-my Alison — Angel Collection-

Collecting Alison’s work is not about possession. It is about conversation. When I add a new piece to , I am not checking a box. I am inviting a new voice into my home. I am saying, "This specific emotion is valid enough to hang on a wall." The Future: What Comes Next? -MY ALISON ANGEL COLLECTION- is currently standing at 132 pieces. That includes 47 published prints, 6 originals, 22 proofs, and the rest ephemera (postcards, vinyl records featuring her cover art, and one very strange ashtray from a Berlin pop-up).

I do not arrange the pieces chronologically. Instead, is arranged emotionally . The sad pieces face the window (to catch the rain light). The angry pieces hang in the hallway (you must walk past them to get to the kitchen). The peaceful piece— Study for a Morning, No. 4 —hangs above my bed. The Hunt: Acquisitions and Anecdotes Building -MY ALISON ANGEL COLLECTION- has required travel, stealth, and occasional heartbreak. -MY ALISON ANGEL COLLECTION-

If you are reading this and you own a single Alison Angel print, even a poster, you already understand. You are already building your own collection. Do not let the snobs tell you that you need a gallery to be a curator. A collection lives where the passion is. -MY ALISON ANGEL COLLECTION- is not finished. It will never be finished. That is the beauty of the verb "collecting" over the noun "collection." It is a living, breathing organism. As Alison ages and creates, my walls will evolve. Collecting Alison’s work is not about possession

Do you have a prized Alison Angel piece? Share your story below. The collection is stronger when we share the archive. (End of article) I am inviting a new voice into my home

At Art Basel 2023, a Swiss collector outbid me on the Falling Woman triptych. I watched the hammer drop, and my stomach turned to lead. I cried in a taxi. But the art world is small. Six months later, that same Swiss collector defaulted on a loan. I got a call. The triptych is now mine, hanging three inches apart, as Angel intended.

I am also in the early stages of trying to contact the artist herself. I do not want an appraisal. I want to know if she approves of the hanging height. I want to know if she is tired of the Lace & Linoleum chair.

Alison’s early work is defined by a particular softness—a diffusion of light that makes the subject look like a memory rather than a photograph. The price was insultingly low, which told me the seller had no idea what they possessed. I won the bid for $12.50.