Overheard at the opening of the DeSoto Cabal – “if you can’t say anything nice about someone, don’t say anything at all.”

What a Portland-sentiment, a lie by omission; this is what stifles our creative capacity. It’s proud provincialism, not new real estate, which we must overcome.

The adventurous part of owning an art gallery is the moment just before you say “go!” My understanding of the development of the business side of Portland – like city galleries showing local art is there is a slow building of opportunity to make more money by selling more mainstream artwork – kindly faces in frames which can go over mantelpieces and be admired by visitors. Accepting a difficult artist is often equivalent to accepting a loss.

Pearl District condo buyers considered the square footage of the floors, but they should have got estimates of the square footage of the walls – which all needed artwork, which all needed to be bought by “an up and coming artist who I met at a party and then read about in a magazine!” It’s such a thrill – being connected to something alive and creative.

These galleries now have serious mortgages. Bestsellers sell best. I would bank on Jim Riswold and Royal Nebecker-types remaining and a turgid campaign to tell us about how great they are. I don’t like to bet on underdogs, but this upmarket move bodes well for the cavalier and crafty and those who can live on tea and triscuits.

(Nice photo of stupid artwork from PORT by Sarah Henderson)