Does anyone care about art anymore? Part I
Hello from the beach, which I blame for the tardiness of this post. However, if you are at the beach, too, here’s some ocean-side reading for you. Part II to follow next week :)
DOES ANYONE CARE ABOUT ART ANYMORE? This is a BIG question I’ve been mulling over lately and I am finally ready to dig into it what with my new time commitment to Chouette. Before you jump in with your own answers, let me clarify a few things. First, I am not talking about the general public. I already know they don’t care and I wouldn’t bother musing on why (just yet at least.) Second, I am talking about actual “art” people. Buckle up because this is sure to be a meandering and bumpy ride.
Let’s begin with what prompted this question in the first place. I, like many other Millennial women, spend a lot of time on Instagram. I largely know that there’s nothing there for me, but I compulsively check it anyway like someone who keeps opening their fridge in hopes that the perfect snack has magically materialized. Granted, I do discover some great artists on there (big post on them coming soon) and if you follow me, you know I post an #artoftheday to my stories, you guessed it, daily. I started doing this after I stopped posting #cardoftheday back when I was publicly offering Tarot readings, and I felt naked without the pink circle around my profile picture denoting that I had a story to view. Aside from art of the day, though, most everything else on there either annoys me or makes me buy something—two states of mind that I am actively trying to move away from in this economy! Sometimes what annoys me makes for great content, however, so here we are.
I was recently on a podcast hosted by two Millennial women who are not in the art world. In fact, they’re in the beauty industry, but they interview a lot of Charlotte-based entrepreneurs and creatives. Their podcast is my guilty pleasure— its bubbly, optimistic atmosphere sometimes seems so distant from my brooding, critical and often cynical art environs. Over the past several months, I’ve been bingeing it and decided to take it upon myself to represent the art world’s perspective amongst their growing mosaic of creative insight. I sent them a DM, offering myself as a guest, and much to my surprise, they enthusiastically accepted. In the interview, they asked me how big Instagram is in the art world. I could only reply with the truth: H U G E. While I didn’t go here on the podcast, what I really think is that Instagram is actually consuming the art world alive. It’s the reason I don’t think anyone cares about art anymore—because it has simultaneously driven this disinterest and exposed where it already existed in equal measure.
How has Instagram driven a disinterest in art? Well, first I will have to define what an interest in art is for the purposes of this exposition. People who are interested in art are interested in the art itself. They could be interested in certain works of art from the perspective of their era, style or creator. They love art history and the content of artworks. They consider the context in which artworks were made and they enjoy seeking out ways to see more art. They might visit galleries or museums not to be seen, but to see art. Seeing art might similarly drive them to donate to arts organizations or purchase works of art from artists or galleries. They might also make art themselves and become consumed with mastering their craft. They research the best practices for making their type of art in the most archival way possible because they respect art enough to make it well and make it last. They seek out a community of artists not so much to have a social group, but to talk shop and get critiqued and therefore be pushed to grow. They’ll also talk philosophy as readily as they’ll talk materials. I could go on, but perhaps you get the point.
Armed with our definition of “interest in art,” let’s move on to Instagram. Instagram, for all intents and purposes, is an image-sharing app. That seems perfect for art, right? Well, it certainly was… A lot of artists made it big on Instagram, finding a platform to widely share what they were making with interested audiences and connect with other artists around the world. I’m sure you’ve heard of or experienced such a thing yourself. As you’ve probably noticed, however, Instagram has moved far off images and into video. Reels are the next frontier, pushing users to format their content into short videos no longer than 90 seconds. You can write a caption, but it probably won’t be viewed unless you direct viewers to it in your video. If you’re a painter, you might have to pan around your studio or film yourself working to fit into this style of content. Or you might have to do something worse…
Enter the influencer. You might have thought the art world is immune to influencers, but it most certainly is not. It actually breeds them. I don’t mean artists who have partnerships with paint companies, either. I mean this crop of artists that almost act like lifestyle models. You know the ones—they show themselves “painting,” but they mostly show themselves living and living well. They fill their stories with artfully composed snapshots of $12 coffees and crumbling pastries. They make those “show your art and then show you,” Reels where they show a mediocre painting and then do a spin in an expensive outfit. They tag their clothes and accessories in posts, they broadcast their lavish vacations (with a hint of mystery, of course) and they pan around their cavernous, warehouse-like studios that must cost 5 figures to rent. I wouldn’t gripe about this much at all if it weren’t for the fact that many of them are exhibiting in good galleries. Do they make good art? Typically no. Do they have huge followings because of their choice to act as influencers? Yes, they do. And galleries these days consider an artist’s social media following when deciding whether or not to represent them. Artists with large followings are more likely to get representation at higher tier galleries than ones with smaller followings…
OK, so artists are taking advantage of the modern era’s new means of being an exhibitionist and galleries are bottom feeding. Quelle surprise, you may say. I still think it’s icky, but what about the art critics? Are they above the fray? If I asked you who the most famous art critic working today is, I’m sure you’d immediately think of Jerry Saltz from New York Magazine. He currently has 683,000 followers on Instagram alone. Is he a good writer? My opinion has always been no. I think his writing is clunky and not terribly sophisticated. Now, that’s just my opinion, so I don’t hold it as gospel truth and it’s not what I use to pass judgements on him, but I do have a hypothesis as to why he’s so famous, and it’s not about his writing. If you follow him on Instagram, you know what he posts about. It’s a tiny bit of art, a LOT of politics and too many memes—many of which are kind of…gross. If you follow him, you know what I mean. He really is a goofy character, even if you agree with some or all of what he’s saying. Again, much like the artists, he’s entitled to his bit, but I think he carries too much weight for someone who is essentially unserious. But this is what social media does—it promotes people doing characters, whether their character is an Instagram model who can “paint” or a ranting, raving old man who also makes crass jokes. The algorithm rewards both absurdity and commitment to said absurdity, and in turn, so do we.
We lap up the influencer artist’s aspirational lifestyle content and we like or share Jerry Saltz’s recycled memes. We wonder if we ourselves should adopt a bit of some sort. What would get us more attention on our page? Is it creating vibes or taking a really strong stance on a hot button issue? When we do this, we get further and further from the nuts-and-bolts of art and art history. It’s never how can I improve my art or get my writing published somewhere more prestigious. We know that doesn’t actually increase engagement. I say all this not so much to offer a solution but to put social media into perspective. It’s its own world with its own set of rules that have little to do with what we actually hold dear. Try to remember that as you navigate its shiny, engineered world.