“What I never wanted in art – and why I probably didn’t belong in art – was that I never wanted viewers. I think the basic condition of art is the viewer: The viewer is here, the art is there. So the viewer is in a position of desire and frustration. There were those Do Not Touch signs in a museum that are saying that the art is more expensive than the people. But I wanted users and a habitat. I don’t know if I would have used those words then, but I wanted inhabitants, participants. I wanted an interaction.” — Vito Acconci
In January 1972, Acconci staged one of the decade’s most notorious performance art pieces at the Sonnabend Gallery in SoHo. Gallery visitors entered to find the space empty except for a low wood ramp. Hidden below the ramp, out of sight, Acconci masturbated, basing his fantasies on the movements of the visitors above him. He narrated these fantasies aloud, his voice projected through speakers into the gallery: “you’re on my left … you’re moving away but I’m pushing my body against you, into the corner … you’re bending your head down, over me … I’m pressing my eyes into your hair.” Seedbed was a seminal work that transformed the physical space of the gallery through minimal intervention to create an intimate connection between artist and audience, even as they remained invisible to one another.
Vito Acconci Seedbed 1972 Gelatin silver print 7 7/8 x 11 11/16 in.
“The whole thing [about] art and money is ridiculous. The value of a painting at auction is not necessarily the value of the painting. It’s the value of two people bidding against each other because they really want the painting.”
If a painting is created mainly to match a luxurious interior rather than to express something deeply personal or challenge ideas, then it leans more toward decorative art, even if it’s technically a painting. It becomes part of the decor rather than a standalone statement.
That raises an interesting question—does the intent of the artist or the way the artwork is used define whether it’s fine art or decorative art? If someone paints with raw emotion and meaning but it ends up as a luxury wall piece, does that change what it is?
Especially with modern abstract painting—it’s everywhere in high-end homes, hotels, and corporate spaces. A lot of it seems designed to be aesthetically pleasing but not too thought-provoking, so it blends into the environment rather than demanding attention. It feels like abstraction has been commercialized into a luxury good rather than a form of deep expression, at least in many cases.
Of course, that doesn’t mean all abstract art today is purely decorative. There are still artists pushing boundaries and using abstraction in meaningful ways. But a lot of what sells seems to be more about fitting a vibe than saying something.
Bischoff, who in 1976 told Paul Karlstrom: “I’m still supporting myself by teaching,” had only two one man shows before his first New York show at Staempfli Gallery in 1960, including a 1955 show at the Paul Kantor Gallery in Los Angeles from which nothing sold. In contrast, leading artists in New York benefitted from a booming art market. For example, Willem de Kooning’s 1959 New York show sold out on the first day, bringing in about $150,000 (about $1.2 million dollars today, when adjusted for inflation).
Of course, de Kooning was a sensation, but many other New York artists sold well while California artists struggled. In this situation, decently paying teaching jobs were a rare and precious commodity. When it was rumored in 1955 that David Park had been offered $10,000 per year to teach at UC Berkeley, artist Nathan Oliveira – who at the time was earning $2.50 per hour teaching art 18 hours per week – thought that Park had been given “the opportunity of a lifetime.” As it turns out, Park’s actual starting annual salary was $5,300.00.
Elmer Bischoff Seated Figure in Garden 1958 Oil on canvas 47 ¾ × 56 3/4in. Whitney Museum of American Art, New York
