As artists, we dedicate ourselves to the act of creation, an act that is deeply personal yet intended to communicate and connect with the world. Over the years, I’ve observed a curious trend in our community—the designation of oneself as a "Fine Artist" on business cards or in bios. While I understand the desire for clarity or prestige, I question the need for such labels. Isn’t all art, by nature, "fine"? Whether we work with oil paints, textiles, or scraps from yesterday’s newspaper, the value of the work should speak for itself. The term "Fine Artist" can sometimes come across as an attempt to create distance, a barrier between the creator and the community, which undermines the inclusive spirit of art itself.
Another aspect that I find troubling is the reluctance of some artists to exhibit their work in non-traditional venues, such as elder communities or libraries. These spaces, often seen as “lesser,” are actually vibrant places full of life, curiosity, and engagement. Art doesn’t exist to sit in ivory towers; it’s meant to reach people where they are. By refusing to share our work with diverse audiences, we not only limit our own opportunities for growth but also deny the chance to inspire others, who may find these settings more accessible and welcoming than traditional galleries.
I believe that these tendencies stem from a form of hubris, a need to assert status rather than focus on the purpose of art itself. Instead of worrying about titles or prestigious venues, let’s concentrate on creating work that resonates, no matter where it’s seen or by whom. We should embrace the idea that every venue—whether an elder community or a high-end gallery—is an opportunity for connection and impact. True art transcends labels and locations; it lives in the hearts and minds of those who engage with it.
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