“ALL art is immoral,” said Oscar Wilde. He might have added that all art is emotional, including the buying and selling of it. It has become fashionable among economists to study the motivations of art collectors. Now Barclays Bank has generated data that proves that the art market is highly psychological and social.



In a new report entitled “Profit or Pleasure? Exploring the Motivations Behind Treasure Trends”, only a tenth of those questioned said they bought art purely as an investment, whereas 75% cited enjoyment as the key. The study is based on interviews with 2,000 rich people in 17 countries.



Art Basel, a Swiss art fair that is a regular stop for many collectors in June, is certainly about having fun. More than 300 high-end international galleries gather in the otherwise discreet Swiss town for a festive six-day get-together. Collectors, dealers and curators, many of whom look forward to the annual reunion, greet each other with excitement. The sociability of the fair contributes to the aversion that collectors have to going home empty-handed. Jay Smith, an investment advisor at CIBC-Wood Gundy and an important donor of art to museums, admits, “When I don't buy anything, the fair feels dull. Buying makes you feel connected to what is going on.”



Buying art doesn't just offer a sense of community, it engenders feelings of victory, cultural superiority and social distinction. Some say that it even fills a spiritual void. The term most commonly used by collectors, however, is that buying art gives them a “high”. George Economou, a self-made shipping tycoon whose art collection in Athens is open to the public, bought several works at Basel this year, including a wooden sculpture from 1924 by Hermann Scherer for over €1m. He distinguishes between buying at auction, which he says feels “more exciting, more vibrant, more alive”, and buying at an art fair, which may have a longer-lasting thrill. At an auction, a lot is won or lost in a matter of minutes, whereas at a fair, a dealer might give a celebrated collector until the end of the day to commit.

Buying expensive art is very competitive, which for a successful purchaser adds to the sense of conquest at acquisition. “Some collectors always want what other collectors want,” explains Andrew Kreps, a New York dealer. “‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife' is the commandment that most confuses collectors.” At Art Basel dealers with a trophy work on their stands will quietly compile a list of people interested in the work and then offer it to the collector they think offers the best home for the work. Other collectors in the queue will torture themselves, worrying about who is considered more worthy. To ease their feelings, dealers will often say that a museum has reserved the piece. “You suspect it's not true,” one collector explains, “but the defeat is less humiliating if you think your opponent is a major institution like MOMA.”



If buying is generally pleasurable, selling is mostly not. Few collectors are as lucky as Joel Mallin, a New York collector, who sat at the back of a Sotheby's auction in London five years ago, watching two telephone-bidders scrap over his Damien Hirst pill cabinet, “Lullaby Spring”. It fetched a record £9.6m ($19.2m) in June 2007. He had paid well less than $1m for the wall sculpture, which dates from 2002. Speaking at a seminar during Art Basel, Mr Mallin admitted that he doesn't expect ever to repeat the jubilant experience.