THIS IS NOT AN ARTWORK
Understanding the high value of contemporary art.
Written by Samayah Jaramillo
I was strolling through the Metropolitan Museum of Art a few years ago with my boyfriend Brad, who, being an engineer, was a little out of his element surrounded by paintings and sculptures. I dreaded the transition from the more “understandable,” traditional art of Ancient Greece and the Renaissance to the Modern Art wing, where he was sure to question me about why a canvas painted entirely white would be hanging in a prestigious museum. Sure enough, as we rounded the corner into the gallery where Damien Hirst’s infamous stuffed shark floated ominously in a tank of formaldehyde, Brad turned to me and said, “Now — why is that art? There’s a shark like that at my college in the Marine Biology department — so is that art too?” I sighed and carefully tried to assemble the correct explanation in my head, as if having an art degree made me an expert on such volatile things: “Well — he made this with the intent of it being art. Your school meant it as a science exhibit,” I said, hoping to settle the discussion.
“So I could bring my dead deer head in and call it ‘art,’ then it could be hanging in a museum?” Brad asked, purposely trying to push my buttons. On the brink of losing my patience I started to say, “Well not exactly…” he interrupted with, “What makes this shark more special than my shark? I don’t get it.” Not wanting to disturb him further, I decided not to mention the facts that Hirst neither caught nor stuffed the shark himself, and at the moment the piece was worth a whopping 12 million dollars. The most frustrating thing about this exchange was not the fact that Brad just “didn’t understand” the very profound subject of art, but that his questions were completely viable. In fact, they were the very same questions artists themselves scratch their heads over. Art with a capital “A” is as fickle as a labyrinth — it can be controversial, and the success of one artist over another can appear to be completely random.
Economist Don Thompson explores these questions and the real reasons behind the enormous price tags in his book The 12 Million Stuffed Shark; the curious economics of contemporary art. He cracks open the door into the cutthroat world of art auctions at Christie’s and Sotheby’s, two auction powerhouses that make up the crème de la crème of the art scene, where the richest of the rich thoughtlessly lay down seven figures on a large abstract as if purchasing a lawn ornament. Thompson explains that making it in the art world is all about being “branded” rather than having raw talent. Art is similar to fashion in this sense, for instance, you wouldn’t buy that putrid yellow purse with the gaudy clasps at any old bargain outlet, but suddenly the name PRADA makes it an object of beauty, an envious accessory, and an absolute must-have. Thompson explains that owning expensive art is more about status than true appreciation:
Even if you are only moderately rich, there is almost nothing you can buy for 1 million that will generate as much status and recognition as a branded work of contemporary art. Flaunting a Lamborghini might be viewed as vulgar. A country house in the south of France is better, but it better have a small vineyard and a sea view. A great many people can afford a small yacht, but art distinguishes you. A large and recognizable Damien Hirst dot painting on the wall produces an impressed, ‘Wow — isn’t that a Hirst?’
Thompson points out that the aesthetics of a piece are not as important as the price, who is looking to collect it and the aura of the artist himself. Two artists on different sides of the world could produce a piece that is similar in subject and style, but if one of them is a boring housewife and the other is a transvestite who survived a tsunami — who do you think is going to have the highest bid? The intent of artwork is also glorified and elaborated when it is up for sale. Thompson mentions Christie’s catalogue description of Yves Klein’s blue color field painting that sold for 1.8 million in June of 2006:
What did Christie’s catalogue say about this solid blue canvas? ‘These works allowed the viewers to bathe in the infinite, in the luminous spiritual realm of the Blue. Influenced by his experience of Judo, his interest in Rosicrucianism, his fascination with the age of the atomic, Klein had created paintings that have no frames and therefore no edges, and are thus windows into the eternal and endless spiritual realm.’ Imagine being offered a window to the eternal for just 1.8 million.
Another relevant question is how does an artist maintain creative integrity when making art to make a living? In other words — is art made for art’s sake anymore? Contemporary artists seem to be more interested in what they can get away with than the exploration of their own journey. Boston’s Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA) was recently critiqued by Boston Magazine writer Rachel Levitt Slade for “selling out.” In her article titled “The Exhibitionists,” Slade criticized the museum’s lack of interesting new artists and its focus on “safe” modern choices that were successful in the past. The exhibitions that are most likely to draw a crowd are generally those that present a disturbing idea or provoke a negative reaction, and, as people are desensitized, it becomes more and more difficult to elicit such controversy. Slade comments that contemporary art is not meant to be pretty; its purpose is more sinister: “That’s the job of contemporary art; to piss us off. It disturbs, gnaws at the psyche, provokes visceral reactions, and ultimately gets us thinking about the current human condition in a way that even the most sumptuous John Sing
So what does this mean for the future of art? If every strange or shocking idea has been brought to the forefront, is it harder for artists to produce eye- catching work that will launch him or her to “branded” status? Maybe if the stigma of “what sells” were removed, artists could produce new and original work that is true, and unhindered by the color green. Then again, art will always be a business, no matter which side of the easel you stand on.
