Art for Money's Sake

Labor economist David Galenson wonders why "the nexus between money and art remains perhaps the last taboo subject for many in the art world".

Perhaps he read this July editorial by art dealer Richard Feigen. Here's an excerpt from Feigen on soaring prices:

The works which have soared in price are not necessarily the most important historically, while those which have stagnated or declined in price are sometimes of great artistic and aesthetic merit.

And this on Andy Warhol, who's been credited for bringing an entrepreneurial spirit to the art world:

The question is: just because something is called "art", is it really art? Does hype and brilliant marketing create any genuine art-historical significance, any permanent value? Are these new mega-buyers using their eyes or their ears? Not long ago, one of the major contemporary collectors intimated to me, in all seriousness, that Andy Warhol was a greater artist than Leonardo da Vinci. I knew Andy Warhol, and liked him, but a genius he was not.

And how about this on Damien Hirst:

To even postulate that a diamond-encrusted Damien Hirst skull, For the Love of God, at $100m can be even remotely compared to Lord Halifax's Titian portrait, one of the great pictures remaining in English private hands, still on the market at a comparable price, is patently absurd.

(Interestingly, this acclaimed book on the character of artists concludes this about Titian: "Titian looked after his financial interests with skill, patience and tenacity... The image of the 'typical' artist unconcerned with the value of money most certainly did not fit him.")

But what views like Feigen's don't take into account, Galenson argues, (I'm liberally paraphrasing here, but I think Galenson would agree) is that it's not universal truths that money and art don't mix and that artists serve some "higher" purpose, but rather conventions developed by mere mortals. It's perfectly reasonable for artists to pursue financial gain:

The Italian Renaissance transformed artists from manual workers into intellectuals. Painters would no longer be paid as craftsmen, at fixed daily rates, but would instead themselves set prices that took into account their often exceptional skills. This transformation made it possible for artists to charge "star fees" for their paintings, and to accumulate wealth that might sometimes equal that of their patrons.
Yet this increase in status imposed new responsibilities. If artists were to be as affluent as aristocrats, they should also behave like them. One element of this was that they should appear to be unconcerned with such crass matters as their own incomes. A legacy of the Renaissance therefore came to be the convention that although artists might greedily pursue financial gain in private, they should never publicly appear to be interested in monetary rewards, but should be perceived to work for the glory of art.

Galenson quotes Warhol, Hirst, and Jeff Koons extensively to make his point.

Koons:

The market is the greatest critic.

Hirst:

I think in England especially, people are anti any kind of success really. You're struggling and you cut your ear off; they like that kind of artist. Whereas if you're making money... They'd rather you were working on a building site and painting in a garret somewhere. I'd say that's a problem...I have proved it to myself that art is about life and the art world's about money. And I'm the only one who... knows that. Everyone lies to themselves to make it seem like it's the other way. But it isn't...I find the money aspect of the work part of its life... [P]eople buy it and pay money for it and it becomes a commodity and still manages to stay art, I find that really exciting.

Warhol:

Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. During the hippie era people put down the idea of business - they'd say 'Money is bad,' and 'Working is bad,' but making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art.

Warhol was the first to break from the Renaissance tradition, argues Galenson, and created a new model of artistic behavior, "the artist as materialist."

It took some 30 years for Warhol's model to widely manifest itself in popular culture. In fact, the "grunge"-scene of the early 1990's was in many ways the antithesis of Warhol's ethos.

These days, no group of artists have found a closer soulmate in Warhol than hip hoppers. Rappers like Jay Z and 50 Cent run multi-million dollar businesses...and you won't find too many of their fans complaining if they allow a song to end up on a commercial.

Related:

The Warhol Economy

Hirst's Spectacular Skull

The Reputation of Damien Hirst

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