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That philosophy could be described as bringing art to the masses. As a student at the University of North Texas, Gibb and a classmate named Mark Searcy started a magazine called Art Prostitute. The name was an inside joke, a reference to a common term for artists who "whore" out their skills to ad agencies and print publications to pay for their true passion: fine art. But Gibb and Searcy believed these two worlds didn't have to be exclusive, and they sought out artists who found ways to incorporate their best work into commercial endeavors.
"I've always been inspired by artists who do really good work on a skateboard or an album liner. It's something that's of a very high quality, but it's accessible to people who may not be very knowledgeable about art."The magazine spoke to artists in a new way. It featured the work of nationally known artists and graphic designers, along with in-depth interviews with the artists in which they talked in detail about their craft and how they had made it in the art world. Before long, the magazine, which sold in art museums and galleries for $27-$30, was a hit on both coasts, and suddenly Gibb and Searcy were being asked to speak to artist associations and lecture at universities.
"I would say by the fourth issue it had really reached a roar, where we were talking to big names in the art world and they were referencing us, and we were being flown places to talk about what we were doing," Gibb says. "Early on, we were so hell-bent on making it work at any cost. It didn't matter what happened to us. All that mattered is it got printed and got out into the world."
That meant borrowing money from family and putting bills on credit cards to keep the magazine afloat. Its success led to the opening of a gallery in Denton, which Gibb and Searcy moved to Dallas in 2006.
So far, the community support from the Dallas art world has been great, Gibb says, but he hasn't seen the spike in sales he hoped for, which is why, as an artist, he is welcoming development in Deep Ellum.
"The location is tough," he says. "We want to be here. The people who own this building have been so great. They believe in me and want us here. We don't want it to get to the point where we have to move."
Frank Campagna, who owns the Kettle Art gallery, says Gibb just needs to be patient. He says Kettle, 2714 Elm St., is regularly packed for openings and that business is better than he expected. The key, he says, is to embrace what makes the neighborhood special and to figure out creative ways to get people in your store. He recently hosted a night of films at his gallery on the history of Deep Ellum, an event that drew a standing-room-only crowd.
"There were people standing outside, watching through the windows," Campagna says. "I've been in Deep Ellum for a long time, and what we've got going on now, with this explosion of art galleries, is something special. Deep Ellum is as cool as it's been since the 1980s, and the last thing we need is some developers coming in from the outside and changing things."