Most people I talk to quietly confess little optimism about the future, a faint flicker of hope for humanity and our planet, and utter dismay about the immediate problems facing us. For instance, the proportion of people I know who believe in World War III is staggering. I should add that most of these people enjoy the best life that has ever been on offer. Behind the thin veneer of corporate cheerfulness, electoral swaggering, and cultural razzmatazz, there lurks a vast, bleak, and chilly vacuum. Can art help? Can art help alleviate the gloom, inject some passion into life, and perhaps even chart a course around the doom? Posed this way, the question appears hopelessly naïve. And yet, without some hope—actually, a great deal of hope—we are doomed anyway. A dollop of zest for life and a dash of beguiling beauty would on occasion come handy, too. By helping explore the recesses of our hunter-gatherer minds, art may even guide us to a new understanding of our powers and our limitations. But none of this will ever spring from the art world we now enjoy. None of this will come about without the artists taking that world into their own hands. Can artists help themselves, though?

Addendum (January 2, 2023)

I almost burst into laughter when I stumbled upon this piece of writing purely by chance. Rhetorical questions galore! To begin with, art cannot possibly help. Among other calamities, World War III is well beyond its power, no doubt whatsoever. Closer to home, artists cannot possibly help themselves, either. That is beyond their ken even under the best of circumstances, peace and quiet assured far and wide. Simply put, this piece is about my departure from the art world, which was close enough to my heart during my London days in the late Nineties, when it appeared to be blossoming. Perhaps foolishly, I expected that artists to my liking—that is, the best and the brightest in their midst—would be able to help themselves by jumping out of the pernicious art world dominated by crooked marketeers of all descriptions. Even a small community of such artists could make a difference, or so I sincerely hoped back then. Whence my idea of the last art show in Hyde Park, of all places (“Invitation to the Last Art Show,” June 21, 1998). But it was a complete and total dud, it goes without saying (“The Last Art Show,” June 21, 2000). Ever since, I have abandoned all hope for the art world entire, artists included. Three cheers for rhetorical questions!