Betty And Ray
To say that this is the best photograph I've ever bought on Facebook is a significant understatement. I can't think of second place.
I got this photo in an online auction in one of the ephemera groups. A buyer posts a number of photos at a fixed price (in this case $10) and the photos are sold on a first-come first sold basis. Usually there are 30 to 70 photos in such a sale.
This dealer consistently has 60 photos in his $3 sales. But since this was a $10 sale, he probably had 15 or 20 in this one. If you're not there the instant a sale goes up, you lose out on the best items. Believe me, many collectors and most of the dealers know what the best items are.
One thing working in my favor was that it's easy to pull the trigger on a $3 photo, but you hesitate a moment or two, give a photo a bit more consideration, when you're taking a ten-spot out of your pocket.
However, the real reason I was lucky and got this photo is because, since I don't have the fastest internet connection (some other buyers have significantly faster connections, but we're talking fractions of a second), is that I never go in the front of a sale. The way Facebook allows you to post such a sale means that you can start at the back, with photo #70, say, and click forward to #1, or you can start at the beginning and go to the end.
Starting at the back gives me an edge on photos that are later in the sale, but I miss out on the first good photos. And usually a dealer will front-load a sale, with many of the best items in the beginning.
It's hard for me to believe this dealer didn't know what he had. As you will see, he could have sold the photo for a lot more than I paid for it. Did he miss it? Did he not care? Certainly it will drive me back to his sales, hoping to find another gold nugget.
I did hesitate, for just a fraction of a second, to mark this "s" (no one takes the time to write "sold). Fortunately, that wasn't fatal. I hate myself for hesitating that fraction of a second. I could well have lost out for what would have been a 20th (or less) of a second.
But my "s" went up, and no one bid in the seconds following. And then the fun started. Within seconds, a fellow dealer had said "that's a treasure." A collector immediately said she wanted to buy it. I told her she was first in line, but I didn't commit to selling the photo at a set price. I didn't, in fact, commit to selling the photo.
Then the dealer who said "that's a treasure" sent me a message waving a ( metaphorical) blank check to buy the photo. The woman who had first offered to buy said she would pay $100. When I didn't jump on that we had a long conversation about how she really really really wanted the photo. It had some personal relevance (which she didn't explain) for her. She had realized that $100 wasn't swaying me, and now she too waved a metaphorical blank check. She said she would work overtime to pay for the photo. I think she even said she would get a second job. She said she would have a high-resolution scan made of the photo and have that framed. That would be part of the deal (I would laugh at that as full payment).
So now I had three people who really wanted the photo. I mean REALLY wanted the photo. Desire, expressed desire, gives a seller the advantage. Had I hoped to maximize my return on the photo, I might have proposed a bidding war between my three buyers. If I had made the bidding public, however, I might have alienated those three. There are lots of quibbles and conditions to consider in selling a good photograph.
So I might have said: "I will take bids for 24 hours. I will give everybody updates on the status of the bidding, and there will be a five-minute window at the end where anyone can top the highest bid." The bidders would have had to rely on my honesty. I could, if I were unscrupulous, tell all three that the bid was higher than it actually was.
Here;s the big however: I know all three of the potential buyers. One is a fellow dealer to whom I have sold privately, in person, whose knowledge and intellectual on what he refuses to call "vernacular" photos is formidable, and though I have never seen his collection, I have every reason to believe it is superb. He wasn't going to sell this photo — it was going into his personal collection. Who owns a photo I sell means something to me. I have purposely avoided selling to some people because, well, I don't like them. They don't deserve to own one of my good photos.
The second buyer is a collector who has a collection of both fine art and vernacular photos. I know he is well-fixed financially. He teased me by offering to trade ne a photo of a pretty woman.. I hope he was kidding — she wasn't that hot.
By now, I thought $300 for the photo was not an unreasonable amount to sell it for. But if I sold it to one of my friends, two would be unhappy. And $300 is but a drop in the bucket compared to the debt I'm in.
What was left for me to do? It's not worth damaging two friendships to make one personal happy.
I'm keeping the photo. It's Not For Sale.
Betty And Ray
To say that this is the best photograph I've ever bought on Facebook is a significant understatement. I can't think of second place.
I got this photo in an online auction in one of the ephemera groups. A buyer posts a number of photos at a fixed price (in this case $10) and the photos are sold on a first-come first sold basis. Usually there are 30 to 70 photos in such a sale.
This dealer consistently has 60 photos in his $3 sales. But since this was a $10 sale, he probably had 15 or 20 in this one. If you're not there the instant a sale goes up, you lose out on the best items. Believe me, many collectors and most of the dealers know what the best items are.
One thing working in my favor was that it's easy to pull the trigger on a $3 photo, but you hesitate a moment or two, give a photo a bit more consideration, when you're taking a ten-spot out of your pocket.
However, the real reason I was lucky and got this photo is because, since I don't have the fastest internet connection (some other buyers have significantly faster connections, but we're talking fractions of a second), is that I never go in the front of a sale. The way Facebook allows you to post such a sale means that you can start at the back, with photo #70, say, and click forward to #1, or you can start at the beginning and go to the end.
Starting at the back gives me an edge on photos that are later in the sale, but I miss out on the first good photos. And usually a dealer will front-load a sale, with many of the best items in the beginning.
It's hard for me to believe this dealer didn't know what he had. As you will see, he could have sold the photo for a lot more than I paid for it. Did he miss it? Did he not care? Certainly it will drive me back to his sales, hoping to find another gold nugget.
I did hesitate, for just a fraction of a second, to mark this "s" (no one takes the time to write "sold). Fortunately, that wasn't fatal. I hate myself for hesitating that fraction of a second. I could well have lost out for what would have been a 20th (or less) of a second.
But my "s" went up, and no one bid in the seconds following. And then the fun started. Within seconds, a fellow dealer had said "that's a treasure." A collector immediately said she wanted to buy it. I told her she was first in line, but I didn't commit to selling the photo at a set price. I didn't, in fact, commit to selling the photo.
Then the dealer who said "that's a treasure" sent me a message waving a ( metaphorical) blank check to buy the photo. The woman who had first offered to buy said she would pay $100. When I didn't jump on that we had a long conversation about how she really really really wanted the photo. It had some personal relevance (which she didn't explain) for her. She had realized that $100 wasn't swaying me, and now she too waved a metaphorical blank check. She said she would work overtime to pay for the photo. I think she even said she would get a second job. She said she would have a high-resolution scan made of the photo and have that framed. That would be part of the deal (I would laugh at that as full payment).
So now I had three people who really wanted the photo. I mean REALLY wanted the photo. Desire, expressed desire, gives a seller the advantage. Had I hoped to maximize my return on the photo, I might have proposed a bidding war between my three buyers. If I had made the bidding public, however, I might have alienated those three. There are lots of quibbles and conditions to consider in selling a good photograph.
So I might have said: "I will take bids for 24 hours. I will give everybody updates on the status of the bidding, and there will be a five-minute window at the end where anyone can top the highest bid." The bidders would have had to rely on my honesty. I could, if I were unscrupulous, tell all three that the bid was higher than it actually was.
Here;s the big however: I know all three of the potential buyers. One is a fellow dealer to whom I have sold privately, in person, whose knowledge and intellectual on what he refuses to call "vernacular" photos is formidable, and though I have never seen his collection, I have every reason to believe it is superb. He wasn't going to sell this photo — it was going into his personal collection. Who owns a photo I sell means something to me. I have purposely avoided selling to some people because, well, I don't like them. They don't deserve to own one of my good photos.
The second buyer is a collector who has a collection of both fine art and vernacular photos. I know he is well-fixed financially. He teased me by offering to trade ne a photo of a pretty woman.. I hope he was kidding — she wasn't that hot.
By now, I thought $300 for the photo was not an unreasonable amount to sell it for. But if I sold it to one of my friends, two would be unhappy. And $300 is but a drop in the bucket compared to the debt I'm in.
What was left for me to do? It's not worth damaging two friendships to make one personal happy.
I'm keeping the photo. It's Not For Sale.