Californian artist John Baldessari used to say that finding his gallery owner selling his works at an art fair was as uncomfortable as surprising parents making love. There are things that we know happen, such as parents having sex or that art becomes merchandise with astonishing ease , but it is better to play dumb or look the other way. The problem is that then Arco, Art Basel and the other fairs arrive and it is impossible to hide. There, in the foreground and in a somewhat pornographic manner, is revealed what the world of culture prefers to hide: the footprint of money, the relevance of money, the omnipotence of money .

Perhaps the dreams of purity no longer take the sleep of too many artists, at least the successful ones who have managed to become entrepreneurs of themselves and negotiate their projects before committees of local politicians or international curators with equal ease. Even so, it is uncomfortable, even counterproductive, to accept that the engine of artistic activity is economic profit and not a superior purpose. Culture always gained legitimacy by appealing to its critical, analytical or revolutionary power , and that is still valid. Today we must denounce global warming or vindicate the victims; it is what the prevailing political correctness demands.

That is why at the fairs the artist prefers to make only one cameo while assembling his pieces and then disappear. The actor who instead seeks a close-up in which he can show how well endowed he is is the collector, that VIP guest who has access to all parties and hidden stands where French champagne is served. He comes to his own: to show financial muscle and enjoy this new form of tourism, the cultural one, which is largely the reason why fairs and festivals of art, literature and other arts flourish all over the world.

And it is that these fairs, thus they become media events - even populacheros - thanks to the fool of the day that makes a work on Franco or any other bobalicona provocation , are not for the normal public. They are designed and designed to facilitate the fruitful encounter between the collector and the gallery owner, the real stars that heat the temperature to boil and burn a world that needs the permanent media interest and social glare.

That effervescence makes the art world supremely unstable. There are no fixed rules, no objective criteria, no pre-established aesthetic values, and the boss is not the one with the most cultural background, more sophistication or more academic degrees accumulates. Mandates the one who imposes his criterion somewhat sharply, perhaps advised by some advisor , or consultant, or curator , or better yet, by an influential young curator , and works accordingly. That is to say, the one who says that something is good is sent and demonstrates it by taking out the credit card and paying what is needed in order to take the piece. Amid the indeterminacy that governs the world of contemporary art , the only reality, the only thing that imposes an unquestionable judgment, is money.

All this has something obscene and irritating and caricaturing, no doubt, but it is also true that today, when more books are produced, more works of art, more films and more cultural content than ever in the history of mankind, Fairs, biennials and festivals are the best way we have found for art fields to capture the attention of the public, open space in the calendar and survive in the tumultuous market economy .

Those of us who move in these fiefdoms have lost purity. We can no longer pretend that we ignore that our parents fuck or that we depend on oiled cultural industries, hopefully well boiling and very hot, to be able to continue writing, filming or fighting the evils of humanity with works of art. No cultural product escapes its commercial destination . Its meaning may not be exhausted in the economic transaction; It may even convey ideas, affect sensitivities or infect temperaments with passions and desires, but today the mediator of this process is the market.

The times when the creator overwhelmed the public with his talent without paying tolls to capitalism are over. There are no more revolutionaries, only actors who play the revolution to better mediate in the cultural fields. And yes, it is difficult not to feel a certain romantic nostalgia for those pure times in which it was less important what was collected in sales than the ability to alleviate desires and emotions. But it is also true that those days left us with terrible political drives and dozens of dead poets in the Latin American guerrillas.

So this is what we have left, Arco, Art Basel, Frieze, events as unnerving as necessary, as frivolous as important , that summarize well the contemporary negotiation that takes place between capitalism and culture. That is, between the superficial market and the deepest veins of human talent

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