Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Global Art Market? By Valerie Kabov
Yinka Shonibare, Victorian Philanthropist's Parlour, 1996-7, mixed media. From 'Africa Remix' at Johannesburg Art Gallery, 2007. Image courtesy of Johannesburg Art Gallery.
This article appeared in the inaugural September issue of ART AFRICA
magazine, which was launched to enormous enthusiasm at the FNB
JoburgArtFair 2015. You will also be able to read this exclusive content
in the September Digital Issue (FREE app download here for Apple and here for Android).
Yinka Shonibare, Victorian Philanthropist's Parlour, 1996-7, mixed media. From 'Africa Remix' at Johannesburg Art Gallery, 2007. Image courtesy of Johannesburg Art Gallery.
Presently,
the art world finds itself at an interesting juncture. Over the past
decade, the market for art – assisted by exponential advances in
communications and technology – has become an overwhelming force,
actively moving to shape, influence and change the face of contemporary
art on a global scale. To many art world stakeholders, this shift
signifies the end of the world as we know it – and for some, not in a
good way. Interviews, articles and reportages bemoaning the state of the
art market have become a staple of art media.
Concerns
include the commercial nature of art fairs, that artists have been
irrevocably corrupted by the new developments, the closure of more
traditional galleries, the ‘new world’ of galleries where sales and
money are the be-all and end-all and finally, a strong aversion to the
new class of upstart collectors, who see art merely as an asset and who
have been driving prices astronomically by ‘flipping’ the value of works
by emerging artists. While most of these comments are earnest and
reflect real concerns, it is useful to locate them in the context of
broader art history to identify the real (as opposed to perceived)
novelty. In this moment, the market finds synergy with important
movements in art history.
Among
this synergy is the rebalancing of the central and peripheral
relationships in the art world – and building recognition for
underexplored art scenes. The contemporary art scene in Africa is one
such example of this rebalancing. This scene encompasses a particularly
unique set of characteristics, and the manner in which it is approached
and engaged with will determine whether this is truly a historical
moment.
Even the scantiest view to art history will reveal, that the current ‘moment’ is far from novel. The Medicis, who were nouveau riche, consolidated
their power and prestige with art and cultural patronage and commanded
geniuses like Raphael, da Vinci and Michelangelo to do their bidding and
interfere in ways that would seem monstrous today. And yet today we are
thrilled to be mining history thanks to these very interventions.
Superstar artists like Michelangelo and Leonardo were multi-millionaires
in their time, traveling Europe on mega-commissions, wined and dined by
the mighty of the world. Rembrandt, a saintly figure in the art canon,
authorised his apprentices to paint his ‘self-portrait’ as a form of
branding and advertising. In late 19th century Paris, Daniel Kahnweiler,
another nouveau riche, began buying work in bulk for resale from artists he figured might have a future – Picasso, Cezanne and Matisse. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose (‘The more things change, the more they stay the same.’)
There
is, however, a historically significant shift that many are missing in
their self-righteous protestations of ‘too much too-new money ruining
art’ – that some of this market power really does come from new money.
This is a major paradigm shift, because part of the self-titled ‘old
guard’s discomfort is that the new money and new movements in the art
world are shifting the centers of the art world beyond Paris, London and
New York. That this new money punts and supports artists not from the
West attests to lasting change in visual culture and its paradigms.
Increasingly, artists and art sectors outside of the West are gaining
exposure and recognition. Could it then be posited that they too are the
‘products’ of rampant globalisation, new money and the horror of art
fairs?
If
the market – by way of being the only mechanism with which to leverage
valuable opportunities – is devoid of a moral compass, then it must be
the responsibility of the historians, critics, curators and academics in
(and interacting with) the sector, to maintain and preserve a sense of
morality. The emergence of the contemporary art sector in Africa on the
global stage is a case study of and an experiment in the symbiotic
relationship between market and academia. As Mark Coetzee asserted in a
panel discussion at this year’s Art Basel, “African art is currently in
fashion.”1 African curators and academics have been building
the foundations for engaging with the international art community for
decades, confirming and validating the current opportunity. This
groundwork comprises noteworthy exhibitions such as ‘Art from the
Commonwealth’ in 1962 to ‘Magiciens de la Terre’ in 1989 and ‘Africa Remix’ in 2004, publications such as Nka Magazine and Revue Noire, initiatives
like the Triangle Network, galleries like October Gallery and many
other art professionals, curators, writers, historians and gallerists
who have worked hard to advance the cause of art and artists on the
continent.
However,
as Coetzee also correctly pointed out, fashions come and go with
predictable, and somewhat disappointing, regularity. So for now, while
euphoria and optimism rule in African contemporary art, we need to make a
sober analysis of what this present moment means and what is required
of us to engender vibrant and successful art sectors.
This
is a complex question with difficult answers as there are a number of
crucial factors differentiating the spotlight on Africa from others and
which can characterise its aftermath.
One
of these factors is that – unlike most other art scenes touched upon by
the global largess, such as Brazil, India, China and the Middle East –
Africa (with the few exceptions of South Africa, Nigeria and Angola)
does not have supportive domestic markets for contemporary art. The new
money in the aforementioned foreign art markets comes from within – and
is used to support and attract attention to their national art scene.
When the prices for the (then) fad of Chinese contemporary art dropped
and the temporary art market bubble burst circa 2008, an interesting
thing happened – the prices dropped substantially only for those artists
favoured by Western collectors. The prices for artists supported by
local collectors remained stable, allowing for the rebuilding of the
Chinese contemporary market, now a dominant sector in the art world only
a few years later.
The
same cannot be said about Africa. It isn’t an unrealistic assessment
that African contemporary art is still largely supported by old money –
or to put it another way – not enough of it is supported by new money.
This lack of support is exacerbated by inadequate art infrastructure on
the continent. These gaps in infrastructure have already created, and
continue to contribute to, a talent and resource drain – not to mention
that as a result many African contemporary art masterpieces will be lost
to local audiences. Another vulnerability is that the global spotlight,
with few notable exceptions, has been on emerging or young artists.
While this focus on emerging artists is a global phenomenon, in the
African context it is uniquely problematic – given the disparities in
market and infrastructure outlined above.
Often,
young artists move away from Africa in pursuit of educational and
career opportunities. This relocation affects generational mentorship
and local systems of support, as well as their own practice, which has
to be reshaped in relation to a new context and the assumption of a new
identity. Back in Africa, foreign galleries who sign African artists
inevitably contribute to the drain on local talent and general economy,
as the profits and commissions of their sales are circulated abroad.
Significantly, without support systems at home or experience of
international markets, young artists are more likely to be negatively
impacted by market pressures and the related exploitative practices.
Concurrently,
there are also gifted artists outside of the ‘golden youth’ spectrum
who have simply been overshadowed in the market juggernaut. These
artists may then feel helpless and hopeless in a way that their peers in
countries with stable art economies and a culture of collecting do not.
In an effort to build strong cultural identities – without which the
emerging generation can only default to foreign learning and achievement
– it is crucial that we recognise the broader context in which art
develops and emerges. It is more than likely that the global market
will, in due course, view mature artists in the West as yet another
under-valued opportunity. However, when the global market reaches this
realisation, it will have been neatly prepared for it by decades of
institutional and academic support, along with substantial bodies of
work. The African peers of such artists, who are currently in the
shadows and bereft of institutional attention and publishing validation,
could be left behind. This problem is not reserved only for the artists
or the history of art in Africa.
Rather,
it is a collective concern for global art history – the effort to shift
the nexus cannot be the responsibility and product of one generation.
It
is highly unlikely that there will be sufficient time to address these
issues with market and infrastructure by the time the fashion moves on
to wherever it will (if this year’s Havana Biennale is anything to go
on). While Western galleries, who have turned to representing African
artists, are able shift focus by taking on artists from whatever scene
is next in vogue, galleries and artists on the continent can be left
vulnerable.
Looking
to history as a predictor, we could surmise that the countries on the
continent with the strongest markets and infrastructure, who have
already taken the lead in building private and public collections, will
forge ahead in carving out their own niche in the global scene – leaving
the rest to fend for themselves. And yet this is not the
paradigm shift that so many have worked tirelessly to achieve. While for
now ‘African Contemporary Art’ is a useful marketing term to those of
us working in the field, it speaks to a broader vision and ethos of
brotherhood on the continent, an ambition that supersedes mere market
concerns.
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Although it may seem shocking to watch the 112th Congress, there was a time when national leaders were swift and decisive in getting things done. In November 1910, in the space of less than two weeks, a group of government and business leaders fashioned a powerful new financial system that has survived a century, two world wars, a Great Depression and many recessions.
Of course, the Jekyll Island conference, which met that month, was dodgy even by the standards of the Gilded Age: a self-selected handful of plutocrats secretly meeting at a private resort island to draw up a new framework for the nation’s banking system. Add in the gnarly live oaks and dripping Spanish moss of coastal Georgia, and the baronial becomes baroque.
The group's original plan wasn't ratified by Congress, but one very much like it was adopted and became the basis of the Federal Reserve system that remains in place today.
At the time, the Panic of 1907 was still fresh in everyone’s mind. J.P. Morgan had resolved that panic by locking the heads of major banks in his library overnight, and strong-arming them into a deal to provide sufficient liquidity to end the runs on banks and brokerages.
No one was happy with that expediency, and in 1908 Congress passed the Aldrich-Vreeland Act, which formed the National Monetary Commission. Senator Nelson Aldrich, a Rhode Island Republican and sponsor of the act, embarked on a fact-finding mission to Europe, where he met with government ministers and bankers.
The panic had shown that the existing financial system, founded on government bonds, was brittle and ponderous. But, although voters were eager for a more robust and responsive system, there was no support at the time for a central bank either from the public or from industrialists. Both were suspicious of such government interference.
The Jekyll Island collaborators knew that public reports of their meeting would scupper their plans. The idea of senior officials from the Treasury, Congress, major banks and brokerages (along with one foreign national) slipping off to design a new world order has struck generations of Americans as distasteful at best and undemocratic at worst -- and would have been similarly received at the time. So the meeting of the minds was planned under the ruse of a gentlemen’s duck-hunting expedition.
Aldrich, an archetype of his age, was a personal friend of Morgan, and Aldrich's daughter was married to John D. Rockefeller Jr. He found in the European central banks a useful model. Although the financial system in the U.S. was functional enough to stoke the engines of a growing industrial economy, it was a classic example of the persistence of interim solutions. The models Aldrich found in Europe were more efficient and effective.
What he lacked was a way to graft those characteristics onto the American economy without retarding it. Hence the duck hunt.
Aldrich invited men he knew and trusted, or at least men of influence who he felt could work together. They included Abram Piatt Andrew, assistant secretary of the Treasury; Henry P. Davison, a business partner of Morgan's; Charles D. Norton, president of the First National Bank of New York; Benjamin Strong, another Morgan friend and the head of Bankers Trust; Frank A. Vanderlip, president of the National City Bank; and Paul M. Warburg, a partner in Kuhn, Loeb & Co. and a German citizen. The men made their way to the island by private railway car and ferry.
In Vanderlip, Aldrich had found the tactician to design a functional American central bank. Vanderlip was born a farm boy in Aurora, Illinois, put himself through college, and worked his way up the Chicago financial ladder. He became personal assistant to Treasury Secretary Lyman Gage, and in 1898 made his mark managing loans to the government to finance the Spanish-American War.
As Bertie Charles Forbes related in his 1916 book, "Men Who Are Making America":
That was exactly the kind of perspicacity Aldrich was seeking. The collaborators spent 10 days on Jekyll Island. What emerged was an idea for something called the National Reserve Association, which would act as a central bank, issuing currency and holding member banks’ reserves. While it would handle government debt, it would be a private institution. The U.S. Treasury would have a seat on the board, but would exercise no further oversight.
The reserve association was brought to Congress as the "Aldrich plan," and it got nowhere. There was opposition in both parties, from populist William Jennings Bryan, a Nebraska Democrat, to progressive Robert La Follette, a Wisconsin Republican.
Woodrow Wilson ran for president opposed to the bankers’ club but committed to financial reform. There followed a blizzard of proposals from every part of the political spectrum. Eventually, Carter Glass, a Virginia Democrat and the chairman of the House banking committee, drafted what would become the Federal Reserve Act with the help of Robert Latham Owen, an Oklahoma Democrat. The act became law at the end of 1913.
Although the Glass-Owen bill was a compromise, the core of the Aldrich plan remained. There were many minor detail changes from the Jekyll Island accords, but the major one was a more prominent role given to the Treasury. (To this day the debate continues as to whether the Fed is truly independent, or should be.) Benjamin Strong, one of the Jekyll Island cohorts, became the first president of the New York Federal Reserve in 1914.
Today, a central bank is the global standard. All 187 members of the International Monetary Fund have them. In November 2010, Fed Chairman Ben S. Bernanke held a press conference on Jekyll Island to celebrate the centennial of the meeting. Aldrich and his colleagues would have been proud of their accomplishment -- but mortified by the publicity.
(Gregory DL Morris is a member of the editorial board of the Museum of American Finance, a Smithsonian affiliate, and a contributor to the Echoes blog. The opinions expressed are his own.)
To read more from Echoes, Bloomberg View's economic history blog, click here.
To contact the writer of this post: Gregory Morris at gdlmorris@hotmail.com.