Why Are Artists Poor? Part 1

Why Are Artists Poor?

The Exceptional Economy of the Arts.

by Hans Abbing.

Preface

Why is the average income of artists low? Why do so many people still become artists despite the prospects of a low income? And why is it that the arts rely so heavily on gifts like subsidies and donations? Are these three phenomena related? Is it because most artists earn so little that the arts receive so many subsidies and donations? Or is the abundance of artists and their low incomes due to the fact that the arts receive dona-tions and subsidies? Do artists who earn low incomes sacri.ce them-selves for their art, or are they being sacri.ced by a system that pretends to support them?

In this book I will study the causes and consequences of the pervasive gift sphere in the arts, as well as low incomes and a large quant.i.ty of artists. I reject the argument that people do not care enough about art and that, consequently, an artist's income remains low and thus donors eventually get involved. (Regardless of one's de.nition of art, the expen-diture on art products has never been large. Nevertheless, during the last decades, western nations expenditures on art have risen more than incomes. Thus, the notion of under-consumption is hard to maintain.) In order to explain the pervasive gift sphere, I examine the artists' motiva-tions, att.i.tudes in the art world, and the myths surrounding art. The argument I advance in this book is that the economy of the arts is excep-tional. The impact of the mystique of the arts calls for a multidisciplinary approach. Therefore, I will employ insights taken from sociology and psychology. Nevertheless, my neocla.s.sical background in economics will s.h.i.+ne through throughout the course of the book.

As an artist I am immersed in the art world. When I look around me there is much that puzzles me. I know of artists who earn a lot of money and I have one or two colleagues who do relatively well. Other colleagues manage to survive, like I do, because they sell their work regularly, receive grants and subsidies, or they have interesting second jobs. Most of my colleagues, however, are poor. They hardly sell, have lousy second jobs, and yet they carry on. I don't understand why they just don't quit the profession.

As an economist and social scientist I cannot ignore this confused state of affairs. Using a phrase of Deirdre McCloskey, I climb up to the tenth .oor and gaze down at the art world. I notice that the economy of the arts, in its basic structure, resembles that of, say, food-production. Both economic sectors are involved in buying and selling, while prices govern supply and demand. Nevertheless, I remain puzzled by what I see. For instance, I can't comprehend the numerous donations and subsidies nor the abundance of artists willing to work for low pay. Even from this perspective on the tenth .oor I .nd it dif.cult to see patterns in the ongo-ing process.

The contrasts and Ja.n.u.s-like quality of the arts are puzzling for artist and economist alike. Therefore, this book proposes that the artist and economist join forces. They will look down from the tenth .oor together. Because their knowledge and perspective can reinforce each other, they start to discern patterns in the arts economy. This book tries to explain these patterns.

The most striking aspect in these patterns is the two-faced character of the economy of the arts. The contrast is visible from outward signs. On the one hand there is a world of splendor, of magni.cent opera houses, chic openings, of artists earning very high incomes and of rich donors whose status is enhanced by their a.s.sociation with the arts. On the other hand there is the large majority of artists earning little or noth-ing; often they lose money by working in the arts and make up for the losses by working in second jobs or accepting support from their part-ners. Moreover large sums of social security and other allowances not intended for the arts .ow into it.

The contrast also shows from att.i.tudes in the arts that are intrinsically two-faced. On the one hand money and commerce are rejected. On the other hand trade is very present in the temple of sacred art, as it was in the temple of the Jews. The temple of art cannot exist without trade. More-over, the trade in art pro.ts from the belief that art is sacred and beyond commerce. For art-dealers denying the economy is pro.table: it is com-mercial to be anti-commercial. Such denial and simultaneous embrace of money is present in almost any transaction in the arts. Does this double moral standard contribute to the strong contrast between wealth and poverty in the arts? These are challenging questions that this book on the exceptional economy of the arts tries to answer.

The Art Forms Addressed Because I am a visual artist I shall use exam-ples from the visual arts more than from other art forms, but this does not imply that my a.n.a.lysis only applies to the visual arts. On the con-trary, in princ.i.p.al, I treat any object or activity that people in the West call art. For the a.n.a.lysis of the economy of the arts it is important how-ever, to acknowledge that experts (or the general public) sooner call cer-tain objects and activities art than other objects and activities. For in-stance opera is often 'more art' than pop music. In order to study this phenomenon, no art form, low or high, will be excluded from the a.n.a.ly-sis.

There is one exception; my a.n.a.lysis does not refer to the applied arts, but only to the '.ne arts' as they are called in the Anglo-Saxon countries or the 'autonomous arts' as they are called in mainland Western Europe. In the applied arts, the surplus of artists is not as large and income is more reasonable. In other words, the economy of the applied arts is not that exceptional.

The book a.n.a.lyzes the economy of the arts in mainland Western Europe, Britain and the usa. A recurring focus in the book will be com-paring the economy of the arts in mainland Western Western Europe and the usa. In many respects Britain .ts in somewhere in the middle. There-fore the book pays no separate attention to the economy of the arts in countries like Canada, Australia, or j.a.pan.

Method and Form Letting the artist and economist join forces is easier said than done. The culture of economists differs from the culture of artists, as was observed in The Two Cultures by C. P. Snow.1 Artists and economists speak different languages. Nevertheless, the apparent con-.ict also offers ample material for a.n.a.lysis. Therefore I shall begin each chapter with a confrontation between my beliefs as an artist and my beliefs as an economist and social scientist. In other words, by taking both points of view seriously, I will try to deal with the economic impact of the mystique of the arts. In doing so, I will also employ insights from the .elds of sociology and psychology.

But by using the artist's perspective along with that of more than one academic discipline I run the risk of losing readers along the way. On the one hand, artists and other people working in the art as well as readers educated in another social science may .nd the story to be too economic, while those educated in economics may .nd the arguments too artistic or sociological. I must also warn the reader that this book does not intend to produce the precise, rigorous and parsimonious research often a.s.soci-ated with economics. In order to make sense of the exceptional economy of the arts I shall stress the many ambiguities that confront the study of this peculiar economy. Nevertheless, by attempting to satisfy both the artist and economist inside me, I hope to satisfy the reader as well.

The a.n.a.lysis in this book rests on existing theories, available data, and on my own '.eldwork' in the arts. The observations I make as an artist are an important ethnographic empirical source within an interpretative approach to economics.2 They contribute to the picture of the arts eco-nomy as I portray it in this book. I have tried to create a convincing pic-ture. In this context, I advance a series of theses and propositions. I would be the .rst to acknowledge that the empirical support for some of these theses is insuf.cient. I also feel that more input from inst.i.tutional economics would have been fruitful. Because, after all, I am desperate to resume my artwork, I am more than happy to let other, more skilled and patient researchers .ll these lacunae. I certainly hope that my picture of the economy of the arts will inspire readers to draw their own picture. Only then will something like a 'true' picture begin to emerge.

The questions that are raised at the end of each chapter will hopefully serve to stimulate the discussion. I included them to make the reading of the text less pa.s.sive. The questions do not have a single 'correct' answer. The questions will hopefully invite the reader to re.ect on the chapter's .ndings.

For Whom I Have Written the Book The .rst group I had in mind while writing this book is artists. My colleagues are likely to recognize much of what I have written. The a.n.a.lysis will hopefully help them to develop a better understanding of their economic situation. I do not expect them to agree with all of my conclusions, but I think they will enjoy the discus-sion. Because of its critical stance, I think that this book should be a must read for all prospective artists. It should make them want to reconsider their decisions that led them to become artists.

This book is also written for economists interested in culture. I expect that for them it will contain some new and sometimes controversial insights. The same goes for other social scientists. I have tried to present economic insights in a way that will make them more accessible and interesting for non-economists.

Foremost, I have written this book for art administrators and people working in arts-related jobs. Because they are the 'mediators' between the arts and the rest of the world, they must be especially puzzled by the exceptional character of the economy of the arts. I expect that they as well as students who intend to .nd arts-related work shall bene.t most from my book. This would apply to students following a variety of courses in cultural studies, cultural economics, art economics, art his-tory, art marketing, and art management. The book does not offer straightforward advice, but hopefully its insights will provide the reader with cognition, inspiration, pleasure, and some useful despair.

Acknowledgements The Art Department of the ing Group, the Erasmus University, the Ministry of Education, Culture and Sciences (ocw) and the Netherlands Organization for Scienti.c Research (nwo) all made .nancial contributions.

I am especially thankful to my friends Arjo Klamer and Olav Velthuis. Klamer contributed in several ways to this book. First, he came to Rot-terdam and gathered an inspiring group of young scholars around him. This gave my withering interest in economics a new impetus. Second, it is nice competing with Arjo. I try to show that some of my views are better than his. Thirdly and most importantly, he contributed by respectfully criticizing the ma.n.u.script. (Even an extremely authority-phobic person as I am could handle this criticism from a 'superior' friend.) Olav and I share important socio-political views. Therefore he has been a most wel-come sparring partner throughout the writing process. Our discussions encouraged me to go further than I otherwise would have gone.

I also want to thank the following people who all made essential con-tributions to the book: Steve Austen, Maks Banens, Mark Blaug, Deirdre McCloskey, Krista Connerly, Peter Cross, Wilfred Dolfsma, Maarten Doorman, Bregje van Eekelen, Karlijn Ernst, Marlite Halbertsma, Sicco Heyligers, Teunis IJdens, Suzanne Janssen, Rianne Lannoy, Berend Jan Langenberg, Wouter de Nooy, Henk van Os, Pieter van Os, Bart Plantenga, Merijn Rengers, Marc Roscam Abbing, Barend Schuurman, Irene van Staveren, Ruth Towse, Rolf Toxopeus, Giga Weidenhammer, Rutger Wolfson, and P.W. Zuidhof.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge the following towns which I vis-ited between August 1997 and February 2001 while writing this book. Apart from Amsterdam I also ventured to Bangkok, Barcelona, Brussels, Budapest, Istanbul, Liege, London, Poznan, Prague, and Reci.. These lively towns and the people I met there made this project worthwhile. For most of the people I met, art meant little or nothing. I am amazed that I still manage to make such a fuss about it.

Chapter 1

Sacred Art

Who Has the Power to De.ne Art?

Feeling Uncomfortable About Art Alex, who is both artist and economist, lives in a house with six adults and two children. They share a living room and eat dinner together. The other adults have above average educations and work in technical professions. Alex noticed that at home he usually behaves like an economist rather than an artist. That way they all speak the same language. When he begins to behave like an artist, his housemates feel less comfortable. Once a week Alex picks little Judith, one of the children in the house, up from school and they spend the afternoon together. Sometimes they visit galleries or museums. Judith is four and still enjoys it. The other day her fa-ther, Eddy, con.ded to Alex that he is pleased that Alex is bringing some cultural education into Judith's life. She really can't expect to receive much cultural education from her parents, Eddy added apologetically.

Cultural Superiority versus Inferiority Alex .nds it hard to characterize his own art. People knowledgeable about art usually characterize his artwork as so-called contemporary or avant-garde. They add that his art reveals aspects of outsider art or 'art brut'.1 Alex thinks that this puts him in a no-man's-land where his work is respected in both avant-garde art and traditional circles. He exhibits in both areas. However, Alex soon discovered that these two areas in the arts do not carry the same weight in the art world. Each year Alex exhibits his pastel drawings of 'heads' as he calls them in an annual portrait show. The portrait painters who exhibit in this show have one thing in common: they are not ashamed to reveal their traditional schooling. One day during the course of the show, Alex had to be an atten-dant. He had plenty of time to watch people. From earlier experience he already knew that the longer visitors remain in front of a particular artist's work the higher their appreciation of the work. Most of the people, how-ever, pa.s.s right by his work without stopping, as if there's nothing to see. When he confronts them later, they usually apologize, even though they do not realize he is the artist. They usually say something like: "I suppose it is good, but personally I don't like it." But he is delighted to learn that some visitors a minority only have eyes for his work. When Alex confronts them they will angrily declare that his work is the only thing here that could be called art. Alex notes that these visitors express this as if it were a fact. Unlike the earlier group, they did not express it as a personal opinion. There was no apology. Alex is struck by the asymmetrical nature of the behavior of these two groups.

Why is it that Eddy, in the .rst ill.u.s.tration, apologizes for being unable to provide his daughter with a more culturally oriented upbringing? And how can we explain why the exhibition's ordinary visitors, the ones who prefer the traditional paintings, apologize for not showing more interest in the avant-garde paintings, while those who prefer the avant-garde paintings are angry at being confronted with the more traditional paint-ings?

To be honest, as an artist and an art lover, I take the difference in behavior for granted. I think that certain kinds of art are superior to others, and therefore, I .nd it natural that one group has no respect for the art preferred by the other and that the latter group looks up to the art of the .rst group. As a social scientist however, I am sometimes bewil-dered by the asymmetry in the groups' respective appraisals, and I desire to understand it.

Is it possible that certain artworks are 'more' art than others? This depends on one's de.nition of art. So, what is art? Although this is prob-ably the last question one would expect in a book about the economy of the arts, I intend to show that the discussion of the question is essential for the a.n.a.lysis of the arts economy.

1.

Art is What People Call Art

When I am among colleagues in the arts, we always end up in discussions about what art is and what isn't. But when I am among economists in the art-economics .eld, we never discuss this question. Likewise, in books and articles on the economics of the arts, economists seldom pay atten-tion to the de.nition of their subject matter. David Throsby, in an impor-tant review on the progress of cultural economics, writes: "When asked to de.ne jazz, Louis Armstrong is reputed to have replied, 'If you got to ask, you ain't never going to know.'"2 Throsby then dismisses the ques-tion of de.ning art. What he is suggesting by this is that if you need to ask what art is, you will never know. At the same time, Throsby expects his readers to know what art is. Meaning that it is tacit knowledge; that it's not only impossible but also unnecessary to put such knowledge into words.

Not de.ning the subject matter can be tricky. After all, economists discussing art always have an implicit notion of what art is and isn't in the back of their minds, and this notion necessarily in.uences their .nd-ings.3 For instance, in many studies on the economy of the arts no atten-tion is paid to pop music, while the reasons for this oversight are unclear. Is it because pop music isn't art, or are there other reasons?

As an artist and art lover I want to believe that works of art are prod-ucts that have intrinsic qualities that ultimately turn them into art. Cer-tain forms of music and painting are art, others are not. But if somebody were to ask me to name the qualities that turn paintings into art, I may well point to qualities that some of my colleagues would disagree with. Hence the heated discussions. Evidently, contradicting views exist on what art is, and this does not help in the construction of a timeless de.ni-tion of art.

Given these kinds of controversies, it is understandable that econo-mists do not feel competent enough to make absolute statements about what art is. The subject matter can also be discussed in relative terms, however. How do people de.ne art? Do some people have a larger say in the de.nition of art than others? And how do these differences translate to the economy of the arts?

In mentioning Louis Armstrong, Throsby touches upon a phenome-non that is important in the present context. If Throsby had written his article on the economics of the arts in the days Louis Armstrong was active as a musician he would never have cited him. The amazing thing is that in those days most people would not have called Armstrong an artist. At that time jazz was not art. It is likely that Armstrong did not see himself as an artist. He must have certainly seen himself as a .ne musi-cian and a great entertainer, as did his audience, but not as an artist. Since then, Jazz has turned into art, even with retroactive effect. So Throsby can cite Armstrong with no qualms in his treatise about art.

It is surprising how the boundaries of art can change so profoundly. Values have changed and so has the de.nition of art. Back then Jazz was not considered 'real' art and now it is. On the other hand, many art lovers consider the late nineteenth century German symbolist paintings hardly as 'real' art anymore. Thus it follows that what people call art is relative; it is not based on intrinsic qualities, as the artist inside me would like to believe.

Because what is considered as art is relative, I prefer to follow the soci-ological approach: art is what people call art. The demarcation of what art is, is based on the judgment of people, where 'people' can be a small group of insiders or the general population. In the sociological approach to art it is often an 'art world' that de.nes what art is in a speci.c artistic area.4 The term implies that people who have a relative big say in the de.-nition of art are related; they are part of a group or 'world'. Such worlds can be de.ned narrowly or broadly. If not indicated otherwise, I use art worlds in a broad sense.

In calling certain phenomena art, people are in effect ranking these phenomena. People are always distinguis.h.i.+ng products that are consid-ered art from those that are not. Behind this binary ordering lies a contin-uous ordering. People cla.s.sify products as being more or less 'art'. Some-where a demarcation line is drawn: above this line art is considered high art, .ne art, or 'real' art, while below this line we .nd low art, popular art, or non-art.

Because the arts evolve and new genres arise, an art world is continu-ously repositioning this demarcation line. This is apparent from the Jazz example. When relatively small art worlds are a.n.a.lyzed, there can be as many orderings and lines and subsequent de.nitions of art as there are art worlds. Within society, however, such different opinions 'add up' and a dominant de.nition emerges. That de.nition ends up governing the economy of the arts.

It is clear that this book will not answer the literal question 'what is art?' n.o.body can accurately detect art by using some objective device. Instead people are asked what they think art is. In this context it should be noted that when people call certain things art, they do not all have the same say or vote. Some have a bigger say than others. This is comparable to the market where some have more money to spend than others. There-fore, art is what people call art, acknowledging that some people have a bigger say in it than others have (thesis 1).

2.

Cultural Inferiority and Superiority Color the Economy of the Arts

As an artist I cater almost exclusively to the rich and well-educated. Sometimes I feel uncomfortable about this. I often don't feel my work is any better than that of 'artists' whose work can be found in open-air markets for instance, and who sell their work to the not so rich and the not as well educated people. I don't understand why my work is judged to be true art while theirs is not. As a social scientist I want to understand this phenomenon. That's why I climb up to the tenth .oor in the hope of seeing a pattern to what is going on.

From the tenth .oor I notice that the phenomenon is not unique. First of all, I see many other examples of systematic differences in taste between the higher and lower strata in cla.s.ses. I notice, for instance, that the printer of this book, with his working-cla.s.s background, buys Guns and Roses cds, comic books, and a little sculpture of a dolphin to put on his windowsill. These things represent art to him. The editor of this book, who has a more upscale upbringing, buys cds with music com-posed by Paganini and goes to the museum of modern art to look at paintings by Lichtenstein and sculptures by Jeff Koons. That is her art. Tastes differ; this is not so special. At .rst sight, these divergent prefer-ences appear to originate from non-overlapping, separate realms, which are based on completely different and irreconcilable views of what art is.

Then I notice that the editor and the printer know about each other's choiceswhenitcomestoart,albeitnotindetail.Theyjudgeeachother's art.Ontheonehand,comicbookdrawingsarelessarttotheeditorthan Lichtenstein's blow-ups. As a matter of fact, she actually resents the printer's choices in art: "This is not art!" On the other hand, the printer could well say something like: "Well, yes, this cla.s.sical stuff what was the name? Paginanni? is of course 'real' art and Guns and Roses is not. Yes, I know, cla.s.sical music is 'real' art, and I suppose I should know moreabout.i.t,andaboutthethingsinmuseumsofmodernartaswellbut, well,youknow,it'sjustnotforpeoplelikeme."Evidentlyhelooksupto the editor's high art, while the editor looks down on the printer's low art.

Research has shown that social cla.s.ses are not only vaguely aware of each other's preferences, but that they order them more or less similarly.5 What is high for the editor is also high for the printer. Therefore judg-ments regarding art are largely similar between various social groups. They run parallel. However, judgments concerning each other's art choices do not run similar. On the contrary, they are asymmetrical.

It is this apparent asymmetry or non-reciprocity in judgments that is so striking. People have notions regarding the art of other social groups and they a.s.sess these notions. Group A puts down the art of group B, while group B looks up to the art choices made by group A. I call this the phenomenon of asymmetric judgment or cultural asymmetry. 6 It is this asymmetry that is revealed by the ill.u.s.trations. In the .rst ill.u.s.tration the a-cultural housemate apologizes for not being culturally educated. The second ill.u.s.tration reveals a group apologizing for preferring traditional art, while the group that prefers contemporary art scolds the traditional art group for their preferences. The fact that those moving up the social ladder are more likely to change their choice of art than those moving down also proves that judgments are asymmetrical. Two types of art exist: superior and inferior art, high and low art, or real and non-art.

Normally, people are so involved in discussions regarding high versus low art that they are unable to develop a tenth-.oor perspective to see patterns in their and other people's behavior. From the tenth .oor, how-ever, we observe that there is considerable social agreement on what is 'real' art and what is not. Within a given culture, a dominant and univer-sal undercurrent exists which determines what is more and what is less art.7 Much of the reasoning in later chapters rests on the thesis that because of cultural inferiority and cultural superiority judgments are asymmet-ric. The thesis rests on .ve generally held a.s.sumptions. 1 There exists a general social strati.cation in society. Some people hold higher positions, with more wealth and honor than other people, and most people are aware of these positions.

2People want to 'better themselves'. (This is a basic a.s.sumption in eco-nomics.) This implies that people prefer climbing up the social ladder to falling down.

3Because people aspire to higher positions on the social ladder, they focus on the symbolic goods and practices, including works of art and ways of consuming art, of those people in higher positions. They look up to these goods and practices. It is their future. On the other hand, they try to distance themselves from people lower than them on the social ladder. They look down on their goods and practices.

4 Because of its symbolically rich content art is used to mark one's social status. 5 Social coherence in society is strong enough to maintain a shared notion of high and low art.8 If these a.s.sumptions are correct, they offer a solution to the questions raised in the ill.u.s.trations. 'Why do the lower cla.s.ses look up to the art chosen by the upper cla.s.ses, while the latter look down upon the art of the former?' 'How can we explain why Eddy and the people at the exhibi-tion look up to the .ne arts and apologize for knowing so little about it?' Because people want to improve their social standing, they are generally oriented towards the art of the people above them, and apologize for their own choices. 'And why do people broadly agree on what real art is?' Due to social cohesion people share a general notion of high and low in society.

Generally these a.s.sumptions are seldom disputed. Nevertheless, some people argue that the differences between high and low art have started to disappear.9 It's true that some contemporary consumers of high art also quite publicly consume low art as well. This could signify that cul-tural asymmetry would become less important. For instance, I listen to Tom Jones even though I have little in common with the average Tom Jones fan. This kind of cosmopolitan omnivorousness, as Peterson calls it, however, does not necessarily contradict the notion of asymmetry.10 (1) This phenomenon is for the most part non-reciprocal; it applies mostly to elite art consumers and seldom to the average consumer of low art.11 (2) It is often more relevant to look at the ways in which art prod-ucts are consumed.12 Even when certain works of art, like Van Gogh paintings, are 'shared' by high and low groups, the ways in which the art-works are consumed and the symbolic practices in which they serve differ between the various cla.s.ses.13 For instance, when lower cla.s.s art becomes part of the omnivorous consumption patterns of higher cla.s.ses these patterns are sometimes 'camp'. A double moral standard is involved here: consumers both admire and mock the culture of the lower cla.s.ses. Therefore, I do not think that the difference between high and low art is necessarily disappearing and I maintain that the thesis of asym-metric judgment remains valid.14 By the way, as is common in the .eld of economics, I use such terms as 'consumption', 'to consume', and 'consumer' in a broad sense. Some readers will probably a.s.sociate consumption with 'using up', but in this book, consuming art does not imply that art is swallowed. Watching, lis-tening, and attending can all be forms of consumption.

As long as there is social strati.cation and as long as art products are used to mark a person's position on the social ladder, an asymmetric judgment of art products will exist. People higher on the ladder look down on the art of people lower than them, while the latter do not look down on, but look up to the art of the former (thesis 2). It follows that the power to de.ne art is not distributed equally among social cla.s.ses (thesis 3). People in higher positions have a de facto larger say in the de.nition of art than people in lower positions (thesis 4). Whether they are aware of it or not, people in higher positions appropriate the de.nition of art.

3.

'Art is Sacred'

Art is apparently attractive to the higher social cla.s.ses. So what are the attractive qualities that people in the art world a.s.sociate with art? Sacredness is one such quality and a relatively constant one at that.

Long before Romanticism, people a.s.sociated art with what was con-sidered sacred, an a.s.sociation that became .rmly established during this period. And ever since Romanticism, people have tended to call what they perceive as sacred objects and activities art and vice versa. By calling objects and activities art they become consecrated. What people label as art tends to be considered sacred or to stand for sacred matters.15 It is important to emphasize that this view does not imply that art is sacred in any objective sense. (Nor that the author believes art to be sacred. On the contrary, many insights in this book tend to demystify art.) Yet, it is also important to acknowledge that when a general belief in art's sacredness exists in society, anyone can harbor traces of this belief.

I am no different. I too tend to put art on a pedestal, as if it were holy and therefore in need of special treatment. Let me offer two examples. First, when I meet youngsters who are interested in becoming artists, I immediately start to stimulate them. I would not bother if all they wanted to become was a hairdresser or a manager. Only later will I inform them that there are already too many artists and that art might end up disappointing them. Second, recently in a Dutch journal I advo-cated for lower subsidies for the arts in the Netherlands. After I had writ-ten down my opinion, I noticed that I was my own worst enemy. Even before anybody reacted, I started to feel guilty and I had many sleepless nights. It felt as if I had somehow desecrated art.

Many artists and art lovers experience art as intrinsically sacred. The work of art is animated. Not only is the artist 'in' the work of art, but often G.o.d or a supernatural power as well. Art is miraculous. It is a gift from above and artists are gifted. Because the source of the gift is unknown, a miracle is involved that goes beyond human understand-ing.16 It has been suggested that in its sacredness, art has joined religion and to some degree taken its place.17 Whether this is true or not, part of art consumption clearly resembles religious consumption. For instance, the silence in museums and at cla.s.sical concerts reminds us of religious wor-s.h.i.+p.18 Art has an aura, as Walter Benjamin called it. He drew attention to the cult value of art and the ritual functions of art.19 The higher the cult value of objects and activities and the more important their ritual functions, in other words, the more sacred objects and activities are, and consequently, the more likely they will be called art. (Benjamin expected that the technical reproduction of art would lead to its demysti.cation. But thus far, technical reproduction has not put an end to the cult of art. It has instead only added new forms.) The fact that art or the .ne arts are put on a pedestal may serve a pur-pose. Art probably represents or expresses values that are of the utmost importance to society. Art, like religion, manifests the basic values in society and the changes in those values. Moreover, works of art comment on these values, often less directly, but not necessarily less effectively than the stories in the great religious books once did. In their recording capacity, art offers an amazing archive of what came before. No history book can compete with the vividness of old paintings, sculptures, and lit-erature. 'Art' is a treasure trove consisting of almost everything of value that our ancestors have left behind. This way art stands for the acc.u.mu-lated past. It is above all this quality that adds to the a.s.sumed sacredness of art. Artists, like priests, both guard this treasure trove and add to it. Because art represents high values, it is looked up to. Art as a bearer of the values of civilization must be sacred.20 The same applies when art expresses important values inherent to the ident.i.ties of nations or of ethnic and religious groups.

The perversity of the low or popular 'art' of the common man adds to the sacredness of high art. Low 'art' degrades, while .ne art enn.o.bles. To Allen Bloom in his book The Closing of the American Mind, rock music offers "nothing high, profound, delicate, tasteful, or even decent", while .ne art, including cla.s.sical music, is "something high, profound, respectable".21 Therefore, the asymmetrical valuation in the arts does not only follow from the sacredness and therefore absolute superiority of the .ne arts, but also from the perversity of low 'art'.

In other respects as well, art's sacredness does not stand on its own. It interacts with other relatively constant factors to determine what people call art, like the authenticity, uselessness, and remoteness of art, ele-ments that will be discussed in the following sections.

4.

'Art is Authentic'

A work of art and its maker are said to be authentic. In a formal sense, they are authentic if the artist in question is the only one who could have made the particular work of art.22 A unique .ngerprint of the artist somehow manages to creep into the work of art, its style, the signature or some other quality.23 In expressionist works of art the personal touch is very visible; people 'recognize' the artist in the work of art. In other works of art this quality remains more hidden; in fact, so much so that sometimes only the artist's signature can be veri.ed as genuine.

Becauseofauthenticitypeoplelookuptoartandartists.Whatelsecan explain that in 1998 the Dutch government was prepared to pay 36 mil-lion Euro (appr. 32 million Dollars) for an un.nished painting by Mon-drian, as mentioned in the ill.u.s.tration on page 232?Afterall,it'sjusta piece of linen on a wooden frame with some dots of paint on it.24 Much cheapercopiescouldeasilybeproduced,whichintheirappearancecould offer almost anything the original offers. Nevertheless, people believe thattheoriginalisirreplaceable,becausethey know thatMondrianmade thisspeci.cworkofart.Theyfeelthatinonewayoranotherheis'in'the painting. Or, to give another example, only the extreme importance of authenticity can explain that the price of a Rembrandt painting drops to lessthan a tenth when experts prove that a student of Rembrandt painted it.

The extraordinary value of authenticity in modern art has a long his-tory, which commences in the Renaissance. Prior to the Renaissance, works people now call art were basically multiples usually made by trained artisans. The producers never intended to let their personalities in.uence their work. It was during the Renaissance that works of art began to become animated the artist 'entered' the work of art. There-fore, the signature of the artist was no longer irrelevant. Animation was clearly a magical act. Gradually it began to render the work of art sacred, and little by little this sacredness started to rub off on artists as well.

Before the Renaissance, people were primarily part of a group. Since the Renaissance, authenticity has gradually become one of the highest ideals in modern society. Only with Romanticism did this ideal become clearly embodied in speci.c individuals, above all in so-called bohemian artists. Culture as a representation of a superior reality was an 'inven-tion' of Romanticism, as was the notion of free disinterested, sponta-neous 'creation', founded on innate inspiration.25 At the beginning of the nineteenth century, artists began to emerge as bohemians who stood next to the bourgeoisie. At .rst these bohemian artists were relatively unimportant. By the end of the nineteenth century, their numbers had increased and by the early twentieth century the pres-ence of bohemian artists was felt everywhere. At present, the bohemian artist serves as the role model for almost all artists. Even for those (post-modern) artists who oppose this model and try to develop a new model, the old model remains the point of reference.

Artists were and are the only people who can give veri.able proof of their uniqueness, of their authenticity. Although in everyday life, the bourgeoisie may have shown their contempt for bohemian artists, they also developed feelings of jealousy for these artists as well as an increas-ing esteem for successful artists and art generally. Successful artists were viewed as the sole producers of authenticity. True artists were and are geniuses. This wors.h.i.+p of art has become very important in the twentieth century.

Beginning with the Renaissance and up to Romanticism, some artists were held in high esteem but they did not offer an alternative to the bour-geois lifestyle, which was .rmly implanted in the world of business and commerce of those days. However, over the last one hundred and .fty years artists and the arts have become symbols of an alternative to the bourgeois lifestyle. It was a romantic, not a realistic alternative; and this probably added to its allure. Since Romanticism, society has wors.h.i.+pped authentic and sacred art.

Art consumers often try to identify with one or more of their favorite artists. By listening to their works or by surrounding themselves with their works they share a little of the artist's uniqueness.26 Artists are adored. In the market, this leads to extremely high prices as well as high incomes for a small select group of artists.

Even today people are still jealous of artists. It is telling that when I am at a social gathering of scientists, the host will usually introduce me emphatically as an artist. Moreover, I get far more attention than I would get, were I presented as an economist. This implies that a romantic vision of the arts still exists. In our rational modern society art .lls a void or compensates for what is missing in our everyday lives. The arts offer a romantic alternative (thesis 5).27

5.

'Art is Super.uous and Remote'

Remoteness and uselessness are two other relatively constant factors that can often be found in objects and activities that people call art and consequently, add to the notion of art's sacredness. Art tends to be detached from the needs of everyday life.28 Food for instance, ful.lls needs. Among its functions are nourishment and social gatherings. But art seems to serve no such purpose; it is super.uous, luxury par excel-lence. The aesthetic experience thus is an aim in itself.

According to Laermans, cla.s.sical music and modern visual art are considered art because people have conferred the characteristics of use-lessness and luxury on them. Their only acknowledged purpose is the rendering of an aesthetic experience. Pop music and other forms of ma.s.s-produced low art products, on the other hand, are not art, because people need them in order to identify with other people, to .nd role models, to understand life and most importantly, to learn about what is good and what is bad.29 In this respect it is revealing that when artists in low art genres such as pop music or advertis.e.m.e.nt design try to join the .ne arts, they often claim that their products have become more formal and more detached and therefore less useful.

If art has little use value it becomes a luxury and thus works of art can be found primarily among wealthy people and inst.i.tutions. Since their daily needs are ful.lled they can afford art. In this respect, art is aristo-cratic. It comes to people who never had to work hard to be able to buy it and who apparently do not 'need' it. The fact that art and the consump-tion of art are elevated above the daily worries of the vast majority of mankind, gives art its special status.