Despite the time, effort and resources I have invested throughout the years attempting to correlate the art scene in Syria with the global trends of the world art market, I have not yet succeeded in finding a convincing answer to the following fundamental question: why have the aesthetics in our region (the so called Middle East) remained firmly rooted in what may be considered a universal human pathos (pleasing, soothing, intoxicating, disturbing or shocking as they may be), while those of the West have moved to the realm of the idiosyncratic and singular? Why are legendary sums of money being paid right now in the West for art that I might never consider purchasing (unless, of course, for the sake of reselling and making a small fortune)?
Being as curious as I am, I couldn’t simply shrug off phenomena like Andy Warhol or Damien Hirst contending that the unimaginably rich have their own sets of standards for spending their money that go far beyond my comprehension. I humbly believe that there might be something I am missing. Hence, I really need to work harder on ‘educating’ myself and exploring new territories that I have not yet erred into.
This is why I earnestly and diligently try to read every book I find about the contemporary art market. Collecting Contemporary by Adam Lindemann is one good example, and Seven Days in the Art World by Sarah Thornton is another example.
The book is a joy to read. It is laden with information and insight. It is even gossipy and funny.
Seven Days attempts to tell the story of the contemporary world art scene from seven vantage points: the artist at his studio, the arts critic, the arts magazine, the world of arts competitions and prizes, the international arts fairs, the Venice Biennale, and the auction houses.
On doing this,
However, the book, as compelling a read as it is, fails to address the fundamental questions of how great art is defined in today’s world, and what distinguishes a great artist from a successful one. It is more a work of a social anthropologist (the society being restricted in this case to the world of art) documenting a social strata than that of a serious art writer providing us with an erudite analysis of the driving forces of the contemporary world art scene.
Notwithstanding my unanswered questions, I still enjoyed reading the book.
P.S. If readers of my blog cannot empathize with my discombobulation vis-à-vis Warhol and Hirst, here is an example of a Hirs’t work of art that was rumored to be sold for 85 million US dollars.
(For the Love of God by Damien Hirst)
If this does not suffice to shock you, then read what the art critic of the British Daily Telegraph, Richard Dorment, wrote (and forgive the racist connotations about Arabs, Africans and South Americans):
"If anyone but Hirst had made this curious object, we would be struck by its vulgarity. It looks like the kind of thing Asprey or Harrods might sell to credulous visitors from the oil states with unlimited amounts of money to spend, little taste, and no knowledge of art. I can imagine it gracing the drawing room of some African dictator or Colombian drug baron. But not just anyone made it - Hirst did. Knowing this, we look at it in a different way and realise that in the most brutal, direct way possible, For the Love of God questions something about the morality of art and money."
With this comment, I rest my case.
