An Introduction to Ineconomy

On May 1st, 2019, a small group of people were seen in the São Paulo neighborhood of Barra Funda carrying a black banner with the words: O BOLETO SEMPRE VENCE, which in Portuguese literally means “the bill must always be paid”. For those walking the streets on that sunny May Day, the small, sparse and silent protest – not really obstructing anyone from going anywhere – must have seemed unusual, if not comical.

In Portuguese, the word VENCER can mean both “to win” and, in the context of bills, “to become due”. The banner is a reference to a slogan often used in demonstrations claiming that when united, people always win; however, in this case, the bill always wins. It is a straightforward and cheap pun, as puns should be, but it also has a touch of resentment in its allusion to the pointlessness of working. For many people, all they do is work to pay the bills, to survive, to continue to work and ultimately pay more bills. Adding to the contradiction, the act took place on a public holiday, which only applies to salaried workers who (at least until recently) have enjoyed the historical benefits and guarantees set forth by the Brazilian Consolidation of Labor Laws. The rest of the workers – the subcontracted, the self-employed or those looking for work – were not strolling the streets that day.

For those walking the streets on that sunny May Day, the small, sparse and silent protest – not really obstructing anyone from going anywhere – must have seemed unusual, if not comical.

A photographer followed the protest from a few feet ahead. He was not a reporter, but one of the participants. His aim was to produce an image that could function as an artwork. From this point of view, the banner also evoked a common theme in the field of visual arts: the disconnection between symbolic and financial outcome as a result of artistic work. This means that many artists are forced to find a secondary source of income in order to, paradoxically, support their primary – mostly unprofitable – activity. Therefore, the public holiday added another layer of contradiction as it is supposed to be a “free” day, hence ideal for artistic practice. That small number of people, with their banner and camera, were not leisurely strolling the streets that day.

Since I like what I do, I often have the impression that I am simply responding to an inner motivation, an intrinsic desire to make art. However, some of the theoretical references I have read in the context of the study group have led me to believe I am in fact wrong. Here, I am considering one particular argument raised by an artist-researcher from the USA, Andrea Fraser, who is known for her works linked to Institutional Critique. In her paper “How to Provide an Artistic Study: An Introduction”, she highlights the myth of the “subjective experience” she believes most artists have. For these artists – myself intimately included – there would be no “demand for art as such, but only for some individual artists of particular genius etcetera, and, in the absence of such artists, the entire contemporary art apparatus would just disappear”.

However, the contrary is true. The evidence is that in Brazil, as well as in the rest of the world, in the last few decades the art market has vastly expanded, fueled by a growing demand for contemporary works. But this is not exclusive to the market: institutions, such as foundations and museums are also involved. This demand, rather than being pressingly aimed at “individual artists of particular genius”, is fiercely disputed by all art agents: artists but also journalists, critics, curators and dealers. “These struggles”, Fraser explains, “are the dynamics through which the field [of art] reproduces itself.” Perhaps a simpler way of putting it is: people desire works of art but no one needs your or my art. Only, of course, if proved otherwise. In order to secure legitimation in a field that requires institutional credentials (on top of sale figures), artists must find a way of subsidizing their practice via secondary jobs, help from family members or partners (if this is an option), welfare assistance (if this is an option), public or private grants (if this is an option) or, in general, via a combination of some of these elements. Even for the artists who are already established in the field, it is important to highlight that sales alone do not guarantee a fixed income. Even when the artist sells at a considerable monetary value, sales are often too staggered and irregular.

This calculation is as simple as it is ruthless: more time spent raising funds means less time to produce art; more time spent producing means less money to spend and to dedicate to artistic production.

The type of art concerned also does not matter. Those bills will become due eventually. In my case, I am “project” artist or a “post-studio” artist. As opposed to artists that need physical space and materials at their disposal, I can work perfectly well from a café using only my laptop. However, when it comes to my exhibitions, I have to pay the many service providers I depend on: the professional who treats and prints my photos, the glassblower that makes my neon pieces, exhibition technicians, the people that participate in my performances, my text reviser, possibly exhibition mediators etc. In turn, those artists that have managed to find steady 9-5 jobs report that the stability provided by fixed income often comes with the frustration of wasting the best part of their time away from their art practice. In any case, it is important to compare the time we spend raising funds for the production of works and the time we spend using that money. This calculation is as simple as it is ruthless: more time producing means less money to spend. In my case, I have the privilege of enjoying my secondary activity, which is teaching.

Going beyond Walter Benjamin’s claim regarding the 1930s and 1940s, art seems to be capable of assigning a distinctive aura not only to artworks but also to their authors.

This explains why a tool for eccentricity – a word that literally means to remove something out of the center, the norm, the model – can trigger the opposite movement, that is, to place in the center of attention certain marginal elements that would otherwise be condemned to a rigorous regime of social invisibility. For certain individuals, mainly for those relegated to the margins of the system, such as Black, Indigenous and LGBTQI+ people, the option to become an artist goes beyond a simple search for legitimation. It is also a survival strategy through exposing their difference.

The aura that is inherent to the art field is due to the fact that it constitutes a privileged source of social capital. The term, widely used in social sciences, describes a series of extremely valuable resources that secure legitimation and influence in relation to a complex network of social relations. Even though we are used to identifying and categorizing social classes into groups A, B, C and so forth, which respond to income criteria, these letters – in theory – say nothing about this other type of value, which exists beyond financial reach. In principle, true social (or cultural) capital is not something that can be bought. However, in practice, we see that the most powerful classes, in economic terms, are also the most culturally influential. The apparent contradiction between these two types of capital is solved, in this case, not by the concrete negation of money, but by the gesture of symbolically concealing it. Put simply, it is inappropriate to talk about money at the dinner table.

This etiquette has serious consequences for the field of contemporary art. Even though the field is deeply rooted in a business mindset, everything happens as if everyone was averse to money. “One thing is the aesthetic value, another is the economic value of an artwork”. This statement is often heard in high social circles, coming from those who can afford to buy the artworks. And of course they acquire them for their social value, which means that, at least in terms of discourse, buyers totally agree with artists: in art (and culture in general), money is not an end, but simply a means. However, there is something very insidious in this rhetorical “coincidence” that separates art and money in such a clear way. The results are very different for some than for others.

According to the logic of artistic autonomy, we work only for ourselves; for our own satisfaction, for the satisfaction of our own criteria of judgment, subject only to the internal logic of our practice, the demand of our consciences or our drives.

This rationale benefits the holders of economic capital. By putting their money at the service of art, via generous purchases or donations, they are rewarded with social capital, enjoying now the status of art lovers or patrons. Furthermore, this protocol is also extremely favorable to business, as noted by Dutch artist and economist Hans Abbing when questioning the reasons behind this apparent “denial of the economy of the arts”. In his introduction to his 2002 book Why Are Artists Poor? The Exceptional Economy of the Arts, Abbing writes:

« On the one hand [in art] money and commerce are rejected. On the other hand, trade is very present in the temple of sacred art […]. The temple of art cannot exist without trade. Moreover, the trade in art profits from the belief that art is sacred and beyond commerce. For art dealers denying the economy is profitable: it is commercial to be non-commercial. »

This is something that in business jargon is known as a win-win situation. However, such denial prevents the people that produce the art to aspire to a better financial position. According to this logic, this is a two-way scenario: either the artists are serving only themselves with their creations and cannot expect (or demand) any financial return, or are simply providing a service to others, therefore, no longer entitled to any symbolic return. Hence we must conclude that the real artists are those that work autonomously, for the sheer pleasure (or need) to express themselves. And, in particular, those that never let themselves be corrupted by another salaried activity, undoubtedly at a lower social capital rank. As observed by Andrea Fraser, this demand, which is internalized by the artists themselves, is misleading: “Am I really serving my own interests? According to the logic of artistic autonomy, we work only for ourselves; for our own satisfaction, for the satisfaction of our own criteria of judgment, subject only to the internal logic of our practice, the demand of our consciences or our drives”. The response to her own question is: “It has been my experience that the freedom gained in this form of autonomy is often no more than the basis for self-exploitation”.