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| My people. Christian Butler measuring our gallery at Left and Danette Montoya working some audio at Right. We do it because we love the artists and their work. |
I may be small potatoes in the art world, but I've been thinking about the problem of the art-market often, I talk about it with people as soon as it seems they're listening, and I don't want to shut up about it. It is a relief to read this message from art dealer, Steven Zevitas. I love art. I love making art, talking about art, looking at art, thinking about art... I want art to be the hallowed cultural definer that it can be - and I want it to be healthy and strong. Below, the whole message as it was sent to me. If anything, skim through to the last third and read the messages to Artists, Art Critics, Museums, Art Magazines, Dealers, etc.
THE THINGS WE THINK AND DO NOT SAY,
OR WHY THE ART WORLD IS IN TROUBLE
Steven Zevitas
02/28/2014
I had a Jerry Maguire moment last night. I couldn't sleep, so I decided
to write. The following thoughts are a bit of a ramble - a sketch really
- and I leave it to others to expand on the dialogue. If I had a
business manager, I'd probably be told that for someone who makes part
of their living as an art dealer, putting these words "out there" is not
a particularly bright move. If I had a boss, he might fire me.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I don't have either.
If you were to walk through the aisles of any one of the dozens of art
fairs that now take place globally on an almost weekly basis, you would
get the sense that the art world is a happier place than Disney World.
Big art, big artists, big dealers and big money play their roles in a
hypnotic and well-rehearsed production, and toothy smiles abound. Yet
this intoxicating spectacle is just the most public manifestation of a
problem in the art world that has become increasingly obvious over the
past decade: more and more, the cart is pulling the horse.
The horse in question is, of course, aesthetic production and the
individuals and institutions that assiduously guard its sanctity. The
cart is, at least on the surface, money - and lots of it. Or is it?
After all, money does not have motivation or intent, people do. I would
argue that the cart is actually the insidious forces that have, over
several decades, narrowed the gap between art and financial instruments,
and in doing so have forced art to submit to criteria once reserved for
commodities. Money is simply the scapegoat for a problem that is
pervasive and systemic.
There was a time when art critics, art historians and curators held
substantial sway as to what constituted significant contemporary art.
They rode the horse, and collectors and art dealers happily went along
for the ride. These days, curators are too often hamstrung by the
demands of museum directors who are focused on attendance figures, and
board members, who can have very real (non-aesthetic) interests in
seeing that certain exhibitions take place. Critics have suffered an
even worse fate. Those that are left have been neutered, and can seem
more like public relations specialists than critical thinkers. Even the
most influential, such as Roberta Smith and Jerry Saltz - both
tremendous art critics - can barely move the consensus needle these
days. The last time I saw that magic Greenbergian trick successfully
performed is when Saltz's 2002 review of a show by Dana Schutz, it can
be said, genuinely influenced an artist's rapid ascendency. That was
twelve years ago.
"Consensus" may be the most important word in the art world today.
Because of the patent impossibility of objectivity in the judgment of
art, the notion of consensus has slipped into the vacuum. Nature may
abhor a vacuum, but apparently the art world does even more. So much so,
in fact, that the word "consensus" has come to be all but synonymous
with another art-world favorite, "quality." Their combined weight, piled
on layers of subjectivity, has, over time, exerted enough pressure to
create a very strange substance: virtual objectivity. You can't see the
stuff, but like theoretical dark matter, all evidence suggests that it
is there, and that it accounts for a lot of the contemporary art world's
mass. It is the substance that turns young artists into overnight
superstars, dealers into mega-dealers, and collectors into tastemakers.
It keeps the cart in front of the horse and it drives the art market.
Unfortunately, it is highly unstable.
The art world and the art market are not the same thing, even though the
general-interest press now, tellingly, uses the terms interchangeably.
The latter should be subject to the former, but somewhere along the way
there was a coup. When the public now thinks about the art world - if
they think about the art world at all - the first thing that will likely
come to mind is the unfathomable sums of money spent for a painting at
the latest auction. I don't think there is any way to overstate the
exclusion that this narrative creates. It moves art closer to commodity
status in the collective consciousness, and in doing so, effectively
tells the 99% that there is no point in thinking about the art world, or
art itself for that matter. The message is clear: If art equals money,
and you are not wealthy, then art is not for you.
None of this is to say that the art market is a bad thing. The dealers,
collectors, auction houses and other players in the market all perform
functions that are necessary if artists are to have a fair shot at
making a living from their work. But the way the market is now
structured is problematic. The top end is not the problem. The fact that
the super-wealthy spend fortunes on works by artists such as Gerhard
Richter and Andy Warhol is not particularly disturbing, as those artists
are firmly ensconced in the art-historical canon. When it comes to
artists like Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst, well, all I can say is, Good
luck with that. The trouble really starts with the prices being paid for
works by mid-career artists such as Christopher Wool and Richard
Prince, and, of greater concern and with more frequency, for the work of
emerging artists.
I am all about artists making money, but when a small group of mostly
young white male artists such as Joe Bradley, Jacob Kassay, Lucien Smith
and Oscar Murillo start to sell work for six-digit amounts, it should
raise a lot of red flags. (And I am in no way making critical judgments
about these artists and their work - Joe Bradley, for one, may very well
turn out to be a generational talent.) The age of the "ism" is over and
in its place we have the age of instant "consensus" and the other big
art world C word, "context." Right now the "consensus" is that serious
art involves raw canvas, a smattering of paint, possibly an exposed
stretcher bar, and a "who the fuck cares if it looks done" attitude -
some of this work is quite good, by the way. The "context" that this
work is presented in is the hippest galleries and art fairs in the
world. And collectors who do more listening than looking are lapping it
up in large amounts and at absurd prices.
Expressed in the parlance of finance, all of these artists are trading
at multiples that, if applied to a publicly traded company such as
Google, would make the price of that stock more than $10,000 a share.
When someone purchases a Lucien Smith painting for $150,000, they are
effectively saying that they feel this asset has such potential for
future growth that it warrants such a present price. (For finance geeks,
it is a bet that this asset will generate enough future cash flows at a
given discount rate to make the asset's net present value a positive
number.) All of this sounds very sophisticated, but at the end of the
day, and in common English, the only justification for paying such money
for emerging artists is speculative. And we all know what happens to a
market when too many speculators get involved.
Careless dealers are partly to blame. Auction houses, which can quickly
establish a secondary market for an emerging artist, are more to blame.
If there is one certainty demonstrated by modern economic history, it is
that all things are cyclical. In the end, the music will stop, and when
it does, chairs will be scarce. The results will be a decrease in art
fairs, gallery closings, and, unfortunately, a lot of artists with
ruined careers and no place to exhibit their work. Some, like that wise
sage Paul Clemenza, would say:
"These things gotta happen every five years or so, ten years.
Helps to get rid of the bad blood. Been ten years since the last one.
You know, you gotta stop them at the beginning. Like they should have
stopped Hitler at Munich, they should never let him get away with that,
they was just asking for trouble.
Maybe they do. But certainly the severity of such a crisis could be
reduced if the art world's internal structure were in better shape.
I think that art constitutes the single most important output of a given
culture at any point in time and, therefore, that collecting art is a
deadly serious enterprise. These days, collecting has become a form of
entertainment and a competitive blood sport, where the quest for access
has replaced the desire for aesthetic, intellectual, emotional, and
spiritual nourishment. And so, naturally, the things that are the
hardest to access have become the most valued (there is the old horse
being pulled along again). In my life as a dealer, I am lucky to have
worked with a number of collectors who are passionate about art and who
dedicate a large quotient of their typically busy lives to it. Then,
there is the new breed that all dealers are now more than familiar with.
If you are at an art fair, they are easy to identify, because they
spend more time examining resumes than looking at art. They also tend to
herd together and gravitate toward the same things, which has resulted
in a shocking number of private collections that are virtually
interchangeable. Let me put it simply: Going to an art fair or gallery
and spending a lot of money on the latest "hot" artist is not
collecting, it is trophy hunting. When the art world slows down, these
individuals will be the first to jump ship, as their motivations for
interacting with art in the first place will have evaporated with the
value of their art portfolios.
So, how do we fix the mess? Needless to say, this is a complex question.
The best I can do is offer counsel directed to some of the art world's
key stakeholders:
To artists I say: Keep making art and make it because you have a deep
NEED to, not because you WANT to. Follow your own unique visions and not
current consensus. You are the bedrock.
To auction houses I say: Cut the bullshit. You are not art dealers, and
all the glossy sale catalogues and preview exhibitions in the world will
never change that. Refuse to auction works by artists who have emerged
from the studio less than three years ago. The few shekels that this
reckless practice puts toward your bottom line are far outweighed by the
instability you create in the art market.
To art magazines I say: No one cares about another analysis of Jeff
Koons or Damien Hirst, except for the two dozen people on the planet who
actively trade in their work. Expand your editorial coverage beyond the
same forty-or-so preapproved "art stars." Allow exhibition reviewers to
take stances that might be in conflict with the interests of your
advertising department. And editors, encourage your writers to
communicate in a language that can be understood by more than the few
who are fluent in artspeak. My favorite section of Artforum has always
been the ads, and my guess is that I am not alone.
To museums I say: Expand your boards to include a wider demographic.
Wealth and the ability to fundraise should not be the primary
determinant of board eligibility. I understand that a stable financial
house is essential to museums, but when stability necessitates an
oligarchy you have a big problem, and should begin to question the
viability of the institution.
To art collectors I say: Think for yourselves. Art collecting is a
personal journey, not a social exercise. There is no such thing as a bad
acquisition, if the motives and desires that lead to it are genuine.
Support your local art communities, as there is likely a lot going on
that is worthy of your support.
To art dealers - including myself - I say: Work with artists you believe
in, and do the shows you want to do. Refuse to do business with anyone
whose motives are even remotely speculative. Spend as much time
educating as you do trying to sell. Always remember that it is artists
first, everyone else second. Because the silver paintings are selling
well, don't ask your artist to make more.
And to the art world I say. . . . You had me at hello.
New American Paintings magazine is a juried exhibition-in-print, and the
largest series of artist competitions in the United States. Working
with experienced curators, New American Paintings reviews the work of
thousands of emerging artists each year. Forty artists are selected to
appear in each bi-monthly edition, many of whom go on to receive
substantial critical and commercial success. Additional content focuses
on the medium of painting, those who influence its direction, and the
role contemporary painting plays within the art world. Visit New
American Paintings for more information. Steven Zevitas Publisher, New
American Paintings
Update number 5: I started making bread all the time... There is hope for high altitude amateur bakers like myself because of "Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day." 
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