I think my parents would disown me if I decided to pursue a major in art. Now, this is partially because I possess no artistic talent whatsoever. My drawings mainly consist of stick figures gamboling on some wiggly lines that were supposed to represent hills. I like to imagine myself as undiscovered talent, producing abstract art too intricate to be understood by mere mortals. But the truth is that, even if I was accomplished and brilliant, I would not be encouraged to go into a career in art. It would simply not be economically viable. This is because artistic talent is notoriously fickle and hard to evaluate. It cannot be calculated. Not that people haven’t tried. In 2010, Picasso’s Nude, Green Leaves and Bust, was sold for a record $106.5 million in an auction that lasted a little over 8 minutes. Now, that is conviction! To give a sense of perspective, it took me over 8 minutes to decide that I wanted to purchase some green tea gelato for $4.75. (Author’s note: I would highly recommend to all my readers-now that’s a good joke-to go to Iorio’s Gelatoria on East William)
Some people have decided that art can only be valuable if it has a definite message. Most, however end up as subtle as a sledgehammer in a china store. Fortunately for the internet, this new goal-oriented art has led to many unintentionally hilarious Oscar speeches over the years. Teary eyed actors and directors declaring to the world that their movie has a higher purpose than even mere art. Now, every movie must have a cause. James Cameron’s Avatar was about saving the environment, all while reveling in slow motion shots of falling trees and tears, and becoming the highest grossing movies of all time. Yum. I love the smell of hypocrisy in the morning. Movies such as this miss the point entirely. It seems that art can only be art when it arouses some unknowable feeling, some unconscious awakening. Something that is much more understated. Picasso, described it as “a lie that makes us realize truth.” The obvious thing to do, then, is to judge it dispassionately, quantify its emotional value with various calculations, and put it up for sale.
The vagueness surrounding how art should be valued is even more complicated by the cultural associations with being an artist. To be an artist, you can never admit that you do anything for money. The idea of art has become so synonymous with deprivation that any sense of practicality is shunned. Art should be done for its own sake. The prophecy is self-fulfilling. Everyone is told that an artist will never make any money. Those who choose to become artists are told that they can only create art if they don’t do it for the money. To be an artist means that not only must you produce something that pleases everyone, it must also sell for millions, while never admitting that you wanted the fame or the money. The muddled definition of how art should be created, prevents it from being created. The barrier is so high that it is expected that those young dreamers who courageously bet on their talent will not succeed, and instead retreat to safer disciplines. Then, perhaps years later, they will spare a glance for that forgotten novel or the unfinished masterpiece, and shake their heads, older and wiser.
No wonder art is so daunting. It must be created in a certain way with the right intentions. It must be about certain subjects. It must surpass a certain profit margin. Yet, these guidelines are directly opposed to the fundamental core of art. The most infuriating and beautiful thing about art is how utterly subjective it is. It will never submit to the rules that we build around it. So, I think I’ll have to be getting back to those stick figures. Who knows? It could be worth millions.
