
Is the Art Market AI-Proof?
There's no shortage of AI-catastrophising in the arts these days — and, frankly, it's justified.
Sapping our attention away from culture with a capital C, the world is awash in AI slop such as the absurdist AI-generated Ballerina Cappucina and Cappuccino Assassino characters at the heart of the viral 'Italian Brainrot' TikTok videos. Amazon's Kindle marketplace teems with AI-generated facsimiles of bestsellers, just as Spotify has to constantly cull AI cover versions of hits uploaded by royalties chasers. Last year, Hollywood actors and screenwriters went on strike, in part to protect their livelihoods from generative AI, while in March, thousands of artists signed an open letter calling on Christie's to cancel an auction focussed on art made using artificial intelligence.
All of which makes particularly bold Chanel's mid-April announcement that it will fund a new centre focussed on artificial intelligence, machine learning and digital imaging at CalArts — the Los Angeles art school whose alumni include John Baldessari, Barbara Kruger, Catherine Opie, Tim Burton and Sofia Coppola.
'In the ever-changing age of AI, the Chanel Center for Artists and Technology will enable and encourage creatives across disciplines to harness that innovation — to take human imagination further than ever before,' said Chanel's head of arts and culture Yana Peel in a statement.
The budget? The French fashion giant isn't saying but CalArts president Ravi S. Rajan told Artnet: 'I'd hazard a guess it could be the largest for any art school ever. It's super meaningful and transformational.'
To be clear, I'm not an AI optimist. There's no doubt that artificial intelligence threatens jingle-composers, movie extras, stunt people, catalog-essay writers, translators, graphic designers and countless other creative roles. And while AI will benefit creators already operating at the highest levels — allowing them to ramp up production while lowering costs — those breaking into the sector will suffer as it eliminates many entry-level gigs. 'When I started at Christie's, they would hand me a transparency of a Picasso and send me to the library to find all the books in which it was cited,' said Dirk Boll, now the auction house's deputy chairman for 20th and 21st century art. 'AI does that in a nano-second now.'
But the culture sector's beef with AI is also philosophic, tied to the notion that the artist is an auteur not a mere content producer, and that their individual experience and unique pattern of thinking, as well as their technical expertise, is what makes an artwork valuable. Yes, AI may be modern-day magic, admit critics, but it's the kind of magic that destroys cultural value.
This argument is only half-logical, however. Like the Renaissance and Old Master painters, artists such as Jeff Koons and Takashi Murakami produce work using scores of assistants. And ever since Marcel Duchamp's seminal work 'Fountain' — a urinal he signed with the mysterious pseudonym 'R. Mutt' and placed in the 1917 Society of Independent Artists salon — artists have created valuable works by recontextualising found objects.
So, who is the Duchamp of the AI age? 'This is new technology, and artists are still discovering its capacities,' said Hans Ulrich Obrist, artistic director of London's Serpentine Galleries, which went deep on tech a decade ago when Obrist arrived there and installed the artworld's first institutional CTO. 'TVs were around for a long time before Nam June Paik started making them into art.'
That said, there are already major artists working with AI. Lynn Hershman Leeson has been using nascent AI for a quarter-century in work exploring women's identity. Ian Cheng's 2018 AI-powered piece 'BOB (Bag of Beliefs)' interacted with gallery visitors, displaying a wide range of personalities, before going further. 'One morning at 6am, the Serpentine security called me to say that the video screens had suddenly turned on,' recalled Obrist with glee. 'BOB had decided to open the show early!'
Currently running in Los Angeles at Sprüth Magers gallery, Jon Rafman's solo show 'Proof of Concept' overwhelms visitors with an unending stream of AI content from the fictional Main Stream Media network (MSM),' including videos from the AI popstar Cl0udyH3art, which Rafman created.
In this sense, we see visual artists doing what they always do: engage with new developments in society, birthing new artistic content. But it's hardly the paradigm shift we see in other fields, where AI has led to unicorn companies, mass layoffs and entirely new business models.
In the music world, for example, the most interesting AI-engaged artist is the avant-garde musician Holly Herndon, who in 2019 created Spawn, an AI singer that she wove into her album 'PROTO.' Two years later she released Holly+, a deepfake of her own voice and allowed other musicians to use it, sharing IP rights with Herndon. In 2023, as AI became widely available, Herndon and her partner Matt Dryhurst took things a step further, launching the software startup Spawning to defend fellow creators by allowing them to identify when their art had been used in training AI, so the they could demand their work be removed from the data set — unless they were paid.
The art industry, by contrast, seems unlikely to be disrupted by AI. Per Art Basel and UBS's latest annual report, art is a $57.5 billion market, too small to justify giant AI investments. And given the personality-driven (and often highly irrational) nature of selling and buying art, where the human touch remains essential to justifying high prices, it's hard to imagine AI could play a real role — at least in the upper echelons of the market, which account for the lion's share of financial value and where the few hundred collectors that matter are wooed over lunch, not via algorithmic entreaties.
'Even if Warhol didn't produce every silkscreen with his own hands, collectors believe that each piece was his idea, and that's important,' said Boll. He recalls that a decade ago when German artist Anselm Reyle was among the art world's hottest artists, and thus producing a ton of work, 'a rumour circulated that he had his studio assistants make work 'in his style,' which he then approved after the fact. While this may not have been true, it damaged his market.' 'Sinners' Winners
Made for a mere $90 million and starring Michael B Jordan as identical twins who launch a Mississippi juke joint, the vampire movie 'Sinners' came out surprisingly strong during its mid-April opening weekend, scoring the biggest post-pandemic debut for an original film. But in Hollywood, the big 'Sinners' story was the deal that director Ryan Coogler had struck with Warner Brothers. Leveraging the power that came with helming the hit 'Black Panther' films, the director pushed for a 'first-dollar' deal — meaning that he immediately made money when the film hit theaters, rather than only once the studio recoups its investment. In addition, all financial rights to the film revert to Coogler after 25 years. On the movie's opening day New York Magazine's Vulture site published a widely read piece titled 'Hollywood Execs Fear Ryan Coogler's Sinners Deal 'Could End the Studio System.'' The article anonymously quoted execs who implied that a struggling Warner had broken rank and caved to Coogler, then wrapped up by reporting that 'the Coogler deal has come to be regarded as Hollywood's latest (if not nearly greatest) extinction-level threat.
In response, Coogler said the deal was catalysed by the 'Sinners' plot surrounding Jordan's twin characters' fight to establish a Black-owned club in the Jim Crow South. Getting first-dollar gross plus reversion-rights is rare even among A-listers. But white directors such as Quentin Tarantino and Richard Linklater have struck similar deals in the past, leading many commentators to suggest the furore was ignited as much by the colour of Coogler's skin as by the content of his contract. The good news is that the film had already grossed over $320 million as Arts Radar went live, far more than expected, so by now everyone involved is making money. A Venetian Tragedy
With less than a year to go before its May 2026 opening, the Venice Art Biennial — easily the most important event of its type on the global art stage — is facing unprecedented challenges. Shortly before she was slated to announce the theme of her biennial, Koyo Kouoh, the Cameroon-born art curator who was set to artistic direct the event suddenly died, at age 57, of breast cancer.
Insiders say that she planned to exhibit roughly 65 artists, a fifth as many as her predecessor Adriano Pedrosa, and many of those had already been chosen. The biennale is expected to announce the new director this week. But given the very personal way in which Kouoh planned to work with the artists she had picked, it will be a challenge for whomever steps into her shoes. Running such an important event, in a city where everything must arrive by boat, with a tiny allocated budget is already a tall order without having to use another curator's roster.
There's also a strong political dimension here: Kouoh would have been the first African woman to lead the Venice Biennale (and only the second African, after Okwui Enwezor, who also died in his fifties).
And to make the 2026 biennale run-up thornier still, the closely watched American pavilion is getting sucked into the Trump vortex: The pavilion application, only recently published, says that the US State Department seeks to 'advance international understanding of American values by exposing foreign audiences to innovative and compelling works of art that reflect and promote American values.' Of course, applicants can't have DEI programs in place — easy for most artists, but perhaps much harder for the institutional curator who proposes them. Regardless of who is chosen, they will be working on a radically shorter timeline than any of their predecessors, and the Trump administration has repeatedly suggested defunding the National Endowment for the Arts, which administers the pavilion. Will there even be a 2026 US pavilion? Kathleen Ash-Milby, who co-commissioned the American presence in 2024 told Vanity Fair: 'I honestly think it might already be past the point of no return.' What Else I'm Tracking
Pharrell Williams's Auction Platform Joopiter Teamed with Martha Stewart for First Contemporary Art Sale [The Art Newspaper]
Larry David's 'My Dinner With Hitler' Essay Pokes Fun At Bill Maher's White House Meal With Trump [Deadline]
A$AP Rocky Shades Eric Adams, Says He's Going to Run for NYC Mayor: 'I'm Dead Fucking Serious' [Variety]
Reunited Couple Kanye West and Bianca Censori Sue His Dentist for Malpractice, Providing Nitrous Oxide [The Hollywood Reporter]
Having led Art Basel from 2007 to 2022, Marc Spiegler now works on a portfolio of cultural-strategy projects. He is President of the Board of Directors of Superblue, works with the Luma Foundation, and serves on the boards of the ArtTech and Art Explora foundations. In addition to consulting for companies such as Prada Group, KEF Audio and Sanlorenzo, Spiegler has long been a Visiting Professor in cultural management at Università Bocconi in Milan and recently launched the Art Market Minds Academy.
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Los Angeles Times
an hour ago
- Los Angeles Times
Where artists tippled, an ode to Cole's French dip: L.A. arts and culture this weekend
Artists are formed by the spaces they spend time in — and in the case of countless Los Angeles artists, writers and musicians, that place was the city's oldest restaurant and bar, Cole's French Dip, which is slated to close on Aug. 2. Founded in 1908 by Harry Cole in downtown's historic Pacific Electric building, then the city's primary railway transit hub, the legendary public house is credited with inventing the French dip sandwich after its chef dipped bread in au jus to soften it for a patron who had trouble chewing. (Note: Philippe the Original in Chinatown takes issue with this story, claiming full credit for the juicy culinary delight.) The possibility of an apocryphal legend aside, Cole's went on to become one of the very best bars in the area, attracting a solidly blue-collar crowd over the years, including the notoriously ribald, drunken poet Charles Bukowski. The restroom even sported a placard that read, 'Charles Bukowski pissed here,' an unflinchingly literal claim to fame frequently mentioned in self-guided tours of literary L.A. (Barney's Beanery in West Hollywood has a less off-color plaque at its bar in reference to Jim Morrison, who allegedly relieved himself on the spot without heading for the urinals.) I like to think of Bukowski with a beer and a shot of whiskey in front of him, scribbling away on a napkin at the bar in Cole's. I've done the same over the years, having discovered the bar in 1999 when I first moved to Los Angeles. Downtown was not on the up-and-up in those days, and Cole's had fallen on hard times but was still beloved. My rock band played a few shows in its back room, and I fell in love with what was at the time a true dive bar — a place where the occasional unhoused patron spent his Social Security check alongside a smattering of unknown, paint-spattered artists who stopped by from nearby studios. I remember meeting a musician there one night who invited me and a friend to his 6th Street loft and showed me literally thousands of records stacked like a maze throughout the space, so high that you couldn't see over them, so many that I wondered if he had space to sleep. Cole's was that kind of bar — a refuge for artists and misfits, a place that didn't care what your story was as long as you had a good one. The last time I went to Cole's before downtown bar magnate Cedd Moses (artist Ed Moses' son) bought it and restored it to its early 20th century glory, a rat ran over my foot as I sat at a torn, tufted banquette. I love a good dive (my husband proposed to me at the now-shuttered Brown Jug in San Francisco's Tenderloin District), but that was a bridge too far, even for me. Moses has long had a deep affinity for dive bars and, in the aughts, went about transforming and resurrecting a number of spaces in downtown L.A., including Cole's, in ways that stayed true to their historic integrity. His 213 Nightlife Group (now called Pouring With Heart), was integral to downtown's prepandemic boom. That downtown is once again suffering from the kind of trouble and malaise that beset it in the '80s and '90s should be cause for great concern. On the bright side, it's times like these when artists can again afford to move in. Maybe they can rally to save Cole's. I'm arts and culture writer Jessica Gelt, warning you that there is now often a line to get into Cole's, but encouraging you to go anyway. Paying your respects to the classic institution is worth the wait. Bring a good book and a sketch pad. 'Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair'Quentin Tarantino presents rare screenings of the complete version of his four-hour martial arts epic that brought together 'Vol. 1' and 'Vol. 2,' with additional flourishes. Uma Thurman stars as the Bride in a quest for revenge against the title character (David Carradine) and his band of assassins (Lucy Liu, Daryl Hannah, Vivica A. Fox and Michael Madsen). Added flair: It's the filmmaker's personal 35 mm print screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006, so it has French Thursday-July 28. Vista Theater, 4473 Sunset Drive. Artemisia Gentileschi in NaplesCurator Davide Gasparotto discussses the Italian artist's work from the period she spent in Naples beginning in 1630. Gentileschi quickly became one of the most in-demand painters in the region, and Gasparotto illustrates the large-scale works, including the newly restored 'Hercules and Omphale,' she completed during this time.2 p.m. Saturday. J. Paul Getty Museum, 1200 Getty Center Drive, L.A. George StraitChris Stapleton and Little Big Town join the country legend on this stadium tour in support of his latest album, 'Cowboys and Dreamers.'5:45 p.m. Saturday. SoFi Stadium, 1001 S. Stadium Drive, Inglewood. TaikoProjectThe L.A.-based taiko drumming group marks its 25th anniversary with a one-night-only concert featuring its innovative percussion work, plus guests including the Grammy-winning Latinx group Quetzal and multi-instrument soloist Sumie Kaneko, performing vocals, on the koto and the shamisen.7 p.m. Saturday. Walt Disney Concert Hall, 111 S. Grand Ave., downtown L.A. 'Bye Bye Tiberias'Filmmaker Lina Soualem portrays four generations of Arab women, including her mother, actor Hiam Abbass, who carry the burden of history within them and deal with an evolving meaning of home. Preceded by a 1988 short, 'Measures of Distance,' in which filmmaker Mona Hatoum combines letters from her mother in war-torn Beirut with layered images and voice to question stereotypes of Arab womanhood. Both films are part of the UCLA Film and Television Archive's series '(Dis)placement: Fluctuations of Home.'7:30 p.m. Saturday. Billy Wilder Theater, UCLA Hammer Museum, 10899 Wilshire Blvd., Westwood. 'Berta, Berta'Andi Chapman directs the West Coast premiere of Angelica Chéri's love story about a Black man seeking redemption in 1920s Mississippi. DeJuan Christopher and Kacie Rogers ('Furlough's Paradise' at the Geffen) 19-Aug. 25; 8 p.m. Fridays, Saturdays and Mondays; 4 p.m. Sundays. The Echo Theater Company. Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave. GiselleAmerican Ballet Theatre dances this romantic tale set in the Rhineland forests where betrayal, revenge and forgiveness play out. With the Pacific Symphony.7:30 p.m. Thursday and July 25; 2 and 7:30 p.m. July 26; 1 p.m. July 27. Segerstrom Center for the Arts, 600 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa. The Los Angeles Philharmonic opened its 103rd season at the Hollywood Bowl earlier this month, and all was not well, writes Times classical music critic Mark Swed, noting low attendance, the cancellation of highly anticipated shows featuring Gustavo Dudamel with the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra and a general edginess that has taken root in the city since the intensive ICE raids began. ''A Beautiful Noise' is a jukebox musical that understands the assignment,' begins Times theater critic Charles McNulty's review of the show playing at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre through July 27. Anyone familiar with McNulty's taste knows this is high praise coming from a critic who often doesn't take a shine to the genre. This musical gets a pass because it exists simply to pay tribute to Neil Diamond's beloved catalog with 'glorious' singing of 'American pop gold.' Former American Idol winner Nick Fradiani delivers a 'thrilling vocal performance,' McNulty notes. The New Hollywood String Quartet celebrated its 25th anniversary with a four-day festival at the Huntington's Rothenberg Hall, and Swed was there to capture the scene. The festivities conjured the magic of the legendary studio musicians who first formed the quartet in the late 1930s. Classical music fans and lovers of cinematic scores didn't always see eye to eye, but it was Hollywood that 'produced the first notable American string quartet,' Swed writes. McNulty also reviewed two shows in Theatricum Botanicum's outdoor season: 'The Seagull: Malibu' and 'Strife,' both of which are reimagined in the American past. Ellen Geer directed the former, setting Chekhov's play in the beach city of Malibu during the 1970s. Geer co-directs John Galsworthy's 1909 social drama alongside Willow Geer — moving the action from the border of England and Wales to Pennsylvania in the 1890s. The plays are ambitious, if uneven, writes McNulty. The Hammer Museum is back with its annual summer concert series, which is free as always. There are two upcoming shows: Very Be Careful with Healing Gems and DJ Eléanora, July 31; and Open Mike Eagle with Jordan Patterson and Aug. 19. Ann Philbin, former director and current director emeritus of the Hammer Museum at UCLA, was named this year's Getty Prize recipient. She chose to donate its accompanying, pay-it-forward $500,000 grant to NPR and its Los Angeles member stations, KCRW and LAist. The 'Jesus Christ Superstar' casting news keeping coming. Earlier this week, it was announced that Josh Gad will play King Herod and Phillipa Soo will play Mary Magdalene in Andrew Lloyd Webber's iconic musical, staged at the Hollywood Bowl in early August and starring Cynthia Erivo as Jesus and Adam Lambert as Judas. The Carpenter Center announced its 2025–2026 season, including an evening with Sandra Bernhard and Mandy Patinkin in concert; a cabaret series that opens with Melissa Errico performing Barbra Streisand's songbook; a dance series featuring Alonzo King LINES Ballet; a 'Wow!' series that includes the Peking Acrobats; and a Sunday afternoon concert series with a special tribute to the songs of John Lennon and Harry Nilsson. — Jessica Gelt Hot cheese bread and meat pies? Count me in!


Time Business News
an hour ago
- Time Business News
The Birth of Albanian Cinema: From Its Origins to the Present Day
From early silent film screenings in the late 19th century to a state-controlled film industry under communism, and, finally, to its modern revival with an Albanian TV app in every ethnic household, Albanian cinema has undergone dramatic transformations. This article explores the birth and development of Albanian cinema, examining its origins, the influence of communism, post-communist struggles, and its current direction. Film screenings in Albania date back to 1897, with the first public exhibitions taking place in Shkodër and Tirana. Early Albanian cinema was largely influenced by foreign traveling film companies, particularly Italian and French producers. The first known Albanian film exhibitor was Kolë Idromeno, a photographer and painter, who showed films to aristocrats and the public in 1908 or 1909. By the 1920s and 1930s, Albania had several movie theaters, particularly in major cities like Shkodër, Tirana, and Durrës. However, the country lacked its own film production facilities. Instead, foreign film companies, such as the British Charles Urban Trading Company and the French Albert Kahn Archive, produced ethnographic films documenting Albania's landscapes and traditions. During the Italian occupation of Albania (1939-1943), Mussolini established the Tomorri Society in 1942 to produce films in Albania. One of the earliest Albanian films shot with a local cast was Takim në liqen (Encounter at the Lake) in 1943. However, Albania's true cinematic expansion came after World War II. Viewers can now easily revisit classic films or catch new releases through digital platforms that allow them to s hiko kanale shqip—bringing Albanian cinema directly into homes around the globe. Following the communist takeover in 1944, Albania's film industry was fully nationalized. The country leader Enver Hoxha followed Soviet and later Chinese models of socialist realism, using film to promote communist ideals and suppress dissent. The National Filmmaking Enterprise was established in 1947, producing newsreels and documentaries that glorified the regime. In 1952, the New Albania Kinostudio was founded in Tirana, becoming the only film studio in Albania during the communist period. The first Albanian feature film, Tana (1958), directed by Kristaq Dhamo, was a romantic drama that subtly promoted socialist themes. Other notable early films include Skanderbeg (1953), a Soviet-Albanian co-production about Albania's national hero. Throughout the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, Kinostudio produced over 200 feature films and hundreds of documentaries and newsreels, many of which had strict ideological narratives. Popular genres included partisan war films, historical dramas, and working-class hero stories. Despite the rigid control, certain directors, such as Dhimitër Anagnosti and Viktor Gjika, pushed creative boundaries within the limits of socialist realism. By the late 1980s, Albanian cinema had peaked in output, with around 13 films produced yearly. However, with Hoxha's regime becoming increasingly repressive and Albania isolated from the rest of the world, cinema remained largely cut off from international trends and innovation. With the fall of communism in 1991, Albania's film industry suffered a massive decline. Kinostudio Shqipëria e Re was dismantled and split into different entities, including the Albanian National Film Archive and Albafilm Studios. Many filmmakers lost state funding, and cinema attendance plummeted as TV and foreign films flooded the market. In the 1990s and early 2000s, Albanian cinema saw sporadic productions, often tackling themes of transition, crime, and migration. Directors like Gjergj Xhuvani (Slogans, 2001) and Fatmir Koçi (Tirana Year Zero, 2001) emerged as important voices in a struggling industry. However, financial instability and lack of institutional support made it difficult for filmmakers to thrive. Since the 2010s, Albanian cinema has experienced a revival, thanks to international co-productions, film festivals, and digital technology. The Tirana International Film Festival (TIFF), launched in 2003, has played a crucial role in promoting new Albanian films and connecting them with global audiences. One of the biggest breakthroughs came in 2011, when The Forgiveness of Blood, directed by Joshua Marston, won the Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival. More recently, Erenik Beqiri's The Van (2019) was nominated for the Short Film Palme d'Or at Cannes, marking the first Albanian presence at Cannes since 1954. Amnesty (2011) – A drama about the impact of Albania's post-communist prison amnesty. The Van (2019) – A powerful short film nominated at Cannes. A Shelter Among the Clouds (2018) – A poetic exploration of faith and identity. Open Door (2019) – A film tackling family and migration issues. Alexander (2023) – A recent documentary exploring Albanian history. From its humble beginnings in traveling film screenings to its state-controlled socialist realism era, and finally, to its modern resurgence, Albanian cinema has reflected the country's historical struggles and cultural identity. While the communist era left behind a wealth of propaganda films, it also provided a foundation for technical filmmaking skills. Today, with new filmmakers, digital platforms, and international collaborations, Albania's film industry is stepping into a new era of storytelling. As more Albanian films gain global recognition, the country's cinematic identity continues to evolve, ensuring that its stories reach audiences far beyond its borders. TIME BUSINESS NEWS


Indianapolis Star
2 hours ago
- Indianapolis Star
Here ye, hear ye! Birdsell Castle in Indiana is now for sale. Everything we know about the property
If you've ever dreamed of being the king or queen of your own castle, your dream could actually become reality in Southern Indiana. The 8-acre property that is known as Birdsell Castle is now for sale. The property includes a large cinderblock structure that could be straight out of a fairytale. Here's what to know about Birdsell Castle. Birdsell Castle is located at 6900 Dave Carr Road in Charlestown, Indiana. David Birdsell purchased the castle in summer 2021. He put in his offer sight unseen within its first week on the market, he said, and though he was offered $75,000 by another interested buyer to rescind his offer, he refused, and ultimately closed the deal for $400,000. Before it was a modern-day castle, the property served as a water reservoir for an Army ammunition plant. Prior owner Mackey Griffin transformed the abandoned building into a castle in the 1990s. After Griffin died in early 2020, his wife, Peggy Griffin, sold the property, telling the Courier Journal at the time what made the property special. 'Because it's so unusual,' she said. 'That's the only thing I can say." Birdsell found himself building stages and horse stables and jousting infrastructure to host Renaissance Fairs and themed events. This pulled focus away from his initial plan of renovating rooms to rent out. 'I got involved, and probably what I should say is distracted by, doing Renaissance fairs and things that just pop up from owning a castle,' he said. Over the years, the castle has hosted medieval era and Renaissance festivals. He's welcomed Viking and pirate gatherings. There's been weddings in the dungeon. Having never attended a Renaissance fair before moving to Indiana, Birdsell was soon immersed in the pageantry and spectacle. 'It kind of went to my head a little bit during the Renaissance fairs,' he said. 'I think their slogan was a castle, a king and a fair, and I was the king. And so I was dressed accordingly and would meet people and it was very fun.' Officially listed as a 2.5-bath, 3-bedroom house, Birdsell said the property has eight bedrooms and eight baths in various stages of completion. Living space totals some 20,000 square feet, he said, not counting a 12-car garage. Then there's the courtyard inside the 20-foot-tall castle walls. 'It's a big property and it's a lot of maintenance, and I'm starting to get older so I have to slow down a little bit,' Birdsell said. Birdsell intends to keep the listing — with Denise Taylor of Green Tree Real Estate — up for six months before taking it down for listing at a later, undefined date. Castle furnishings such as iron chandeliers, suits of armor and ornate tables and chairs aren't part of the sale price, but Birdsell said he's open to negotiation. 'It's definitely not for a conservative buyer, people that accept the traditional way of living,' he said. 'I mean, imagine having your kids picked up by a school bus in front of your castle. I think the buyer is going to be somebody that sees the property and the minute they step into it, they have no question in their mind they want to be here.' The 8-acre property hit the market in May for nearly $1.3 million and as of July is listed for $995,000. The structure includes a traditional kitchen and living room alongside a blacksmith shop, vampire crypt and apothecary.