I read a very good H.H. Munro story once about an art dealer who fleeced lots of poor, starving artists. Artists would bring her their paintings and she would do them a deal. She would write her price down and put it in an envelope. Then she would make the artist name his price. If it was too high he would go away with nothing, but if lower than the concealed price, that is the price she would pay. Using this method she had forced prices right right down and kept artists hungry and busy. But the nasty twist was that she would sneeringly tortment them by telling them what she would have paid if they had bid higher.
So, two artists clubbed together and painted a humiliating nude with the dealer's head on it and hung it publically. When the dealer demanded to buy it, they offered her the same deal. The dealer offered an exhorbitantly high amount, for fear of losing the picture. The deal was done.
And when she demanded to know the concealed price?
One penny.
Why the story? It was brought to mind by some of the skinflint behaviour of dealers who have approached me recently. My prices are my prices. Offer me a deal, by all means, but get the price wrong and I will not even answer your email; just block you. I am sick of the insultingly low offers I have received (along with sob stories designed to force prices down). Particularly despicable are the weasels who pretend to be collectors andthen tell you they are short of cash at the moment...blah blah blah
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