Are Prices the judge of value of art?

We live in different times; we love different in time. The love for money nay the love for greed is extensive and whole economic systems tumble. We desire what we do not need, and what we need we do not desire anymore.

Walk with me the little distance in time.

William Blake the poet and artist lived the intensities of his visions in both forms of art. His life lived in grinding poverty did not impinge on his rich inner life. He held himself above the mundane task of money and wealth and lived for the higher glories of the Infinite. In Marriage of Heaven and Hell he says,

“A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
The hours of folly are measur'd by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.

In his etchings, watercolours and paintings you begin a journey that’s to say the least endless. You experience another dimension.

His art and his poetry are way above the market system of pricing, nay a market system is an insult to his visionary cosmos.

Vincent Van Gogh depended on his sensitive, loving and caring brother Theo to live and to create. Sometimes because of lack of funds he accepted hospitality of some friends and felt guilty. The market, the disdainful market found him not good enough and he sold but one painting and had no solo show of his works while he lived. Now the world has discovered the art that is in communion with cosmos and how much money they pay for his works?

Amedeo Modigliani’s birth coincided with bankruptcy of his father’s business. He constantly suffered from one disease or the other from childhood. He painted path breaking works and sold but for very small prices.  He died in poverty at young age of 35. At times he paid for food in restaurants with his paintings!! I too had a similar experience when I initially worked in Europe or was deprived of my paintings by promise of an exhibition by clever galleries. Look at portraits and nudes he did; they broke fresh ground in aesthetics and we are proud to have such heritage inherited from him.

What’s galling is that market makes us believe higher the price higher is the value of art work. The market players work to create higher prices so that high price sits like a god in a temple and hence can not be questioned as arbiter of aesthetic value. Prices are sacrosanct and the value of art work can not be questioned if some oligopoly of rich –very rich players happen to be the collectors of the works. The word Provenance is not a mere record of ownership of a pauper Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings it is record of how rich were the persons who once owned the paintings. In New York the art dealers decide in which collector’s collection will go a work of art. They see the ears and hoofs of the collector and whether they are pedigreed blue blood; only then a work of art goes out from them. It helps them to tell the world, look this big billionaire is my client. It is not a poor Dorothy and Herb who lived the asceticism of a Gerard Manley Hopkins and collected art depriving themselves of everything save bare necessities. No wonder, to many galleries they were unwelcome. But they are the William Blakes in art market with aesthetic vision and little care about material depth or width.

For Indian art aficionados the name of Nikhil Bishwas should resurrect an artist par excellance whose art has an emotional intensity bordering on obsession. Like the Blu Reiter group he had intuitive spontaneity in his art. His line and colours evoke Franz Marc. He made drawings on old newspapers with thick daubs of ink he also used packaging paper since it was pretty cheap and he was unable to afford normal art material. Only very late when he started having a little sale of his art works that he could afford to buy colours and canvases. But then suffering like Amedeo Modigliani from tuberculosis he died at 36 years—almost at the same young age that of Italian maestro.

Harkishan Lall was another maverick bohemian artist. Hailing from Ludhiana Punjab he shared his birthday with poet Sahir Ludhianvi who also belonged to the same city. He exhibited in important cities of Europe and won kudos. His style influenced by Ajanta frescoes and Impressionism has a freshness of approach. He died on 6th Sept. 2000 in Kerala. His work have been collected the world over. But in the absence of documentation and critical writings he remains an unsung undervalued maestro.

The problem is curators, galleries, art historians etc. are focussed more on some names and push their prices quite often unreasonably and disproportionately. The millions of dollars that a few artists from India command are signs of an inefficient and at times manipulated market.  The hype or promotion by interested parties always works to artificially create a price that is undeserved. There are a large number of living and gone artists whose works speak for much higher aesthetics, who are ignored by the oligopoly in art market; but then one will have to work seriously and to see and promote their innate value. The art market in India as elsewhere in the world greedily generates monopoly profits for a few while truly high aesthetic creations of many go unsung and often unknown.

In the end the verse I composed—

While I look at a painting I mumble,

How the artist on such beauty stumble,

While everything around him crumble,

His soul in its vision did not fumble.

He Vincent-the Van Gogh lived so humble,

In eternal joys of creativity he did tremble

Viktor Vijay