You say Picasso, I say Picahsso

The cult of the artist has gone too far

​​Art appreciation has been diminished. It has become a perpetual lauding of predetermined ‘great’ names; a sort of box-ticking exercise in which the goal is rarely to enjoy the work. Though it has the power to foster community and promote shared values, art should also engage, inspire and enliven the hearts and minds of individual people on a personal level. True appreciation stems from our own perceptions and experiences of the world in relation to the work — not merely whether it was made by a famous name. Let us not forget, moreover, that these ‘masters’ are invariably male and European.

This is by no means a new phenomenon. Since the age of Giorgio Vasari’s artist biographies in The Lives (published in 1550), the desire to crown specific creatives as divinely inspired geniuses has been popular. However, our contemporary mentality of ‘if you didn’t take a picture, you didn’t see it’ has intensified the phenomenon. Viewers look at a work for an average of 27 seconds (the statistics vary on this), take a photo, and quickly move on. What, if anything, are they gaining from this experience?

There is an immense irony when artists such as Banksy have, through anonymity, tried to withdraw themselves from the cult of the artist but have only excited it further. Contemporary artists who have made it to the Hall of Fame can use it to their advantage. The art world bows down at their feet. David Hockney’s (very uninteresting) The Arrival of Spring series of digitally-made landscapes, is a case in point. Displayed in a 2021 exhibition of the same name at the Royal Academy (RA), these boring works wouldn’t have received such crowds (or have even been at the RA) if the exhibition didn’t have HOCKNEY written all over it.

Museums and galleries contribute to these narratives in other ways too. They provide ‘must sees’ on their maps and guides; something understandable considering their often huge collections, but ultimately reductive. The Louvre has around 35,000 works of art on display, yet it is thought that 80 per cent of its visitors are there just to see Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. They are missing out on thousands of worthy paintings (which they may have a more meaningful response to) all for a fleeting glimpse of a disappointingly small, crowded (and now soup-covered) painting.

Unfortunately, art often equals money. This valuation is determined by a number of factors, one of the most heavily weighted being the name and reputation of the artist. The latter is something that can go in and out of fashion: Vincent van Gogh managed to sell only one painting in his lifetime and now we’re all obsessed with him. Recently, a Gustav Klimt painting was rediscovered and is now predicted to sell at auction for €30 million – €50 million. Despite its aesthetic qualities, it certainly wouldn’t be selling for so much if it wasn’t labelled with this name.

The art world has always been, and continues to be, very exclusive (I hope that isn’t news to you). Those who consider themselves culturally ‘uneducated’ may, understandably, presume that the only artworks worth seeing are those which are loudly applauded by others, without realising that there is much more to inspire them.

I am not denying the creative abilities of these celebrated artists; nor am I claiming that they shouldn’t be viewed and admired by many. There is, much of the time, good reason for them to be highly considered. Everyone should have the chance to gaze in wonder at Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling, Picasso’s Guernica, and Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring — but not to the detrimental oversight of other pieces, and not just for the sake of it.

From these experiences, visitors seem to gain only social kudos and a set of Van Gogh mugs from the gift shop. There is no consideration of what they’ve learnt or how much they’ve missed out on. Wonderful though unknown works are undervalued and famous works are aimlessly ticked off travel to-do lists. Been there, done that, and probably got a t-shirt with the Mona Lisa on it.

Illustration by: Isabelle Holloway