Unlike in a “real” gallery, where an artist would have to worry about the effects of the environment (such as works getting wet and moldy) Filthy’s Second Life space is open-air, with a lagoon running through it. You can even take an inner-tube tour.

“Artists who make art in Second Life—at least the good ones—really capitalize on the fact that their creations are not confined to earthly laws of gravity and physics,” Lipsky told me. “Since much of my artwork is inspired by people, places, and events in Second Life, I’m blurring the gap between Second Life and real life.”

He added that marketing is much easier in Second Life, where people tend to be less inhibited and more willing to listen.

And the aggressive self-promotion he has done in the virtual word has paid off in real life. As a result of his Second Life celebrity, Lipsky has been featured in the Boston Globe, invited to exhibit in shows all over the world, and sold a glut of works—so many that he has been able to quit his day job as executive director of the Munroe Center for the Arts.

Lipsky’s real-life artworks start at $1,000, while Filthy sells the jpeg versions for 4,000 to 30,000 “Linden Dollars,” Second Life’s currency (the exchange rate as of May 22 was about $1 U.S. to 266 Linden Dollars). That price is pretty steep for a Second Life work; other artists told me that as little as 100 Linden Dollars is considered expensive because jpegs are available in unlimited editions, and it doesn’t cost anything to duplicate them.

However, Lipsky says he does limit reproduction of some of his works. Songs of the IBM, which was a commission, is unavailable for purchase in real life or Second Life.

mrY Tully

If Filthy Fluno represents the sleek, market-driven side of Second Life art, Campbell’s avatar, mrY Tully, is the opposite—he takes a more casual approach and loves the Second Life art scene because of its great distance from the complexities and economics of the real-life equivalent.

Campbell has been creating experimental artworks in Second Life for more than a year, and he has used those works as part of his real-life thesis project at Yale. While he incorporates ideas from his oil-on-canvas paintings into his Second Life works, he also makes pieces that are unique to Second Life, using the program’s interface and building tools.

Campbell’s online creations—such as a parade of huge, levitating sculptures that spans nine city blocks, and a mysterious, unfinished game where participants enter a series of floating rooms in a quest to solve a riddle—could never be replicated in real life, given zoning restrictions, the monumental space and funds required, and, of course, gravity. But on Second Life they are hardly a stretch.

“Second Life offers more,” Campbell said, as he introduced me (or should I say, Inky?) to a “sandbox”—one of several open spaces Linden Labs provides in Second Life for users to experiment with building and testing objects.

In the sandbox, MrY zoomed around at Inky’s feet, and, like a magician, kept making more and more artworks pop up in the space. There were 3-D sculptures, paintings (some incorporating the “texture” of Campbell’s real-life works), intricate installations, giants, and—my favorite—a pair of flying fish that trailed behind Inky and kept popping like balloons. “You can definitely do things [here] you can’t do in real life,” Campbell said.

Soon, mrY’s friend, (the walking traffic light I told you about) who goes by the name CameronSabroso Montgolfier, joined us to show off an exquisitely detailed miniature golf course he had built (Campbell said he has been collaborating with Cameron on Second Life for several months, but he still doesn’t know his real name).

The two boasted about their avatars for a while, informed Inky she looked too “normal” (even with the wings), and explained that creating wacky personas is just as important to Second Life artists as the artworks themselves.

“We spend a lot of time talking about them,” Campbell said.