Creating Your Own Collectibles
Here’s a question for the board of Collection Ethicists, should one exist somewhere and have nothing better to do :
Are you allowed to collect yourself? Or is that just kinda the default? And can ‘collecting’ also be intrinsically tied to the act of production?
Let me clarify. A few months ago, I stumbled into a lost collection of oval portrait canvases I’d bought and forgotten about. I might have had some grand project in mind, or I might have just wanted to load up my Dick Blick order by twenty bucks so I could score free shipping. The real reasons for these canvases have been lost to time – but recently, the canvases started to evolve.
On my art blog, someone commented that I hadn’t painted a Bizarro in a while. I’ve blogged here about Bizarro, and how he’s definitely one of my favorite comic characters for all of the wrong reasons, and how I wouldn’t repent over my twisted Bizarro-lust. There was a period of time when a day wouldn’t go by without a Bizarro drawing, so with this reminder from a fan, I painted a Bizarro – both to reconnect with myself and maybe make a sale. I didn’t make a sale.
Coincidence coalesced into a chance meeting with The Autumn Society, who was seeking art for their ‘The Jokers Wild’ show this past April. I had oval canvases, they wanted a painting of The Joker (another favorite bad guy, and one I tend to draw a lot) – and I couldn’t resist.
This is where we reach those crucial moments of critical mass, immediately before something turns into a collection. Not only were these two paintings unified by being of identical size, but they also followed along in the theme of villainy. This was bad news for my sanity and my free time.

Only months before, I gave up every weeknight to paint tiny 3” x 3” canvas portraits of fifty different DC Comics superheroes – just because I’d done a few and they were gaining momentum. I’d been fishing around for ideas to do a similar project for an array of favorite bad guys, but nothing seemed to fit into place. Creatively, tiny and cartoonish superheroes was an interesting mix of form and function and anti-tradition, so I had to come up with something thematic to with run parallel to, or completely conflict with, that theme of villainy.
With two portraits done, I was again called upon to contribute art to The Autumn Society’s ’80s Pop’ show in June. The art could be anything I felt like, as long as it dealt with those things of the 1980s. I eschewed Pee Wee’s Playhouse, Parker Lewis Can’t Lose and The Real Ghostbusters and painted a diptych of He-Man’s Skeletor and Thundercats’ Mumm-Ra. With this, I crossed the line from ‘just makin’ stuff’ to ‘collection’. But is it possible to collect… myself?
I control the means of production, I control the scarcity, I control every aspect of the product. Since I’ve made a few of these things, I started envisioning a whole gallery of bad guys lining my front entranceway in my new house, or perhaps lining the stairway, as if entering some strange Hall of Injustice (or maybe just the Kitchen Nook of Unfairness) – so I also have no intention on parting with any of these paintings. They are collected.
It’s never easy to sell your own art. I recently started my own webstore, and it’s still not any easier – but to collect yourself is to kinda curse yourself to obscurity and poverty. When it comes down to it, you never collect your own creations because you think they’ll increase in value – and if you feel a hankerin’ for a new piece to add to your collection, you can just sit down and start working on another one. For the active, dedicated collector, it might prove difficult to pull on the reins when so much power is immediately available.

I’ve already polled friends regarding their favorite fictional bad guys, and I’ve sketched everyone from The Lion King’s Scar to Hal 9000. A Darth Vader is half-painted on the drawing table, and a Sauron is getting perfected, while my own version of Star Trek’s John DeLancie as Q needs some work. While, as I mentioned, I control the means of production, sometimes having those means out of my own hands spells a little more sanity. A credit card limit is more likely to stop me than a frantic need to create everything I can think of.
So, I guess I’m collecting myself in the name of home decor, and ultimately, when I get tired of look at Oogie Boogie’s glowing face or the Ice Truck Killer’s smug grin, I can sell ‘em off in one big chunk to any willing buyer. It’s a little easier to wait for DC Direct’s next Batman statue than it is to fight the urge to stay awake all night, building upon a potentially collection of bad guys.
And yes, that is an open invitation to name any and all of your favorite bad guys in the comments below.


to sheets of Masonite with the kind of painter’s brushes you find at Menard’s, has enormous personality and charm, even if its not exactly high art. The uniqueness of his medium — store-grade acrylic paints, Krylon da-glo spraypaint, house-painting brushes, Masonite — also make his paintings quite recognizeable.
suggestion for displaying a completed work of art. Easels specifically made for showing works of art are called ‘display easels’, and come in a wider variety of styles and structure to accommodate all sizes of art and provide a sturdier support for the work. I would recommend going with a ‘H’ style of easel, one built with right-angles, rather than a tripod one, to support the art.

painted on a piece of Masonite, was a winter scene. The story goes that my great-uncle bought it directly from the artist some years before while travelling, and gifted it to my parents some time later. I’d never seen the painting before, which showed my parent’s take on the painting, but I accepted it and planned on getting it framed. Because it was an odd size, large but poorly proportioned, I risked spending lots at a professional framer, so it was put in storage.
seem an ignorant collector, I decided to find out something about the painter. Two of the paintings were signed “Pletan,” and thanks to Google I found out where my art came from.
