gave my tiny collection some credibility. Look, I get it. There are people who walk through AVAM and say: “I could do that.” To which I reply, gently as possible: “But would you?”
During the pandemic, when we were all buggy and I was doubly buggy because the aforementioned husband had left me, I noticed I was saving a lot of money — no travel, no restaurants, very little shopping — so I bought art. This included a piece by the Rev. Mary Proctor, who produces mixed media work on doors, among other surfaces. I tracked down one of her doors at a Florida gallery and struck up a lovely correspondence with a young woman who did everything she could to make the shipping affordable. (She’s mentioned in the acknowledgments for Prom Mom because she also was gracious enough to answer my questions about what it’s like to work in an art gallery.)
Since 2022, that door by Mary Proctor has hung on the exposed brick wall of my stairwell landing. But now it’s gone. Because it’s on loan to my beloved AVAM for an outstanding exhibit of Proctor’s work, The Strength to Be Joyful, that went up last month. And every time I see it — four times so far! twice during tours I was conducting! — I squee internally. Courtesy of Laura Lippman. I’m FAWNCY. Also, the exhibit is just flat-out beautiful. Come visit! And then stop by our gift shop, Sideshow, which has wonderful — and affordable — art.
Read/reading: Slow Days, Fast Company, Eve Babitz; Bug Hollow, Michelle Huneven; An Impossibility of Crows, Kirsten Kaschock: The Float Test, Lynn Stegner Strong; Come Closer and Listen, Charles Simic; What the Night Brings, Mark Billingham (audio); The Secret Hours, Mick Herron (audio). Lots of poetry as ModPo is back in symposium mode.
Rereading: The Boyfriend School, Sarah Bird. Little Me, Patrick Dennis.
Me, Me, Me: Murder Takes a Vacation was published Aug. 14 in the UK to lovely reviews. And I will be in Stirling, Scotland, Sept. 12-13 for Bloody Scotland, reunited with one of my favorite people on the planet, Mark Billingham. Finally, I wrote — obliquely — about the anniversary of my mom’s death here.
As for interior decorating, I hew to the wisdom of Monty Beragon, who told Mildred Pierce: When it comes to comfort, spend lavishly, when it comes to show, be a little modest.
If only we could do this with people.
There is one expensive piece in this gallery; I was able to buy it in part because I sold most of the jewelry that I was gifted during my marriage. I also paid for a bathroom renovation by selling my jewelry, but it’s important to note that jewelry is a TERRIBLE investment. If you’re lucky, you’ll get 30 cents on the dollar. Interestingly, the only piece in my jewelry collection that held its value was a Tiffany bracelet I bought for myself, so I decided to hold onto that one.
Love the Laredo women and agree with you 100% on art. One place to find great art that holds and increases its value is New Art Editions. It’s a free website that alerts one when there’s a benefit edition print by a blue chip artist. I’ve gotten works by Nan Goldin, Faith Ringgold and Carrie Mae Weems there. They also show original works for sale by their readers.
Love this. My ex found a rolled-up Hopper in a wastebasket at a flea market many years ago (granted, the ex is an art dealer in prints), proving...many things, I guess, but mostly that if you look in unexpected places you might find unexpected treasure. xo