Where is the seat of sincerity in the human soul? Maybe it changes from from one epic to the next, but here we are commercial beings. We make decisions based on returns, dollars in and out -- where to live, what to study, what to drive. Might as well admit it. Discretionary expenditures reveal the person and it’s actual money out of the pocket that tests those theories we sometimes claim to live by. Any old-school door-to-door salesman could tell you that.
Art searches for ‘truth,’ that’s its job, and the question is where to look, what trail to follow. Much art is bought with other people’s money, and the paths begin to merge and cross when that happens. Many folks see their own career in art, from dealers to arts administrators, critics, academics and authorities, and that overlay of self-interest becomes a clouded lens. Art is in danger of going opaque, just an artifact connected to fame, or potential fame, or looks like fame for slightly less, and the expert’s sight is limited from the middle of the pack.
Meager as it sounds the only real test of what people really want is what they’re willing to pay for, themselves. Big-time sports sell expensive seats all the way to the top of gigantic stadiums, or they move away for ‘lack of interest.’ Art is an expensive item in most households and buying it requires a thoughtful decision, since some more momentary benefit will have to go. It requires a chauvinism so thick it verges on burlesque to think they won’t make the right choice, for themselves. The aesthetic awareness of the community at large will never rise to the level of the jurists and curators who choose our art for us, but with ownership as the model this region will eventually express itself authentically, producing art reflecting a common experience and range of interests, and artists will make a living.
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