Forced Vulnerability in Modern Art
Vulnerability in art has rightfully been praised for being a brave and courageous act an artist can do. To show their emotions, experiences, identity, and life though their work is not only extremely difficult but also tenacious and fearless. Some of the world’s most respected art and artists showcase vulnerability. Frida Kahlo, Edvard Munch, and Vincent Van Gogh are some of the famous painters who all have shown vulnerability. Because of their vulnerability, they were able to connect with so many people and solidify themselves as world-famous artists. Painters, sculptors, musicians, writers, textile artists, and every other artist faces the vulnerability dilemma. What happens when vulnerability becomes a requirement for an artist and not a means to express themselves?
What the Water Gave Me painted by Frida Kahlo in 1938 with oil.
Modern art is shown, promoted, and celebrated differently today. With most modern artists on social media trying to attract likes and followers, the pressure on the artist has changed. Galleries see how big a following an artist has before deciding how much space they are granted, news publications post reviews on artists with solid fanbases, and wealthy people want to own an art piece by someone who their friends will recognize. These artists who are vulnerable are not the issue; it’s the people who expect it who are.
The private art collector who buys art from underepresented groups to hold a staus of caring, with the utter lack of actual care. Instead, to flaunt and brag to collegues about their patronage. These are some of the people who demand vulnerability from artists.
I bring the conversation of vulnerability to the table because I have been interested in art for a long time and consider myself a small artist. While studying for my degree, I came across several artists and designers. All have great advice and wonderful ideas. In addition to this, I noticed the biggest piece of advice wasn’t about my artwork or skills, but my social media presence. Instagram was the most talked about social media platform not just throughout my program but also among any other artists I spoke with from other mediums. As someone who despises social media and most of all, anything owned by Meta, I always hated when the topic of Instagram came up. I have heard so many stories of artists being discovered through Instagram and changing their lives, but I have such a distaste for it. It feels superficial and performative in the worst way possible, to make others feel bad about themselves. I’m all for the performance of life but not when it’s to belittle others.
I realized the most successful artists and the ones who broke through from the part-time artists gig into the full-time artist, who can fully support themselves off their art, had a significant amount of vulnerability engrained within their work. Being a student, I was told this is good. Art about identity and politics often become more popular than art that is not. Yoko Ono is a million times more likely to be asked to do a show than another popular performance artist, and not just because she was married to a Beatle. Political art shows are talked about more than non-political ones. The most vulnerable art pieces are shared online the most. None of this is the artist’s fault. We have gotten too comfortable on social media demanding full transparency. For example, a queer artist will never be considered an artist, but a queer artist. While for some artists this is a means for them to express themselves and celebrate community, this should not be forced onto every artist who is queer. On the contrary, pieces made by queer artists which don’t fit into what it means to be “stereotypically” queer are often ridiculed or diminished by their very own community. Like if I don’t make a puppet that looks like a vagina, then I’m not a lesbian. As funny as it sounds, there is a lot of truth in the sentiment.
Prisoners' Round (after Gustave Doré) painted with oil on canvas by Vincent Van Gogh while at Saint-Paul Asylum in 1890. Inspired by an engraving originally done by Gustave Doré.
I have been suggested directly and indirectly that my art should resonate more with my personal identity being a lesbian woman and my personal experiences. However, my identity is not for sale. I will not be forced into making art about my personal life because more people will like it, and someone might even buy it. This is not art; this is being an influencer. Frida Kahlo did not paint her portraits because she thought everyone would praise and love them, she did it to express herself. Vincent Van Gogh did not paint while he was institutionalized because he thought millions of people would see his paintings throughout history, he did it for himself. If we are to take inspiration from the world’s most famous artists, then we should take authenticity as the inspiration.
“Vulnerability is not oversharing. It’s sharing with people who have earned the right to hear our story.” ~Brené Brown
When I criticize people pressuring artists into making art about their identity or about politics, I am not critiquing artists who partake on their own volition or artists who make political statements separately from their art. I am simply talking about what it is like to be a small artist in our Instagram, doomscroll, gatekeep, oversharing, TikTok world. Artists do not owe people their personal trauma, stories, or identity. I do not have to share anything about my life unless I want to. There once was a time when pressuring people to do so was rude, a time before Mark Zuckerberg. Sometimes a painting of daily life, nature, or anything inspiring is enough.