Friday, June 26, 2009

Revenge of the Bourgeoisie

Q: "Do you paint portraits or landscapes?"

A: Only when I'm fundraising.



Face it: most people have no interest at all in contemporary art. I cannot count the number of times I have been asked this question when introduced as an 'artist.' It used to mean misery for all of us, as I embarked upon a condensed, tortuous and unappreciated précis of twentieth century art history, until I finally learned to answer with, "I paint with oil on linen. They're big. Here's my website if you're interested."

Moreover, as a painter who attempts to expand the boundaries of self with work that does not belong to a recognizable genre, I endure a significant amount of contempt and dismissal within the contemporary art world itself. Spokespersons from Big-Ass Art Institutions would never admit it, but there is a not-so-subtle bias against painters when it comes to awarding grants, residencies, solo exhibitions and places in the Whitney Biennial; the unspoken but loudly implied subtext is, "God, another painting. That's so boring, so bourgeois, so Been Done Already, so over."

Of course, painting still gets shown; the problem is that it is often shown as a conceptual conceit, as an interestingly retroactive quirk, amongst the sea of progressively quirky Conceptual Installations. The bigger problem is that such painting is often really bad painting, shown for political and financial reasons, not for any integral qualities of form or execution. The plain fact is that the vast majority of contemporary art impresarios have no earthly idea what a good painting looks like, and couldn't care less.

But now that the market is crashing, galleries are closing left and right, and funding for non-profit institutions is drying up, these institutions are perfectly happy to try to re-capitalize on the backs of the lowly portrait painter:
Don't get me wrong, I love Smack Mellon as much as the next guy, but isn't it a little ironic for an organization that cleaves toward site specific installations, and has little interest in contemporary painting, to rely on painters for fundraising? Please, tell me I'm wrong.
I used to assume, naïvely, that the contemporary art world was a hierarchy like any other--a climbable meritocracy. You'd start out as a student, learning technique and getting to know your peers; you'd exhibit in group shows, apply for grants and residencies, and as your work got stronger you'd win some of them. Art dealers and curators, always on the lookout for new talent, would discover your work in registries, open studios and group shows. They'd remember it from panels. Eventually, if you did good work and paid your dues, you'd build yourself a modest career--not necessarily Fame, but regular shows, a dealer, an income.

Ha.

The truth is a lot darker. The real forces which determine the shape of the Art World hierarchy are simple: "I'm More Special Than You" and "Who's Got the Money." It is constructed of creative cul-de-sacs, mediocre minds, territorial spite and disingenuous protestations of 'fairness and equality.' This is why painting is despised, but never absent.

Because people like paintings. Ordinary, dull people go to look at them in galleries, and hang them in their homes. They get inordinately excited about the idea of having their portrait painted. They like beauty, and think that they have some idea of what it is.

This is well-nigh unendurable for people whose entire reason for being is to be Different and Superior. These people must seek out and produce the arcane, the cryptic and the self-righteous; they must speak and write in polysyllabic gibberish; they must, above all, look with contempt upon the bourgeoisie. At the same time, they must convince a handful of staggeringly wealthy people that they share this superiority of being and perception, in order that they may fund their lifestyles.

It wouldn't do for these patrons to spend billions on objects that a construction worker or a soccer mom might look upon freely, appreciate and enjoy; thus, the piles of inaesthetic goop, fortified by hermetic rhetoric and a total absence of standards. For if once you admit to the existence of Quality, what's to prevent hordes of outsiders from achieving it, and thus devaluing your investment in the Few?

So now that the sustaining patrons are much less wealthy, look for painting to come back into style. Or at least, look for affordable art auctions containing art that you, the Common Person, might actually like.




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6 comments:

Spatula said...

"I used to assume, naïvely, that the contemporary art world was a hierarchy like any other--a climbable meritocracy."

Bwahahaha!!!

Oh, I'm sorry, Pretty Lady - I trust you know that I write this, laughing at my own naivete rather than yours. I used to make that very same assumption. Then I went to contemporary galleries, those saloons of sheer madness, enough times to know that my work and that entire world have NOTHING in common. I'm from Mars, those people are from Venus.

And I think you are right, paintings are easier to sell - not only in a recession but pretty much always. It does get tougher to sell air during recessions, though.

Pretty Lady said...

Indeed, Spatula, even after you've realized the truth with your head, it's difficult to emotionally apprehend the fact that it's really not about the work. That if you go back to your studio and pound out yet another body of work, that is stronger, deeper, more expansive and more polished, it won't make any difference. That the work will never stand on its own; that it will be looked at only to be dismissed, on any shifting grounds, because nobody has a vested political interest in taking it seriously on its own terms. You start to wonder what the hell you've invested twenty years of your life for, if the values you hold to while making art are not remotely shared by the people assessing it.

Don't let this cause you any hesitation in your current trajectory, though. You're doing great. I'm merely going through a personal crisis of purpose. I'll get over it presently.

george said...

PL,

I find your pieces on this subject fascinating and your contempt for the system invigorating, even though I have no dog in the fight.

How great would it be to see a book come of this, an indictment and a rallying cry, rallying the troops or at least the remnant. At any rate I hope you are right in hoping painting makes a comeback. I hope the eventual new galleries in better times will be owned and managed either by a new breed or the old cats chastened.

Pretty Lady said...

Thanks, George.

Any book that I might write would have to be something other than journalism, and something other than purely reactive; journalism isn't in line with my temperament, and reactivity isn't in line with my principles. I'm actually a bit confused as to what my trajectory needs to be at this point. Any observations are welcome.

Spatula said...

"That the work will never stand on its own; that it will be looked at only to be dismissed, on any shifting grounds, because nobody has a vested political interest in taking it seriously on its own terms. You start to wonder what the hell you've invested twenty years of your life for, if the values you hold to while making art are not remotely shared by the people assessing it."

Oh, I so much hear you on how disheartening and life-force-draining that is. I suffered from this situation, and sometimes the pencils would literally fall out of my hands because I had no more energy to scratch at those doors.

I think what helped me is seeing how toolish and foolish that whole world is. It is not about art at all! Therefore, I no longer seek their approval or what was that thing in the Bible about pearls and swine? I am not doing that anymore.

I don't even think I am looking for commercial gallery representation at this point. Doing the Queen West Art Walk last year was incredibly liberating because hordes of people saw my work, connected with it, were moved by it, and I got a chance to hear it all and soak in simply having an audience. And what a receptive, engaged audience it was!

On top of that, I sold a medium-sized drawing for 2 grand and change. It took several days to even process this happening.

And all this was available to me for a $200 participation fee. I represented myself. I applied for the show myself. I paid myself a 100% commission. This left me wondering:
A) Why don't you do art festivals as often as possible, fool?
B)If I can access a strongly engaged audience, find grateful collectors and make money, BY MYSELF, why the hell do I need that whole stupid gallery world? I DON'T.

It was really liberating.

"I'm actually a bit confused as to what my trajectory needs to be at this point. Any observations are welcome."

I think that being a mother to a young child is:
A) A hell of a lot of work.
B) A monumental life change and adjustment.
C) A huge existential project and source of fulfillment also.
D) A hell of a lot of work.
E) A hell of a lot of work.
F) A hell of a lot of work.

These items are compounded by the mother in question not being surrounded by a supportive and large extended family, in the midst of a supportive and close-knit community such as a village. They are even further compounded by the mother in question not having access to a good cache of monetary resources.

All these observations are to suggest the thought of just taking it easy, a day at a time type of thing, knowing that things are going to be a bit tough and a bit weird for a while. And that you are under such an incredible set of demands at the moment, that to demand anything more of yourself is probably too much? Also, to feel a bit thrown and confused is probably a logical thing to be for a new mother.

Hope any of this is helpful :-)

Hugs,
S.

BoysMom said...

Remember, too, that all your darling baby really needs is her parents. She doesn't care if you have a fancy house in the suburbs or a little tiny apartment no bigger than a closet. She won't care for years yet.
As far as art goes, we have much the same problem in music, I've noticed, particularly in the professorial branch. Is there not a functional alternative art scene, like there is in music, that runs around at rennaisence fairs, farmers' markets, small town festivals, and so on? I know we had an 'Art Walk' here in our down town not too long ago, but I didn't get down to check it out: out of town guests.
I know you love the city, but I also know cities are the most expensive places to live. Have you considered a less urban locale? Perhaps one that has a good festival every summer? If we've got them out here in the middle of nowhere, I'm sure they exist in the East as well.