Shop Art!

“Part of the difficulty in being both an artist and a businessperson is this: You make a picture because you have seen something beyond price; then you are to turn and assign to your record of it a cash value. If the selling is not necessarily a contradiction of the truth of the picture, it is so close to being a contradiction that you are worn down by the threat.” ~ Robert Adams

I approach this topic with a degree of trepidation. I have two rules when it comes to writing. First, I try not to be too negative (notice I didn't say I try to be positive, a not-so-subtle distinction). Second, I never wish to imply that there is a right way and a wrong way when it comes to photography. Far be it from me to tell people how to lead their creative lives. Still, I have biases like anyone else, and the subject of this blog is one of them.

I recently watched a YouTube video by a photographer with whom I was unfamiliar. In the video, he extolled the virtues of several creative principles, such as being true to one's authentic self, avoiding trends, embracing imperfection, and focusing on practice rather than results. All of this was framed through various Japanese philosophical concepts, e.g., wabi-sabi.—all good, sound advice. I liked his message and what I saw of his photography, and decided to visit his website. I clicked on the Galleries tab and was confronted with a page with the header, “Shop Art.” I immediately got a bad taste in my mouth. Clicking through a few of the galleries, I saw that every image had a price listed with it. (The first gallery was named Best Sellers, as if I care what other people liked. I can only assume it’s for those consumers who don't trust their instincts and fall in line with the herd.) The entire website resembled a storefront more than an artist’s portfolio. It felt like a complete contradiction to the creative principles he discussed and employed in his photography, which was actually very lovely. Within minutes, I dismissed the photographer and his work. I found the entire experience to be off-putting; the joy of looking at his photography marred by heavy-handed marketing. A few days later, I came across another photographer with thoughtful, intelligent videos and again a website that resembled J. Crew.

Art and commerce have always had an antithetical relationship, as Adams acknowledges above. As a professional who relies on photography for income, I, like anyone, understand and empathize with the need to earn a living. The question is, to what lengths are you willing to go? A website that shouts, “Buy, buy, buy!” cheapens the artwork, reducing its purpose to little more than decor, as if this is its sole reason for existence. The qualities inherent in the artwork and the photographer's identity and beliefs are overshadowed by commercialism. To quote Picasso, "The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls," not to have something to hang on our walls.

Very few artists pursue their passion primarily for financial gain. For most of us, photography is a calling, something we feel we must do. However, there are practical matters to be addressed, chief among them the need or desire to generate income. I don't begrudge a photographer for trying to make money; it’s the tactless approach I find unsavory. I believe it is possible for a photographer to offer their work for sale while not making it the end-all be-all. Then again, I can count on one hand the number of prints I sell in a year, so maybe I’m the fool. But would a website designed for sales be the solution? Maybe, though I tend to doubt it. Even if it was, I couldn't stomach the contradiction. My work is available for sale, my soul is not.

Thank you for subscribing to my blog. If you know of others who may enjoy it, please consider sharing it with them.