Money vs. Meaning: Why We Make Art?

22 - CULTURE issue 176 What is art and why do we make it? Is art still capable of producing meaning or has revenue become its sole purpose? Art as a meaning-making tool By Luisa De la Concha Montes Why do We Make Art? MONEY vs. MEANING

Art As a commercial enterprise By Sahina Sherchan

Today, art is a fluid global concept which can’t be reduced to an obsolete definition. Art has increasingly become a means to an end, to money. We can’t be ignorant of the capitalist world in which we live. Art made for its innate personal value is drastically different from art made for commercial use.

Money values art that makes money. So, for example, galleries and museums seem to legitimise a capitalist hierarchy of art. This raises an issue as artists can no longer defy the dominant ideology of money, as doing so would make them irrelevant in the art sphere. With gallery auctions and status attached to an acquired artwork, the survival of art is heavily dependent on money. As a result, the creation of art made simply out of experience and emotions is slowly going out of fashion.

Who owns a painting is more important than the value of the painting itself. Fighting over the monetary value of an artwork is seen as crucial in any of the art auctions today. The most expensive artwork sold in 2017 was Salvator Mundi by Leonardo Da Vinci for $450 million. It is undoubtedly an amazing piece of art, but who decides its worth when art by definition is so subjective? Public opinion changes with the value tagged on an art piece. This goes to show the superior power of money and status within the contemporary art sphere. Large galleries and museums driven by the art’s commercial significance have distorted the way artists create and work, enforcing the idea that the only way to “make it” in the industry is through its high price.

Furthermore, commercialisation of art is also seen in the appropriation of acclaimed artworks in the fashion industry solely for financial gain. The release of Louis Vuitton’s Masters LV X KOONS series advertises handbags, backpacks and scarfs, imprinted with revolutionary artworks from Leonardo da Vinci and Vincent Van Gogh. The high ranging prices of these products show how art is used for profit and elite consumptions.

Where is the beauty of creating art for art’s sake? This delusional significance of commercial enterprise has changed the way artists make art and the way in which the world views art. Historically, creative endeavours have provided humanity with a space for contemplation and communication which is getting lost in our hunger for more.

Audience test notes for David Cronenberg’s 1983 Videodrome reveal that the initial reaction to the movie was not positive at all. “SUCKED!”, says one of the notes in all caps, “What sort of person could enjoy it?”, a second one asks. Fast forward to 2020, and the film has rated an 80% on Rotten Tomatoes, 7.3 on IMDB, and it was named the 89th most essential film in history by the Toronto International Film Festival. So, what does this tell us about creative ventures?

In the creative industries, there has always been an awkward (yet, inevitable) relationship between audience reception and creative expression. Success is often measured in terms of quantity: readership, sales, views, clicks, etc. This often leads artists to assume that art should only be created if it manages to please audiences. However, if artists only created in order to go viral, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy masterpieces like Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings (he only sold one during his lifetime), and Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin (at the time of its release, it was deemed the worst song of all time).

But, why should the motive behind art matter? Does it make a difference if art was made as a result of true passion, or just as a commercial endeavour? It should. Art is ultimately an emotional activity – its real value lies in the time, dedication, and moral conviction that the artists themselves have invested in it. Audiences treasure art when it speaks true to their feelings, and when it opens their eyes to different perspectives. This does not mean, however, that art should be beautiful: Tarantino’s Kill Bill is very gory, and yet no one denies that it’s a true cinematic masterpiece. What this does mean is that the ultimate purpose of art should be its commitment to the creation of meaning, a purpose that often becomes overlooked when commercial gains become too intertwined with creative purposes. In order to avoid this, artists need to be able to differentiate between their financial interests and their creative purposes. A great example of how this can be done is Jordan Peele, who admitted that for his film Us he deliberately decided not to have too much money invested into it, since it would constrain his creative freedom.

The obsessive focus that media conglomerates have on audience reception has led to an endless production of formulaic cultural products, which often makes us feel as if artistic creation has entirely lost its meaning, and that originality is dead. However, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Artists themselves have started having conversations about their experience behind the scenes of art production: Look at Jena Malone’s Instagrampoems, Joseph Gordon Levitt’s podcast Creative Processing, or Variety’s series Actors on Actors. This trend demonstrates that through the artist’s openness and self-criticism, the organic meaning of art can be restored, and its value as a weapon of expression and change can be re-established.