The Brooklyn Rail

Recently I have been thinking about the opening line of the 1971 film The Go-Between in which the narrator states, “The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” As I get older, it often seems the opposite is true, that the present is the foreign country where I often struggle to comprehend a new regime of unfamiliar rules, rituals, and procedures. In a few days I will be traveling to Clemson University in South Carolina to impart some wisdom to students as part of a Career Fair program. I have been trying to think what I have to offer in the way of advice to young artists and writers embarking on their careers. As someone who began my writing career forty years ago, I’m not sure my own trajectory offers much of a model, simply because the world today is so different. On the other hand, maybe there are some general principles that will be helpful.

When I entered the art world in the early eighties, the market juggernaut was just beginning. In the days before art fairs, art investment strategies, and multimillion dollar art prices, criticism still played an important role in determining an art work’s cultural (if not economic) value. And criticism itself was different. Though this was soon to change, there was still a sense that critics and artists were working off a fairly common set of theoretical ideas. You might agree or disagree, but you still had to take the deconstructive, post-structuralist arguments into account. To get your ideas before the art public, you needed to get them into one of a relatively small number of gatekeeper publications. Articles published there were widely read and widely discussed, helping to create a community of ideas. Not that this was utopia. Even then the idea of criticism as a career was somewhat laughable, and we complained bitterly about the low fees for writing, never foreseeing that these would seem princely in a world where so much writing is now done for free. Still, between writing, teaching, lecturing and curating, it was possible to cobble together a living while retaining a sense of the importance of one’s mission.

Today, developments like the globalized art market, the rise of the mega-gallery, the all- powerful reach of the internet and social media, the decline of print journalism, and a general dismissal of the value of the liberal arts have completely changed the game. The explosion of outlets for writing has been accompanied by a deep drop in writing fees. It has also diluted the art readership, as the audience for any piece of writing is splintered among the seemingly endless array of online and print publications, blogs, vlogs, and podcasts. Where publications once brought readers to writers, now writers are expected to bring readers to publications.

In the midst of all this plenty, it often seems that more is less. Art stars rise and fall without any reference to critical judgment, and the most lucrative writing is paid for by interested parties. Meanwhile the monumental growth of art markets, art scenes, and artists throughout the world makes it impossible to discover a common narrative. And then there is the arrival of AI, whose effects seem likely to even further mute the voice of the individual critic. And yet, and yet… I believe that it remains important to promote the idea that art is more than a luxury good or an entertainment option. I still find deep satisfaction in thinking about art as a discourse on culture and a way to explore ideas about politics, spirituality, gender, and history. I value its ability to help us glimpse new worlds and new ways of thinking about the existing world. Finding ways to explore ideas about these aspects of art is a challenge, but there are still places (the Rail being one) where ideas are welcome. I continue to fear that something vital will be lost if we succumb to the privileging of money over all other values.

So what will I tell the students at Clemson? I have no map to offer them. They must find their way in a rapidly shifting landscape. In this brave new world, flexibility is all-important. But so is a firm sense of larger purpose. Here, then, are a few bits of advice gleaned from four decades in the art world: create and nurture a community that shares your interests and ambitions. Don’t feel limited to the options that are presented to you. If you don’t see a door, make one. And remember that things are always changing, and that you can be part of the change.