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"I take my pictures in the funkiest places," my daughter said.
"Well, it makes sense. We live in Boyle Heights, not in Malibu. And we've never pretended that we're anything except who we are. No shots in front of private jets, or Ferraris."
"Why do people do that, anyway? Trying to pretend they have more money than they have."
"I know. Even artists. Standing in front of some big canvas tacked to the wall. Costing an arm and a leg. You never meet painters who want to lower their prices. As a goal. Not one."
Could that be part of the problem with contemporary art? It's always too expensive. People refuse to walk into galleries. They hate them. Or feel they aren't welcome if they just want to browse. Just planning to stare at the work. I get it. I understand the viewpoint of the Man in the Street. There's something snotty about selling art. It's not like selling tacos, or sandals.
Snob appeal has some good periods, and also some bad spells. I think we're entering a rough stretch for a haughty, overpriced, style. It might not be the best time. But don't imagine it'll ever die out. The rich will always be with us.
