Who gets to call it art - the market?

ARTWALK

It's apt this fortnight to recall a recent documentary film about the sixties art scene in New York and the role of Met curator Henry Geldzahler.

This film, Who Gets To Call It Art?, is bursting with footage and interviews. Characters swing in and out, almost becoming familiar faces if they are not already, as they talk about Geldzahler.

For many, Geldzahler is important because of the pathbreaking show he held at the Met. This was "New York Painting and Sculpture; 1940-1970".

The artists then included Frank Stella, David Hockney, James Rosenquist, Andy Warhol, amongst others. From the film, it becomes apparent that the artists valued Geldzahler differently because of their own personal, frequent interactions with him and the fact that he was pretty much an insider.

That is what makes the film, otherwise patchy and periodically incoherent, interesting as well. There's even a Warhol film clip of Geldzahler, all podgy and almost geeky, his cigar in his mouth.

Interviews reveal the curator's personality "" eccentric, abrasive and irreverent "" but builds up a cult ambience through its own style of cinematography. In that way, it reinforces the idea of Geldzahler continuously, cleverly creating a larger-than-life phenomenon.

Well, almost. Fortunately, the film's glibness in parts "" many parts "" finally comes to the rescue. We use this glibness to interrogate the content and ask how Geldzaher gets to be projected as the main arbitrator of the aesthetic.

So, why is it apt to recall this film? It's actually a simple case of lateral thinking. This past week would have seen a series of Christie's and Sotheby's auctions of contemporary Indian art in that very city "" New York.

Many are terming it the real internationalisation of Indian art, earlier sales clearly not being freak cases. Already, the sales have hit the headlines. What strikes me is how the prices at such shows determine the (exponentially enhanced) value of the artist.

Ideally, those who follow contemporary art should, by and large, have a personal opinion on quality as they see it, independent of sales. But the art market boom and the accompanying investment-centric discourse convinces me that this is not the case.

For one, art has morphed in the popular public imagination in urban India as a lucrative proposition, not as a dialogue or an idea or even an experience placed in context. A bright, well-respected gallery owner once mentioned how the last big auction impacted her.

Basically, she was asked for a large gratification sum by some local official. His logic? He had read about the value of art in the media.

Actually, most others, regardless of how they may act, would share his understanding. The discussion steers away from prices only infrequently. No wonder then that many collectors now search for an artist by name, a brand where quality can be wavering (though the price might not be).

As a reading public, we are constantly reminded that Indian contemporary art has gone global. This bullish trend seems to have done precious little for Indian art audiences locally, apart from pushing up the prices and convincing fresh art graduates that they should put up a grand solo show at the earliest.

If we view art through the tastes of auction houses, buyers and cliques, obviously we have very little to say about art per se.

In fact, some of this pre-packed wisdom may be making us less enquiring, less thinking and less critical of art-making and art. It's time to ask ourselves: are we letting the markets alone decide who gets to call it art?