Backstory: Adoption for art lovers

The décor of Mr. Salvado's living room in a rented split-level in West Falls Church, Va., consists of a couch, a chair, a floor lamp, and a 56-inch TV that belongs to a housemate. The walls loom white and bare. But in his bedroom, the face of a Madonna hangs, framed, above the bed, gazing serenely at Salvado's pillow.

"I'm not very religious," he says, "but going to my job, where there is a certain amount of danger, I find it soothing and comforting – something about having a mother figure always there."

When Salvado expressed this to Ms. Quinlan, he gave her more than a warm, fuzzy feeling. He gave her valuable feedback by answering the very question that inspired Quinlan's drawing: Do people today need the kinds of images demanded of artists in the 14th-century like Duccio? Galleries looking for cutting edge might say "no"; Salvado gave a heartfelt "yes." Could it be, Quinlan now wonders, that art adoptions might in time challenge the monopoly that galleries, museums, and the very rich have on determining what is good and bad in art?

Were it not for FAAN, Salvado might never have discovered Quinlan's work or communicated with her. Buyers typically speak with gallery owners; when they do chat with artists neither can ignore the fact that this is also a business transaction. In adoptions, Honeycutt says, "you hope – and it has proved so – that people really like the work; that they're not adopting it because it has commercial value, but for the work's sake." The conversations are, she adds, "direct and, at the same time, anonymous. I like it because it is outside the system; it goes against the grain."

All this makes FAAN an exciting addition to the art world, observes Hope Daniels, the editorial director of three Rosen Group publications for collectors, art retailers, and artists. "Anything that helps artists helps move the entire arts community along – [though] not, perhaps, in the way high-end galleries and collectors would like." If the latter might like to keep art pegged to monetary values, FAAN, she believes, serves the ideal that "we are all entitled to create a space to live in that uplifts us."

FAAN artists aren't worried that by giving work away they're hurting their chances for commercial success. There is already evidence that people who've adopted once will consider buying the second time. And given that some adopters are as young as age 12, FAAN may be educating future collectors – even perhaps subverting the social order by introducing art to youngsters who don't meet the art world's criteria of money and status.

For now, however, adoption's most tangible effect is satisfaction. Aquilino is visibly tickled to have "Freaky Cat," even though she and her husband have not yet agreed where to hang it.

And, if Honeycutt is taking the time to pick five more pieces for adoption, it is because she has reaped more rewards than she expected when she signed up. One adoptee now hangs in New Jersey, where a young mother and a 4-year-old daughter like it because "it is happy." Another resides in a Florida home-care facility for the elderly, this one adopted by the administrator, who recognized in Honeycutt's drawing a lyrical reminiscence of a past era – "she really got the work," Honeycutt beams.

Honeycutt also regularly hears about another adoptee, a drawing that Peter Gorham, a fifth-grade teacher in Fredericton, New Brunswick, has used as the springboard for student projects – including getting them to choose a work on FAAN and articulating why they wish to adopt it. A far more challenging task than writing a check.

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