Priceless: how do you sell unsellable art?

Most of the world’s art changes hands outside what we consider to be the ‘art market’. From local markets to small galleries and high street shops, the majority of what hangs on people’s walls is not bought at a luxury art fair or in a blue chip gallery. And even in an increasingly commercialised art world, not all that comes under the banner of contemporary art is commodifiable or even wants to be.

A lack of available representation for artists has led some to create an ecosystem that allows them to operate outside of the traditional art market model while still participating in it. But a combination of financial crises, personal politics, social practice and sheer necessity are creating changes in the way that artists are working with commercial galleries.

In the past, visual artists of all practices would rely on galleries to invest in them, but for artists working in areas where conventional sales don’t apply – such as digital spaces, performance and in some cases, film and social practice – the money to fund these projects has to come from somewhere. Of course, there are commissions, biennials and performances that can provide income for all artists but without the object, the commodity unconventional practices can present complications.

The idea that all art must have a price tag often goes against what compels artists to make art in the first place. Recently, we have seen an increase in investigative, activism-based practices finding a home in the art world, such as research-based collective, Forensic Architecture. Practices like these cost money and don’t necessarily generate income but have become an intrinsic part of the art ecosystem through their impact and the values they represent. Their projects are funded through grants, commissions and investigations, the funds from which go to maintaining the organisation and the work it does.

Performance artists often have to get creative when it comes to making a living. Rosie Gibbens, whose performance and sculpture combine feminism with an irreverent surrealist humour, points out that early in her career the opportunity to be paid to perform works came alongside the exhibition of static works the price of which would far outstrip her fee. There were also issues around performing at openings and the work feeling secondary to the other art on view.

“I think some of the problems that I had were because I didn’t advocate for what I needed. So I think there’s some responsibility on the artists who are doing performance to make it clear how it needs to go down because I think everyone has really good intentions,” she explained over the phone.” Now, I prefer to work with an infrastructure because it can feel like you’re the entertainment or something [at the private view of an exhibition]. I haven’t felt that for a few years but sometimes if you know that the works on the walls are selling for a lot of money and your performance fee is like 200 quid or something, here’s a disparity there.”

For Gibbens, performance-specific events are on the rise and now offer better rates and cater more to the specific needs of performance. She also makes film, objects and kinetic sculptures, some of which are incorporated into her performance. While social media helps her reach a lot of people, she is conscious of falling into making unpaid, ‘fun content’ for popularity’s sake.

Marina Abramović is undoubtedly the most adept artist at turning a performance-based practice into a saleable commodity, though even she spent many years building her practice without earning much from it. She has since monetised her work through documentation, instruction, her institute, her ‘method’ which she teaches and trains others to teach and creating physical art which is sold alongside her practice. While not every artist can boast an internationally distributed feature film like The Artist is Present (2012), which documented her MoMA New York survey of the same name, other artists might take a leaf out of her entrepreneurial nous.

Choreographer Holly Blakey collaborates on music videos, films and commissioned filmed performances which she hosts on her online platforms and over the years she has cultivated a loyal physical audience for her live shows. Alongside the traditional model of conceiving and staging performances, Blakey complements her practice with paid appearances, work in movement direction, choreography and collaborations – including with the Francis Bacon Estate, Vivienne Westwood, Rosalía and Mica Levi, speaking to a huge range of audiences with each. “I always have such gratitude, because I didn’t go down a conventional route, I didn’t take a conventional training path,” she said.

Blakey’s work has also found a home on video-based platforms like Nowness and brand-led sites like Art Basel’s editorial vertical and exists in parallel with traditional outlets and commissioned works by artists.

Artist Moriah Evans is based in New York and stages her site-specific performances in galleries, institutions, DIY spaces and dance venues. She was the dance and process co-curator at the acclaimed venue The Kitchen from 2016-23 and states that a number of institutions in the city were artist-founded and therefore intrinsically more interdisciplinary. She says that the documentation of performance beyond the mainstream is often lacking.

“As a performer, you need to look at how many people are on staff, what is the budget of the space; the types of things will impact how you are working and how you are enabled to work there, etc.,” Evans explains. “For me, what’s exciting is that we’re living in a moment where there is a real fluidity between [different] types of practices and I think younger artists have a lot of options available to them in terms of where they’re placing their work.”

In another corner of the creative landscape, social and civic art practices often operate within museums in the education department or as part of initiatives with the infrastructure of local authorities and essential services. A recent exhibition, ‘Radio Ballads’ at The Serpentine (2022)  focused on social practice and featured  Sonia Boyce, Helen Cammock, Ilona Sagar and Rory Pilgrim, who was nominated for the 2023 Turner Prize for their work in the exhibition. The exhibition was curated by Amal Khalaf, Serpentine’s curator at large and co-curator of the next Sharjah Biennial, a leading practitioner in the field. “I learned to work in art in Cairo where there wasn’t a defined audience. We were making art for everyone that was about issues that affected the city,” she explains.” So I’d be working with artists to question who we are making art for which is really important.”

Social practice art can often involve months and sometimes years of (often collaborative)  work that remains unseen.

But where does income for artists and curators working in this field come from? Most artists rely on grants. Most if not all museums have an education department and an increasing number of organisations have a civic art department which functions ‘at large’ to support its locale. The practice is often termed as ‘holding space’ meaning creating time and facilities within institutions for lengthy, delicate, care-based practices to take place.

“The people holding the work with the artists and the artists themselves, are doing many things but they’re also doing a lot of amazing experimentation and stretching the possibilities of what art can do,“ explains Khalaf. “Only some of it can be seen and is legible by an art world audience, there’s this translation that happens with some artists that employ a social practice, as they become more well known within the art market, or the art world and accepted and into lots of collections. There’s a need to make tangible this magic which is in some ways non-commodifiable.”