THE GREAT DISCONNECT

Let's not forget how short lived the fine arts truly are. No older than the blink of an eye in the history of humankind. I think of today's artworld establishment as a frantic teen overwhelmed by puberty.

In the previous essay, "The What, Without The Why," we took a look at the public pulse on the Arts. We discovered that most everyone obediently loves and respects the arts + culture. Unfortunately, we have learned that folks just don't know why.

It's funny how the little things can grow into big ones, slowly over time. How spit on a hot sidewalk can mutate into Godzilla.
Less than two hundred years ago, artists began to trade their art works for essentials, like food, drink and shelter. One fine day, an art lover paid cash and everything changed. Today, we have the mega-gallery and the Freeport.

The First Voices

The business of art was the first to speak publicly. The language of the sale was our first descriptor.

Salesmanship is flattery-based. The art sales pitch found its legs over the decades. High-mindedness, a toady old favorite, promises elevation and superiority. Esteemed good taste is always the goal. "Since you took a chance on the Monet, I think you might like the work of the new Fauvism."

The fine details of the sales presentation, the window to the artworld, defined the aspirations and the apathies.

Language

The arts have always had a secret language. Not so very long ago, someone attributed the word impressionism to a painting on a wall. The term stuck. Ditto surrealism, cubism, afrowesternism and all the rest.

As artistic communities began to grow, so did the terminology. Like Babel, language kept many smart people at bay.

With growth, the stakes became higher. Art works were no longer sold as an accessory in a home furnishing shoppe. A few stores began to sell art work exclusively and became art galleries. Salespeople need words to persuade you to acquire a work of great value. These retailers would later paint their walls bright white.

Academia

The birth of art academia seduced legions around the world. New and exciting expert voices flourished. How do you define the inexplicable? New opinion and its language were introduced. These exciting messages spoke to many.

Brick and mortar art schools evolved away from skills, and found great reception in academia. You can even earn a degree, a doctorate or tenure.

Conceptualism sired brave new ideas and a very opaque vocabulary. Like a Cali cult, you get it or you don't. You're in or you're out. Circle the wagons. In academia, a devoted audience lay eager, wanting more.

Art academia, in the attempt to defend its growing new self, shut the doors to the inconsequential and mindless majority. The snoot was set.

Art academia was big business. Today, the future looks very grim indeed.

Return On Investment

Like everything, the fine art world must sustain itself. Every day, I thank the One Percent for buying an artwork, shipping it to their summer home and hiring a handler to hang it on the wall.

Bless the gallerist for their courage under fire and ability to pivot whimsically. I understand why the mega-galleries have to sell their program. I forgive the arts media establishment for focusing their content entirely upon their advertisers and subscribers; the media has to eat too.

The world is based upon trade and exchange, a return on investment. The Artist's Bubble needs to touch down occasionally to smell the terra firma.

J'Accuse!

We, the artists, are to blame. In the glow and warmth of graduate school, the artist was told how to speak and how to frame their work in a greater context than one's own self. Successful communication demanded the artist sing to the choir. Your grade is based upon it.

Outside of the academic bubble, the artist sang the same song. Like nails on a chalkboard, regular folks heard a meaningless cacophony. Art issues have no relevancy at the supermarket checkout.

Snoot rules the world, in every class of society. Art is very snobbish. It has to be. It hurts when someone says, "My kid coulda painted that."

We can use our words to build walls, as a defense. Or we can command words to create new worlds and new crowds.

Making Markets and Inviting Audiences

The artworld is running amok, screaming, "We need new audiences." The artists are shouting, "New markets!"

If the establishment so badly wants to baptize new congregants, then why are they still using the tired old hymnal?

Forgiveness

I guess it feels good to cross our arms, stomp our feet, and lift our noses. We certainly do enough of it. Life is hard for an artist. The road runs rough, physically and emotionally.

Recently, I again got the dull, blank stare. The reply that every artist knows all too well. The look of absolute disconnection and incomprehension. This time I got it from some very smart people. Instead of flipping them the bird or slapping them silly, I dove deep, not into the bottle, but into the mechanics of why.

As humans, no one knows why we do what we do. It's usually a defense attorney who explains it best.

Ditto, artists. We have to take back the narrative. We must rewrite the subtitles.

Art making is the most humanly emotional action. How do we put that into words? What's the new context? If art is relevant, so must the artist be. To speak relevantly, we must speak honestly and personally.

In the language of waiting at the supermarket checkout. Natch.

Art Report Today .com