ART AND POWER IN THE DIGITAL AGE
Let’s dive into the world of art. Recently, we have explored business, travel, political history, and technology. Now it is time to shift our focus back to art. The book we are discussing is “Takedown: Art and Power in the Digital Age” (*) by Farah Nayeri. In her book, the author examines the latest developments in the art world, particularly around inclusivity and its contradictions. Farah Nayeri, an Iranian-born journalist, started her journalism career as a correspondent for Time magazine in Paris, with contributions to The Wall Street Journal as well. You might recall a similar perspective from my previous article on art and women. https://muratulker.com/kadin-ressamlarin-en-buyuk-sorunu-nedir/
(*) Nayeri, F. (2022). Takedown: Art and Power in the Digital Age. Astra Publishing House.
Farah Nayeri opens with the statement, “Art is power.” Art has always had an extraordinary ability to evoke human emotions. Because of its unique influence on humanity, it has often been viewed with suspicion by those in power. These power figures have historically been kings and courtiers, popes and cardinals, dictators, and their sycophants. Throughout history, instead of relying on their power, they have monitored, controlled, censored, and suppressed art and artists to prevent social upheaval. However, today, artists in the West have finally broken free from the chains of crowns and courts, churches and clergy, and one-party tyrannies. Their works are no longer subject to the censorship or condemnation of those in positions of official authority. Instead, artists are increasingly held accountable by citizens and voters as individuals. As liberal democracy has taken root in the West, the voices of the people have grown louder. These voices are demanding equality for those who have historically faced discrimination and oppression—women, ethnic minorities, and colonized peoples.
According to Nayeri, social movements over the past decade, such as MeToo and Black Lives Matter in the U.S., have been undeniable catalysts for change within the art world. The concept of inclusivity has not only gained traction but has become widely embraced.
Today, our world is home to an estimated 7.8 billion people, with roughly 3.9 billion—half of them—being women. Yet, women are still far from having an equal place in the world of art and museums.
In the West, while most professions have seen women break through barriers and achieve near gender parity—or even lead in some fields—female artists still struggle with being overlooked. Likewise, within the widely practiced Christianity in the West, women have historically had little to no role in the church, except for the Virgin Mary.
The narrative that female artists are “not good enough” persists. Why is this the case? It might be because the feminist movements and their upheavals haven’t brought about the visible changes anticipated, or perhaps because some militant feminists have become disillusioned. Women in the art and museum sectors are acutely aware of the numerical dominance of men but struggle to fully grasp the depth of this inequality, often finding themselves sidelined. Observing this, Nayeri, as a journalist, has increasingly brought gender issues to the forefront over the past decade.
Currently, museums, galleries, and curators aspire to be seen as champions of inclusivity. The art world has been undergoing a dramatic and radical transformation over the past few decades. Driven by the proliferation of international biennials and the emergence of new art centers across all continents, art has become more widespread worldwide, with social media playing a key role in this cultural “mini-revolution.” Farah Nayeri demonstrates how, in the digital age, women and long-underrepresented minorities have finally claimed their seats at the table and, at times, even a voice. Through personal exhibitions, they can now step through the doors of major museums, even if they haven’t found their place in art history textbooks yet.
There is always been a special place for women—as subjects of men’s art. The author mentions that in any art history textbook, you will find countless depictions of naked women, the artistic equivalent of Playboy centerfolds from the past. This was because men treated women not as contributors to the creative process but as the raw material for their work. However, in today’s postfeminist MeToo era, where we see adult men held accountable for their abuse of women, there is a growing awareness that a painting inappropriately depicting an underage girl can understandably provoke significant unease. While society has become significantly less tolerant of art featuring children or underage models, it has grown much more accepting of artworks depicting consensual sexuality between adults.
When a woman appears nude in a work of art, it is often assumed to be her choice. However, many female artists prefer not to portray themselves in the nude.
From this perspective, has art become freer and more limitless than ever? We are in the midst of a mental revolution, yet when it comes to showcasing non-white artists, it’s still the same old story!
Admittedly, there have been moments in recent history when Black artists received special attention. According to the author, what distinguishes this moment is the inclusion of these artists in museum collections, the hosting of major solo exhibitions, and the critical acclaim they are receiving from leading reviewers.
One of the most important things digital communication has achieved during this period is holding museums, art institutions, and their leaders accountable. These institutions, entrusted with serving the well-being of society, are also the custodians of priceless collections. Thanks to increasing media and activist attention, the public is now much more aware of the sponsors and directors of major museums, the sources of their funding, and how it is used. There is growing public pressure for this money to be both ethically and morally clean.
As the book points out, this is an entirely new phenomenon. Until the global financial crisis of 2008, museum directors readily accepted large checks from billionaires without questioning the source of the wealth. In those days, when lavish museum expansions led by famous architects were underway, every donation was accepted with gratitude. Sometimes, the largest donor’s name would even be engraved on the building itself.
According to the book, the era of unchecked extravagance ended when we got through a prolonged and deadly pandemic, transitioning into a time of austerity. Now, we expect a focus on three things: Equality, Ethics, and Ecology.
Running today’s Western museums is incredibly expensive. Even maintaining their permanent collections is a labor-intensive and challenging task. According to the book, a well-functioning art museum in the West requires an annual budget of $100 to $200 million. In Europe, much of this budget comes from governments, meaning from taxpayers. U.S. museums, on the other hand, are primarily privately funded and sustained by donations, with philanthropy being the main business model. Institutions are becoming increasingly dependent on donations from wealthy benefactors. In Europe, this funding is more crucial than ever, as governments grappling with budget deficits and public debt are cutting cultural spending.
However, in this age of review and accountability, while not shouted from the rooftops through social media, questions like “Where does the money come from? How was it earned?” are increasingly asked. Many museum visitors, as taxpayers supporting these institutions, are increasingly vocal in demanding that museum funding be ethically and cleanly earned. However, these funds often come with conditions. Donors may influence a museum in several ways.
Briefly stated, although it is important to expose unethical or “polluting” corporate sponsors, sponsorship remains a vital source of funding for the arts.
In today’s art scene, where morality often decides “who can create what” and “who gets to speak,” the author notes that sometimes artists who don’t quite deserve the spotlight end up making headlines. Meanwhile, sellers, auctioneers, and collectors might put on a show of diversity, trying to look progressive in a flashy way.
Lydia Yee, the chief curator at *Whitechapel* (1), points out that museums and galleries need to embrace risks, and not every piece of art is going to stand the test of time. Looking at past decades’ editions of *Artforum* (2), you will find yourself asking, “Who was on the cover?” Some artists will have enduring careers, while others won’t. Refik Anadol, our pioneering digital artist, set a notable example when MoMA welcomed his work.
According to the author, one of the frequent occurrences of our era is the social media takedown of artworks and exhibitions. White artists are criticized for depicting Black subjects or reflecting the pain of Native Americans. Their works are threatened with destruction or even wiped out. Exhibitions containing even a single controversial artwork are shut down as soon as they open. Outdoor sculptures are vandalized.
Inside museums and galleries, the everyday behavior of those at the top is criticized on private Instagram accounts for offensive remarks and actions, whether anonymously or not. People in high-level positions lose their jobs due to statements that later echo online. Many of the executives targeted by these posts probably deserve it. But what about those who don’t?
Suzanne Nossel, the CEO of PEN America, captures this dilemma perfectly in her book *Dare to Speak* (3). She mentions that online criticism can arise from offensive comments, inappropriate remarks, or misinformation, and this criticism can be either positive or negative.
The author notes that on the plus side, we are now accountable to everyone who hears or reads what we say. On the flip side, this can lead to toxic and censorious results, as accusations can spread and lead to punishments that far exceed the original offense. Since these punishments are public and online, they can be even more intense.
The book describes how public squares across the Western world are filled with statues, monuments, and murals celebrating and glorifying those who were either in power or supported those in power. Isn’t it fascinating to consider this contrast with our situation?
These are monuments to great leaders, and heroes, tributes to distinguished thinkers and scientists, or memorials to those who died in war. They are designed to glorify what is deemed great and good, as defined by the powerful and victorious. This traditional form of public art, by definition, is not democratic, because citizens have no say in who or what is displayed on pedestals scattered throughout their cities! Until the post-war period, public art was public only in name. It was created for the people, but without their approval, and was it even aligned with their needs and desires? The artists behind these works were selected by rulers and governments, and the artworks themselves served as elevated propaganda. They were designed to increase patriotism, elevate national pride, praise the courage and strength of leadership, and justify the sacrifices of soldiers on the battlefield.
In the post-war years, as Western societies became increasingly democratic, governments began to pay more attention to the desires of the audience of public art—namely, ordinary citizens. Contemporary artists were commissioned to create outdoor sculptures with aesthetic and cultural value. From the 1960s onwards, works by artists like Moore, Calder, and Picasso (4) began to proliferate in city centers and business districts, bringing color and freshness to urban landscapes and introducing citizens to contemporary sculpture forms. Over time, younger and less well-known contemporary artists were commissioned to produce public monuments.
The author underscores how power and influence continue to be predominantly in the hands of white men. A change of guard is overdue, but how long will it take for that to happen?
The democratization of art and the expansion of museums have increased public access to artists’ works. You no longer need to hold a high position to view a piece of art up close: experiencing art has become as accessible as reading a book or watching a movie. Museums attract millions of visitors annually, with the Louvre alone drawing in ten million. Millions more engage with art through online platforms. Museums, which once relied on journalists and publishers to spread their messages, can now communicate directly and digitally with their audience. This became a significant advantage during the COVID-19 era when parents stuck at home could take their children on virtual tours of the world’s greatest art institutions. With museums maintaining a strong social media presence, audiences can instantly start conversations with and about museums by using popular and widely followed hashtags, and when reactions are positive, it becomes a win-win for the institution. Daniel Birnbaum, one of Europe’s leading curators and senior museum directors, stated in an interview with the author: “Social media is a tremendous accelerator and amplifier. In this new populist culture of social media, you are often either on the right side or the wrong; you’re either the villain or the hero.”
We live in a democratic and digital age. Together, these forces give citizens more voice than ever before to denounce longstanding injustices, inequalities, and discrimination in society. This outspokenness and activism have now reached the world of art as well. But what should be the limits of individuals’ power over art, and who has the right to define them? Or, simply, what is good? Who will decide?
References
(1) https://www.whitechapelgallery.org/
(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artforum
(3) https://www.amazon.com/Dare-Speak-Defending-Free-Speech/
(4) https://www.istanbulsanatevi.com/sanatcilar/soyadi-m/moore-albert-joseph/albert-joseph-moore-hayati-ve-eserleri/; https://tr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Calder; https://tr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Picasso
Note: This open-source article does not require copyright and can be quoted by citing the author.
