Notes from a Conversation with Friends Over Wine
- Is contemporary painting necessary for people’s happiness?
We live in an age where needs are artificially constructed. In the modern Western world, most people have their material needs satisfied. This prompts the question: does contemporary art belong to the realm of material necessities or the world of ideas?
For me, painting exists in two realms simultaneously—both material and intellectual-spiritual. It can provide aesthetic pleasure, provoke reflection, transcend literalness, and invite us on a journey where imagination, intellect, and the pursuit of beauty harmoniously converge.
I am convinced that painting is essential to human happiness, though not everyone realizes it.
- The need for beauty? Today it seems irrelevant to art…
For the most part, it no longer exists. Moreover, the pursuit of beauty often leads to kitsch.
This is why it is so difficult today to create something that can be called beautiful without resorting to copying the canons of beauty discovered in previous centuries.
What complicates matters further is the fierce competition posed by rampant commercialization, the blatant deception of art marketing, and the inflated rhetoric of artistic charlatans. This grand deception, this colossal sham that has plagued the art world in the last century, has left audiences indifferent to its creations.
People, deceived by these art-world frauds and the machinery of brand promotion, lose their ability to discern and appreciate the true value of the visual arts.
Personally, when I paint, I seek beauty—an intuitive beauty. I also search for goodness and truth. The essence of art lies in reinterpreting classical ideals within a contemporary aesthetic, contributing something original—something true, good, and beautiful in its own right. Beautiful in composition, harmony, color, and mood. That is my aim, though it’s not always successful. My path is that of a solitary traveler, distanced from the “vanity fair” of the art market circus, where fraud, spectacle, and pretense reign.
- Who are these art-world fraudsters?
I won’t name names, but I will describe the mechanisms. Consider, for example, the institutions and funds that “invest in contemporary art.” The first step is to identify an artist capable of quickly and efficiently churning out large quantities of work. Then, an immense amount of money is funneled into “elevating” the chosen one. With sufficient financial backing, the possibilities are endless—participation in art fairs, magazine features, media exposure, lavishly paid PR campaigns. The absence of clear criteria allows critics to heap praise on even the most trivial scribbles. If it appears in the media, it becomes widely known. The mechanism is identical to that used by corporations to promote unhealthy snack foods, from which they profit handsomely.
- There are also small galleries that promote artists.
Yes, fortunately, a small group of passionate individuals still exists, trying to follow their own judgment and promote artists they believe in. But their challenge is similar to that faced by the artists—people have grown indifferent to contemporary art, for the reasons I have mentioned. Moreover, we are witnessing the erosion of the middle class, which once sustained many artists.
- And what about museums? The cultural role of the state? Government grants?
The cultural role of the state today seems confined to producing propaganda. In the past, we had socialist realism; now we are faced with deconstruction and neo-Marxism. The long march through institutions has culminated in the success of Marxist epigones.
State-run cultural and artistic institutions that distribute grants arbitrarily are a travesty. Frankly, as a taxpayer, I would rather see public funds directed toward the military, police, and healthcare. State funding for art is always intertwined with politics.
I wouldn’t advocate cutting funding for museums that preserve classical art, as maintaining national heritage is a vital role of the state. However, grants for contemporary artists are typically awarded based on political alignment or, more mundanely, on personal connections.
Perhaps small local government grants to support private cultural initiatives might have some merit, but only with high transparency. I’m not convinced that’s possible.
- What are your thoughts on online galleries?
The internet has indeed democratized access to art, allowing for broad distribution and exposure to an enormous range of works. The core issue, however, lies in the difficulty of assessing the quality of a piece solely through a photograph. Online viewing can serve as a preliminary selection process, but if the gallery allows in-person viewings, it simplifies the buying decision. There’s also the problem of sensory overload—after seeing dozens of works, it’s difficult to discern what truly resonates.
- Which forms of promotion are unacceptable to you?
I’m not a fan of offers from so-called “Vanity galleries” that charge 1,000 euros for an exhibition. For 3,000 euros, I could boast of having exhibited in Paris, London, and Milan. While it might sound glamorous, it’s a route I refuse to take.
Perhaps I lack business acumen, but I will not profane art. Paying for people to view my work is humiliating to me as a creator. Similarly, showcasing work in glossy interior design magazines, which charge substantial fees for “articles” about artists, is deceptive. It leads clients to believe that if an artist is featured in magazines, they must be good.
- What is the greatest enemy of painting?
Anything that mimics painting but isn’t truly painting. For instance, the pouring technique has gained popularity in recent years. Many crafters pour specially prepared paints (mixed with a pouring medium) onto a canvas, letting random, abstract forms spread out. Sometimes such pieces can appear intriguing at first glance, but only because for decades critics have celebrated various haphazard abstractions. There’s a widespread misconception that accidental chaos equates to abstraction. This way, a canvas splattered in 20 minutes can become a “painting”—and an affordable one at that.
Another adversary of painting is the rise of printed canvases, sometimes brushed with a few original strokes of paint to give the illusion of a genuine artwork. These may be inexpensive, but they are merely decorative—modern-day oil print . I believe buyers should be fully aware of the technique behind such works. While they might have aesthetic value, they are not unique or one-of-a-kind.
Lastly, the most significant threat to painting is poor painting itself. Within this, we see two opposing aesthetics—kitsch and scribbles. Kitsch sometimes exhibits traces, even a decent degree, of craftsmanship. Scribbles, on the other hand, evade all verification, often imitating genuine painting even more effectively.
There are no clear criteria distinguishing a scribble from a quality abstract or expressionist painting. This ambiguity is exploited by those who, as I like to say, defecate with paint. Smearing color across a canvas is labeled as a creative act, and a herd of bewildered followers won’t dare to question it. With no authentic aesthetic experience, all that remains is the hollow ritual of acknowledgment—no stirring of the heart, no real engagement. Thus begins a slow process of growing indifference toward art.
Sometimes, I jest that the history of painting can be divided into kitsch and scribbles—though, of course, there are always exceptions to the rule.
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