There’s a fascinating (and frustrating) article in the New York Times today that serves to illuminate one of the most complex issues in the art world: art valuation. And it’s not only a complex issue, it’s also contentious since many art lovers bristle at the idea of viewing art as a commodity whose value is measured in filthy lucre rather than in terms of inspiration, innovation, aesthetic heft, or emotional depth. My own position is more nuanced. 

I have never purchased a piece of art as an investment, but, during tight financial periods, I have contemplated what pieces I could sell and for what price. This is a painful thought for me.

Yet is it also unfair to assume an artist should not desire economic success? Or deride those who achieve it? We all, to some degree, still romanticize the idea of the starving artist as the repository of aesthetic genius, as the keeper of society’s artistic sole. And once the artist dies an early death from an easily curable disease, collectors rush in to buy all her works for a song and then resell them for millions. That scenario somehow fits our cultural narrative, but the idea of a healthy artist making money (maybe a lot) from his work in his lifetime makes us feel dirty.

Ultimately though, multi-million dollar art sells – no matter who’s doing the selling – tap into feelings of insecurity about our own artistic judgement. We think, “If this painting that I find hideous sold for $100 million, then maybe I don’t know anything about art. Maybe I don’t even like ‘real’ art.” Instead we should merely view it as what it is: someone felt that that painting was worth $100 million. Period. Nothing else to be said in terms of what the market value of the painting is.

However, plenty can still be said about the true value of the work in the ways that matter to those who love art. Does it make me feel something? Anger, sadness, lightness, anxiety? Does it make me laugh? Smile? Cry? Does it make me cringe? Look away? Is it mesmerizing? Intoxicating? Intriguing? Ist it infused with light? Darkness? Life? Does it make me feel more alive?

That IS art. And that’s all that should truly matter.