On a wall opposite the front door in Paul Belker’s north-side home hangs a painting of a girl sliding backward down a banister. But maybe sliding isn’t quite right. “Impaled, sliding, you tell me,” Belker says.
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A self-described pack rat, Belker grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, collecting at various times bumper stickers, buttons, and beer cans. As a teenager he frequented thrift stores, often gravitating toward the knickknack section. In the late 80s, after graduating from the University of Michigan with a degree in psychology, Belker moved to Chicago, lured–“more than I would care to admit”–by the quantity and quality of the thrift stores.
He already owned about ten paintings other people had seen fit to discard when his passion for collecting was ignited by a 1992 exhibit of thrift-store art at the now defunct World Tattoo Gallery. Impressed by the quality and variety of the work in the show and believing that more masterpieces were out there just waiting to be stumbled upon, “I immediately got very focused,” he says. He began rummaging more often and started holding “art acquisition parties,” at which the price of admission was a piece of thrift-store art and prizes were doled out for the top three finds. On a recent invitation he asked friends to join him “for an evening of good food, good drink, good company, and bad art.”
“Clearly the guy had no idea what he was doing,” says Belker, who likes the painting well enough to hang it on the wall. But his comments about it on thriftstoreart.com apparently struck a nerve. “I don’t know if I described it as ‘bad art’ or said why in the world did somebody paint this,” but he received an E-mail from one of Duberchin’s nephews in his uncle’s defense, saying the artist had come from a family of “poor immigrants” and “could not afford to develop his talents.” Other Duberchin relatives got in touch as well. One even sent him a couple pieces of art made by Harry’s brother Jack: a Lucite pen holder carved with a floral design and a “pretty boring” still life of flowers that’s never made it out of Belker’s basement.
Last year someone made a virtual donation of an airbrushed painting called Pebbles and Friend, depicting the Flintstones character and a similarly dressed playmate with a photorealistic face. Belker thought the work was atrocious, and he rejected it. Offended, the donor accused him of “reverse snobbery” and insinuated that Belker had been reading the “poison” in the New York Times art section. After the donor implored him to let the public decide if Pebbles and Friend fit his collection, Belker posted it on his Web site and solicited votes for or against. So far 64 people have registered their opinions; the nos have a two-vote lead. Belker says he plans to close the poll when one side reaches 100 votes. “But that may change,” he says. “I love hearing people’s thoughts on the piece.”
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos/Cynthia Howe.
