Black Bucket Essays
Volume 2, Issue 1
“The value of art is in the observer."
- Agnes Martin
Mike Dax Iacovone
I think the statement itself is subverting the conversation about monetary value, which is a dead-end question
that artists have to field all too often in an attempt to justify career choices to people who miss the point or
choose to look past it. There simply is almost no money in art. It’s not impossible to make a living off of art,
but it’s improbable, difficult, and filthy.
So to steer away from that end of the conversation, I believe what Martin was referencing is that once the art is
made, and put out, the value an observer can get is beyond the artists control. The observer will take or leave
anything they want from the experience it may be instantly forgotten, or maybe it will linger for a bit, or
maybe if things go well the experience will stick with the observer for an indefinite amount of time - there’s
simply no way to tell. The artist can hope, and imagine observers gaining value, but there’s little else the artist
can do at that point.
So I do agree with her statement fundamentally, however, her statement places the burden of value completely
on the observer, obfuscating the value the artist gleaned from the experience, and I think that’s a disservice to
the artist. Speaking for myself, if I didn’t derive value from creating art, I wouldn’t be creating art. Art is
hard. It’s expensive to make, it takes up a lot of time, and thought and consideration. There are far more
failures than successes. It can be a burden, it can be a motivator, it can be exciting, and exhausting, and
thrilling and depressing. And it is all of those things at the same time, but that’s where I get the value from.
That’s why I keep doing it. It’s valuable to me. But that value that I speak of, the value I gain from making
art, is mine and mine alone. I don’t know that I could ever really explain that value to someone, and anytime
I’ve tried has proven fruitless. People want to believe it’s whimsical, and there are epiphanies, and
enlightening awestruck moments of joy, but that’s not how it is with me, that’s just how they want to see it.
Maybe they’re trying to see that value from my point of view. I doubt it’s possible. It’s a lot easier to just tell
them the value is in the observer.
Volume 2, Issue 1
“The value of art is in the observer."
- Agnes Martin
Mike Dax Iacovone
I think the statement itself is subverting the conversation about monetary value, which is a dead-end question
that artists have to field all too often in an attempt to justify career choices to people who miss the point or
choose to look past it. There simply is almost no money in art. It’s not impossible to make a living off of art,
but it’s improbable, difficult, and filthy.
So to steer away from that end of the conversation, I believe what Martin was referencing is that once the art is
made, and put out, the value an observer can get is beyond the artists control. The observer will take or leave
anything they want from the experience it may be instantly forgotten, or maybe it will linger for a bit, or
maybe if things go well the experience will stick with the observer for an indefinite amount of time - there’s
simply no way to tell. The artist can hope, and imagine observers gaining value, but there’s little else the artist
can do at that point.
So I do agree with her statement fundamentally, however, her statement places the burden of value completely
on the observer, obfuscating the value the artist gleaned from the experience, and I think that’s a disservice to
the artist. Speaking for myself, if I didn’t derive value from creating art, I wouldn’t be creating art. Art is
hard. It’s expensive to make, it takes up a lot of time, and thought and consideration. There are far more
failures than successes. It can be a burden, it can be a motivator, it can be exciting, and exhausting, and
thrilling and depressing. And it is all of those things at the same time, but that’s where I get the value from.
That’s why I keep doing it. It’s valuable to me. But that value that I speak of, the value I gain from making
art, is mine and mine alone. I don’t know that I could ever really explain that value to someone, and anytime
I’ve tried has proven fruitless. People want to believe it’s whimsical, and there are epiphanies, and
enlightening awestruck moments of joy, but that’s not how it is with me, that’s just how they want to see it.
Maybe they’re trying to see that value from my point of view. I doubt it’s possible. It’s a lot easier to just tell
them the value is in the observer.
