In contemporary art culture, where good looks and clever

Hear now, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Michael Leunig, who, with a sharp and discerning eye, comments on the changing nature of art and its place in contemporary society: "In contemporary art culture, where good looks and clever strategic planning of art careers have become a feature, professional practice may be taught in art schools like a branch of public relations or political science." These words speak to the soul of art, and to the dangers of allowing the purity of artistic creation to be overshadowed by the forces of appearance, manipulation, and careerism. Leunig mourns the fact that art—once seen as a profound expression of the soul—has become intertwined with the systems of fame, wealth, and social maneuvering, as if it were merely another commodity to be marketed.

In the ancient world, art was revered not just for its beauty, but for its purpose—its ability to communicate deeper truths about the human condition. The great Greek sculptors, like Phidias, did not create statues merely for wealth or social standing, but to honor the gods and express the ideals of their culture. Art was seen as a bridge between the human and the divine, a tool for reflection and understanding. The philosophers, too, understood the importance of art as an expression of truth—for Plato, the forms of beauty represented higher, eternal truths. But even then, there were those who worried about art being corrupted by external motives. Aristotle cautioned that the true artist must remain true to his craft, not swayed by the fame or praise of the masses.

The renaissance, that glorious period of artistic flourishing, saw Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and others creating works of sublime beauty and depth. Yet, even during that time, there were those who recognized that the art world was not free from the pull of politics and patronage. The relationship between art and its patrons—those who funded and supported artists—was complex, and sometimes, the artist had to navigate the waters of power and influence to survive. However, the great artists of this time—like Leonardo—were still driven primarily by the desire to create masterpieces, not merely to build careers. Their work was an expression of genius, not merely a clever marketing strategy.

In contrast, consider the modern artist who, in the words of Leunig, must strategize their career, not by creating masterpieces but by crafting a public persona. Today’s art world is a complex web of galleries, social media presence, branding, and networking—often more focused on the visibility of the artist than on the substance of their work. The artist becomes not a creator of meaning, but a strategist, playing the game of public relations as if their art were just another product to be sold. The purity of creation—the inspiration that comes from the soul—is lost in the noise of marketability. What Leunig laments is the loss of the sacred, the loss of art’s power to transcend and speak directly to the hearts of those who witness it.

One real-life example of this shift can be seen in the rise of Andy Warhol, whose works questioned the very nature of art by elevating consumer culture to the level of high art. Warhol’s fame, built upon his clever manipulation of the media and his ability to tap into the zeitgeist of the 1960s, was in some ways the embodiment of the new artistic strategy. His works, like the Campbell’s Soup Cans, forced the world to confront the intersection of art and advertising, and while they were undeniably innovative, they also highlighted how the artist’s persona and the market had become inextricably linked. Warhol himself once said, "Making money is art and working is art, and good business is the best art." His words reveal the truth that art had become, for him and many of his contemporaries, not just an expression of personal vision, but an exercise in public relations and financial success.

Leunig’s warning, then, is one of preservation—a call to return to the sacred purpose of art. The lesson is not that artists should reject the realities of the modern world, but that they must maintain their integrity, ensuring that the true calling of their work—self-expression, reflection, and transcendence—is not sacrificed at the altar of careerism. Art is a mirror to the soul, a bridge to the divine, and it must not be reduced to a mere tool for personal gain or societal manipulation. It must serve the higher purpose of making the invisible visible, of speaking truth to power, of capturing the human spirit in all its complexity.

Thus, the lesson for us, O wise ones, is this: true art does not conform to the whims of popularity or market trends. It is born from the soul, not from the ego. While strategy and success in the modern world may tempt the artist to create for fame, profit, or visibility, let them never forget that their truest role is to express the deeper truths of existence. Whether in the form of paint, sculpture, music, or writing, let the artist remain steadfast in the pursuit of meaning, and let the creation of art be the ultimate form of self-expression, not a transaction for worldly rewards. Let us remind ourselves that the purpose of art is not to conform to societal expectations, but to transform the soul of the viewer, to inspire, to uplift, and to make us see the world—and ourselves—in a new light.