Van Gogh and the Trap of the Artists’ Market
Danielle Evans / WNW Member
Upon returning from a conference in Vegas, I needed a break. The multi-day event was a sensory overload on top of the Sin City glitz, so much that I’d retreat to my room each night to stare at the blank ceiling. A friend invited me to see Loving Vincent in theatres that evening, and I decided literally watching paint dry would balance me out again. The film achieved multiple nominations for its intensive production; literally every frame of animation was an oil painting depicting the late life and death of impressionist painter, Vincent Van Gogh. Ironically, I rushed home again to stare at the ceiling. There was much to unpack.
Van Gogh’s story is a typical case of a self-conscious creative with no marketing skills floundering in an artists’ market. He sold a product to a small community that didn’t value him and couldn’t patron him longterm. His friends and family bought his work underpriced and out of support, and he circulated the work in places that felt safe, among other artists. He found no notoriety until after his death, a martyr of the ”selfless act of art”. We venerate Van Gogh for his struggle, which is dangerous, and in doing so we’ve internalized more of his example than we realize. His story is so backwards from what the creative journey can be.
“Van Gogh’s story is a typical case of a self-conscious creative with no marketing skills floundering in an artists’ market. He sold a product to a small community that didn’t value him and couldn’t patron him longterm.”
It’s not Van Gogh’s fault his legacy is misused. When non-creatives learn about art, well-meaning teachers summarize the highs and lows of the creative struggle as lopping off a body part. Artists — in this case I mean creatives, musicians, actors, and other eccentrics — are painted with a broad brush of misunderstanding, isolation, and chronic phobias. Success becomes a trailing thought, since most artists known to the general public gain posthumous notoriety. His life mutated into martyrdom because ”he never made a penny but look at all this art he made for art’s sake.” The miseducation of the masses does not venerate art and dehumanizes artists.
Van Gogh painted family and friends, peers at the pub, his neighborhood. A flick through our social media feeds proves our subject matter has changed very little. I know traditional painters that create landscapes of well-known local landmarks and wonder why the paintings won’t sell in the city. The subject matter is common; inhabitants of town pass these landmarks daily, often multiple times. They do not need someone else’s view of the city. They see it through their own eyes. This is the wrong market. Tourists or those that once lived here are more apt to buy these paintings because they create nostalgia. These painters assume those living here will buy because they are safe; exposing the work to someone new is a risk, scary. Circulating the work to the wrong audience is actually more risky because the elements of surprise and novelty are lost.
When we hang in safe markets, we rob ourselves of the joy of connection. There are few things as moving as an email from across the country or the globe. If my art lands with someone from another culture, those borders between us shrink. For a moment, we touch. And it’s beautiful.
“When we hang in safe markets, we rob ourselves of the joy of connection. There are few things as moving as an email from across the country or the globe. If my art lands with someone from another culture, those borders between us shrink. For a moment, we touch. And it’s beautiful.”
Van Gogh aimed his work at his family and peers. His brother, Theo, bought a couple of his paintings when things got a little rocky. Most creatives look to their support circle for a jump start and validation from their peer groups. While these things are very important, rarely do they translate to sales. While fellow artists understand the value of the work, rarely are they positioned to pay. Even famous artists often bartered paintings for supplies or traded them like Pokemon cards. Most are not positioned to purchase art at a reasonable price. There are two kinds of creatives endgames out in the world: creating for peer validation or mass consumption. I’ll admit it feels gross to write both of those statements, but at our basest we are performing when we create. It’s important to know our audience. While the Internet has created marketplaces for artists to buy sundries from other artists, we are the first to withhold our expendable income when the economy shrinks. The work I have in my home was gifted to me or purchased at an extremely low price, despite my protesting; I am the first to admit I cannot afford such luxuries often. Our support systems are usually not our financial systems, and that is okay.
There are people out there looking for our work to utter what their souls cannot. They are likely not in our industries. They are not in our hashtags. Distinction amongst our peers helps us sharpen our skills. As with traditional academics, a well-received white paper doesn’t put food on the table. Peer validation is necessary to refine our taste and output, but it’s nowhere to live. There are those searching for culture with ample resources, those who want to feel alive while realizing the massive livings they earn won’t satisfy this urge alone. The Internet has brought them to our doorsteps, if we’re willing to broaden our gaze.
“Most creatives look to their support circle for a jump start and validation from their peer groups. While these things are very important, rarely do they translate to sales. While fellow artists understand the value of the work, rarely are they positioned to pay.”
Immediately after Van Gogh’s death in Auvers-sur-Oise, his paintings made their way to Paris, where they began to circulate like wildfire. The immense tragedy of this posthumous reception is underscored by the distance between the two cities: a mere 35mi / 57km. Auvers-sur-Oise was a blue collar town of farmers and peasants with a smattering of country gentry. This was not a sustainable location for a painter, but given Van Gogh’s chronic depression, it’s likely he didn’t think he could do better. Our work, forged with sweat and sacrifice, deserves an audience.
For some, this means a physical pilgrimage to The Big City. For others it’s logging in to LinkedIn when the world screams Instagram. Regardless, we should never assume our target audience is us. We can hit that bullseye with our eyes closed.
Seeking visibility uncovers a deep seated fear: do we fear success? If the traditional model presented to us is obscurity and poverty, who are we to overcome the odds? Jon Acuff’s Quitter found its way into my hands at the beginning of my career. I was chopping onions as my ex read a paragraph:
“We know how to talk ourselves out of or into things better than anyone on the planet. Think about a time when you made a horrible mistake and someone said, ‘What were you thinking?’
Usually you weren’t doing it because you thought it would be a horrible mistake. You thought it would be great. And you talked yourself into it. Because no one can convince us like we can convince us.”
I put down the knife, sobbing. It wasn’t the onions.
Sometimes we fear success because we spend our lives settling. Conversely, there are dozens of cautionary tales of creatives that had and lost it all. What happens when we actually get what we want? When my first food type pieces began circulating the web, I was elated and then immediately panicked. ”What if I can’t do this again?” I asked. The success of the next three pieces ensured my first commercial job; on set I shook hands with an AD who dubbed me ”the food type girl.” Instantly I froze with fear about being pigeonholed. Accepting the fulfillment of your dreams is a conscious choice. The path to success can be steps away and yet feel like a chasm stretched out before us. We’re taught this path is elusive and rare, that we are undeserving of ease instead of struggle. This is a lie.
“For some, this means a physical pilgrimage to The Big City. For others, it’s logging in to LinkedIn when the world screams Instagram. Regardless, we should never assume our target audience is us. We can hit that bullseye with our eyes closed.”
We are worthy of the success we crave, the stability of knowing we reside in the right place at the right time. Van Gogh was inches from the notoriety he deserved and couldn’t bring himself to grasp it. In an age of connectedness, it’s easier to reach through zip codes and time zones for the right audiences. Our peers sharpen us. Our support systems are meant to ground us while we stretch without shackling ourselves to reality. When we think more broadly, we flip the script on what art means for ourselves and the generations that follow.
WNW Member Danielle Evans is an art director, lettering artist, speaker, and dimensional typographer. She’s worked with the likes of Disney, Target, the Guardian, PWC, (RED), McDonald’s, Aria, Condé Nast, Cadillac, and would love to work with you. Subscribe to her newsletter here.
Header Illustration by WNW Member Simon Flöter