A Tribute to Gallerists (and a Concern about Utilitarian Art Culture)
About five years ago a gallery opened in our tiny town of Silverhill, Alabama. Marine photographer Lynn Jordan opened a beautiful gallery about a quarter of a mile from our home. One day I stopped by to introduce myself, and by the end of that conversation Lynn had welcomed me to show work in her gallery. The Farmhouse Gallery was my first time "officially" showing work somewhere, and I was so honored and thankful to get to be a part of that gallery while it was open. It felt like the roots of my soul went miles down into the earth and community of which I was now a part.
Today I picked up my artwork from a gallerist's home. My work, and that of many other artists, had been part of an endeavor that did not work out for a hundred reasons beyond the gallerist's control. She had invested so much time and money, only to have it not come to fruition. It was a sad conversation, though not without hope.
As an artist, of course I have a deep appreciation for the arts, for artists, and for artisans. But today I have a much deeper appreciation for those who venture to open galleries. There are those who sink thousands upon thousands of dollars to create delightful spaces to show unforeseen beauty to the world. They invest countless hours thinking, creating, collaborating, moving backbreaking furniture, bringing old buildings up to code... and for what? To give space to fill the world with more beauty.
We talked briefly about what a difficult few years it has been for artists. For example, AI remains a threat for working artists. But on top of that, people are holding their money from purchasing a seeming "luxury" like a painting. However, art is not a luxury; but it is not exactly a "necessity" in the way that food, water, and shelter are. It's an "essential" in the way that friendship is. Physically, can you survive with only food, water, and shelter, with no companions? Yes. But does anyone really see that as an ideal way to live? It's same with art.
Art exists, not as superfluous to our existence, but as evidence that something about our existence is worth celebrating.
The kind of gallerists that I'm talking about here are those that understand the essentiality of art, and they sacrifice so much for it. Pause with me for a moment and give thanks for such people....
Now, one brief thought. Artists are struggling now, not because there's no money to pay for their work or services. Universities pay an obscene amount of money for coaches and, now, players. People spend loads of money on sports or hobbies (myself included, having a family of four athletes). All around me I see people spending money. Money isn't the issue. Most local cultures are utilitarian about art. College football is a great example.
So much artful creativity goes into a single football game. The announcers say the same empty nonsense again and again. They repeat empty rhetoric and hip-shot opinions in hopes that no one is even listening, so that no one has to take the time to point how often they contradict themselves and say ridiculous things. Still, an artist advised on their clothing (as silly as some of them seem to dress). Every promo involves digital creativity, music, design, etc. People spend millions on this, and for what? So that we'll watch football and continue idolizing 19-and-20-year-old young men.
I have complained about living in a culture that fails to appreciate art. But it's deeper than that. Most of us live in a culture that appreciates only utilitarian art. Art is good only insofar as it's useful for facilitating interest in something that makes money. Billboards. Commercials. Logos. Brands. Sporting events. Utilitarian art does not magnify the beauty of God's creation. Rather, it exalts man's achievement and exploits man's vulnerabilities for profit.
Art--true art--sends beauty into the world for the purpose of promoting human flourishing and reflecting the glory of our Creator. Some artists do this, despite not even believing in God's existence.
I hope and I pray for cultural change. Yes, artists need to sell artwork. But, as Jeff Goins says, "We don't make art to make money; we need to make money so we can make more art." But what really has to happen is that a person needs a glimpse of heavenly glory. A good painting does this. A national championship for your team, amazing as that is, only reflects a man-centered glory that lives and dies with us here on earth. Good art, the art of Rembrandt, for example, points us toward a glory that will fill all of eternity, awakens that heavenly longing in our hearts, and prepares us to enjoy it forever. A lasting glory, not the fading glory of man's earthly achievement.
I'll say it once more: Art exists, not as superfluous to our existence, but as evidence that something about our existence is worth celebrating.
