The French gentleman who owns the restaurant where I lunch (funny: that reminds me of the 80s phrase ladies who lunch) always comes over to say hello and to enquire about my state of health. Since the arrival of the iPad he has become accustomed to approaching me from the front so as not to startle me as I listen to music as I await attention. But that's not the point: the point is that his late father was a movie projectionist and had accumulated a nice collection of movie posters over the years, but had ever resisted offers to sell. Apparently, fickle public taste has left the collection commercially worthless.
I suspect it's perhaps mirrored in the change in attitude to photography and photographers. I'm sure some of us here may remember a period when our possibly more successful brothers were on a par with rock stars in the female psyche. Today, who gives a toss? Even we have lost the belief.
Perhaps that explains the closures...
Rob