Art At the End of the World
Like rabbits in the headlights curators, heads of art institutions and high earning artists find themselves under the wheels of cataclysm. In this they joined ranks with financial experts, journalists and politicians in being caught unaware of the approach of the inevitable. Sources of funding are drying up for large scale exhibitions and when the artist has the means to pay for 100kg of gold bricks, he may find the gold purchased frozen as part of an SEC investigation.
Art as a means of winning the artist favor by flattering the ruling class is nothing new, nor is "transgressive" art acting as a pressure release valve for disaffection, nor art as an accessory to power and glamorous lives. In the will to join that privileged table of the powerful, and the implied promise of that possibility for all being the central theme of popular culture and marketing, the treadmill driving all that grinds down the human spirit is kept moving by those who have least to gain from it. One may ask what we need the art that has dominated the international press and aspirations in the past 20-30 years when we have the fashion industry who have always and always do glamor and fuel aspiration better than art ever can.
The economies of western nations have been removed from their foundations stone by stone and thrown upon quicksand. The illusion of stability and growth wa achieved by adding to the pile at a reate greater than the pile was sinking into the ground. Now we've tossed in the last of the structure and are standing on the quickly dampening furniture and drapes.
The last depression ushered in a period of pure fantasy and grand spectacles, this one may bring an end to the international art equivalent or we may see a revival of the ghost of Busby Berkeley. It could be said that it's early days yet, but it's later than anyone is admitting. In the US, the apparent desparation of PBS, that mainstay for arts coverage has degenerated into repeated airings of Yanni, Celtic Woman, Il Divo and seminars with the Rich Dad guy. In Central Florida, these programs are repeated ad nauseum accompanied by fundraising breaks at least once a month, if not every other week. The viewers contributions pay for three hour long commercials for tours of the abovementioned soul-sucking anti-musicians. The avenues of cultural broadcasting and coverage can't afford to aim as high as middle-brow anymore. In going down that road, they are eliminating their reason for being and asking that the plug be pulled when the time comes. And last year the ICA replaced the finance director with an ex hedge fund manager. Talk about taking arsenic as an antidote for cyanide.
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