Lateral Action - Does Commercial Success = Creative Sell-Out?

Does Commercial Success = Creative Sell-Out? 2009-05-25 04:33:18-04 One of the most eye-opening experiences of my life took place one afternoon in Amsterdam, in the summer of 1990. A hundred years after the death of Vincent van Gogh, his paintings had been gathered from collections across the globe, for a specacular Centenary Exhibition in the Van Gogh Museum. Such was the demand for tickets that I had to buy mine two days in advance. When I finally got inside, I wondered from room to room in a kind of trance, bowled over by masterpiece after vibrant masterpiece, each one familiar but bigger, brighter and richer than any prints I've seen before or since. I knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and stayed for hours until we were shepherded out by security. That building held staggering artistic riches - but the financial scale of the exhibition was no less mind-boggling. When you consider the auction value of a single van Gogh painting, the cost of borrowing, transporting, ensuring and protecting virtually the artist's entire oeuvre must have been astronomical. Factor in the money spent on marketing the exhibition and generated from the sale of tickets, catalogues, prints, and endless other items of merchandise, and the amount of cash involved starts to look obscene. The irony, of course, was that all of this wheeling and dealing was in the name of an artist who famously died penniless, disillusioned and despairing. Van Gogh was the ultimate artistic martyr, ignored by a cruel world and an art market that failed to reward his talent. The irony gets deeper and crueller when you consider that the legend of van Gogh the tortured artist has contributed to the rise of his posthumous fame - and the price of his paintings. His tragic tale has been immortalised in novels, poems, films and songs. His name is now a byword for misunderstood genius. Would we accord van Gogh's paintings the same reverence if he had lived to be old, fat, rich and conservative? Hardly. His paintings are undisputed masterpieces, but like the Mona Lisa, the mythology has helped the marketing. It's almost as if poverty and suffering made him a better artist. Let's face it, we find it easier to love our artists when they are young, poor and idealistic. There's apparently something infinitely nobler about starving in a garrett and making sacrifices for your art than dictating your latest screenplay to one of your minions as you sip cocktails on the edge of your swimming pool. One of the most damning criticisms that can be levelled at an artist is that he or she has 'sold out', forsaking artistic integrity for filthy lucre. The consensus seems to be that creativity and commerce are worlds apart, and that money necessarily corrupts artistic talent. But does this popular view represent the truth of the matter? Not according to Tyler Cowen it doesn't. Does Capitalism Support Creativity? In a book provocatively titled In Praise of Commercial Culture, Cowen argues that, far from corrupting the arts, capitalism actually fosters creativity: The capitalist market economy is a vital but underappreciated institutional framework for supporting a plurality of coexisting artistic visions, providing a steady stream of new and satisfying creations, helping consumers and artists refine their tastes, and paying homage to the eclipsed past by capturing, reproducing, and disseminating it. (Tyler Cowen, In Praise of Commercial Culture) One of the ways he supports this claim is to present numerous examples of acknowledged artistic geniuses who pursued wealth with enthusiasm and success. Many artists reject the bohemian lifestyle and pursue profits. The artists of the Italian Renaissance were businessmen first and foremost. They produced for profit, wrote commercial contracts, and did not hesitate to walk away from a job if the remuneration is not sufficient. Renaissance sculptor Benvenuto Cellini, in his autobiography, remarked, "You poor idiots, I'm a poor goldsmith, and I work for anyone who pays me." Bach, Mozart, Hayden, and Beethoven were all obsessed with earning money through their art, as a reading of their letters reveals. Mozart even wrote: "Believe me, my sole purpose is to make as much money as possible; after good health it is the best thing to have". When accepting an Academy award in 1972, Charlie Chaplin remarked: "I went into the business for money and the art grew out of it. If people are disillusioned by that remark, I can't help it. It's the truth." (Tyler Cowen, In Praise of Commercial Culture) Another of Cowen's arguments is that a healthy market economy and popular commercial entertainment help to sustain avant-garde and minority artists. In the Middle Ages and Renaissance, art materials were too expensive and artists too dependent on conservative minded patrons and customers to be able to outrage public taste with their work. But by the 19th century the cost of art materials had fallen, so that artists were under less pressure to recoup the costs by selling the work - and were therefore free to indulge their own tastes. At the same time, the art market had grown so much that artists could earn a living by appealing to minority tastes. Similarly, many publishers have made most of their money from popular bestsellers, allowing them to publish more literary works at a reduced profit or even a loss. In cases like this, popular culture is essentially subsidising more refined tastes. So bohemian outsiders like Baudelaire and Bukowski may rail against the bourgeois tastes and morality of mainstream culture, but according to Cowen their niche art is actually supported by the market forces they despise. Even poor old van Gogh benefited from the market economy - and not just after his death: Falling prices for materials have made the arts affordable to millions of enthusiasts and would-be professionals. In previous eras, even paper was costly, limiting the development of both writing and drawing skills to relatively well-off families. Vincent van Gogh, an ascetic loner who ignored public taste, could not have managed his very poor lifestyle at an earlier time in history. His nonconformism was possible because technological progress had lowered the costs of paint and canvas and enabled him to persist as an artist. (Tyler Cowen, In Praise of Commercial Culture) What Do You Think? Does an artist go down in your estimation if you discover he or she was ambitious for money? Does capitalism corrupt creativity or support it? How do you manage the tension between creativity and commerce in your own career? About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet, creative coach and co-founder of Lateral Action. Subscribe today to get free updates by email or RSS. Read more...

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