In 2020 entries to art competitions outstripped all previous records. It helped that some were free in recognition of the economic woes of Covid lockdown and of course that any number were conducted online removing the need to pay transport companies to deliver and collect art work. Art competitions have always existed with one like the Prix de Rome inaugurated In France in 1663 during the reign of Louis XIV offering the winning artist a stay of several years at the Palazzo Mancini in Rome at the expense of the king. Careers were launched. The suspicion now is that they exist, not to promote art, but to raise money for any number of organisations through entrance fees. The sceptics may be right. The sheer proliferation of art competitions is testament.
Firstly, a couple of anecdotes. A known British artist whose name I can no longer remember entered his palette into an art competition in the 1960s and won the abstract section. It probably said as much about the judges as it did about the cynicism of the artist and his friends. When he revealed the provenance of the ‘work’ to the press the red-faced judges were forced to defend their choice – I recall phrases that referred to subconscious mechanisms. Abstract art had a problem or two. Without the traditional values/technique of realist painting to draw upon, choice came down to how well judges could relate the work to their own experience. Looking for hints of landscape may well have been a tool.
The second story comes from my time in rural NSW and the annual agricultural show with its competitive art section. To add a note of prestige, the organisers invited a judge from one of the Sydney art schools. Used to a broader definition of what constituted art he marched straight past all of the chocolate box landscapes executed on the reverse side of Hardboard [a composite board soaked in resin and having a pseudo grain on the back side often used as wall cladding], the pots of flowers painted in an impressionist style and a variety of kittens/puppies/babies on cushions, to a painting of mine. As a temporary resident, my win raised not just eyebrows but anger. I was politely asked not to enter again as the competition was for locals. So be it.
Cynicism and parochial attitudes notwithstanding, is there any value in entering such competitions. It depends upon who you talk to. Winning one adds immeasurably to your CV. I know of at least one prominent gallery that deals only with competition winners. It certainly can be a way into the market. For the one winner though there are thousands who don’t even make the cut and of course the entry fee is non-refundable. At least part of the disappointment which one British artist referred to as ‘depressing popularity contests’ [Suarez 2020] is in the opaque nature of the judging process. While a critical appraisal may be published of a winning work, though not usually by the judging panel, critical feedback is rare. A quote such as ‘competitions are important to motivate young artists and help them to develop their creative skills by exposing them to the contemporary talent in the field. By observing the work of their peers, artists have the opportunity to analyse and evaluate their techniques and outcomes vis-à-vis those of other artists’ suggests value in comparison but being confronted by a wining ‘formula’ may lead to a kind of imitation that can prove non-productive. Individual voice is such a precious commodity.
Most of what I have seen in galleries of late is inimitable. While the technique may be obvious on a superficial level, the visible layering of so much work is the result of unknowable processes and an artist sensibility. How an audience responds may have nothing to do with what the artist was exploring. The work presented to competitions is no different.
Regularly entering competitions can be a powerful way to inspire yourself – to say nothing of exposure and even raised self-confidence. Networking is even more valuable. Whether it’s the chance to participate in a forthcoming exhibition, cash, or promotional material the opportunity to evaluate and re-evaluate your body of work in the light of critical commentary is a fundamental part of being an artist. However, that is achievable in other ways outside of competitions and the whole reality of non-selection – a painting can be rejected for many reasons that have nothing to do with ability or skill- may not lead to anything other than disappointment. Having a thick skin is an obvious advantage.
Perhaps the most famous example of rejection lies with Luncheon on the Grass by Edouard Manet in 1863. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know what was likely to be selected. After all, there was a century of precedents of officials of the Paris Salon protecting their own interests. The three thousand works that had been rejected were shown in a nearby gallery hall – the so-called Salon des Refusés. Of course, this provided all sorts of fodder for the press and to history – something to be later repeated by Hitler as he sought to put his stamp on artistic acceptability. This marked for some the creation of the avant-garde.
Whistler joined in the whole rebellion with Symphony in White, No. 1: The White Girl and later In 1884 Sargent ‘shocked’ the Paris Salon in an art contest controversy by exhibiting a portrait he titled Madame X, in which one of the straps of the figure’s gown has slipped down her shoulder. The detail was interpreted as sexually suggestive but it led to the way to Manet’s Olympia and Lautrec immersing himself in brothels to find subject matter. All of this hypocritical attempt to protect public morality was misdirected. A generation earlier, Courbet had made a living painting more than suggestive nudes for his gentlemen patrons [probably Salon officials] to hang in their bedrooms but those he didn’t enter in competitions. He didn’t need to. His studio was a regular meeting place of the rich and lascivious. He knew his market.
Entering art contests suggests hope rather than career planning and a distinct lack of a marketing plan. Today more than ever artists need to be their own marketing managers. Art contests do not validate artists and given the highly subjective nature of choice and the unstated criteria of selection, there is a predatory aspect to it all. Artists who enter the same competition year after year don’t know who wants to buy their art or why. Real validation comes from people who value the art enough to pay for it. Selling art requires a plan. Very few art contests involve selling art; they are only about showing art and the prestige of the acquisitive prize only means that an organisation has one of your works for no more than an entrance fee. For instance, two of my paintings hang in a closed-to-the-public collection owned by a local council.
Art contests are not like sporting contests where you win or lose according to set rules. Art is entirely subjective. For one of the landscape prizes in Australia in 2020 the judges couldn’t find a winner [the standard was so high……] and in the end they resorted to the accompanying artist statement. As subjectivity goes, this was the ultimate insult. As Picasso said, if he could write about his ideas he wouldn’t need to paint at all. When winning an art competition comes down to skill with written language, there is going to be a need for the equivalent of literary editors.
So, what conclusions can be drawn from all of this?
Art contest judges have to pick at least one “winner” just to keep the competition going and the truth is that success for artists doesn’t come from participating in petty competitions against your peers. If you seriously want to succeed as a saleable artist then the social media profile and website is a better option. In any case you had better have the active Instagram/Pinterest/Facebook account which directs traffic back to your website because that is where buyers will look. All that a competition will do for all but the winner and selected few is to provide a platform for possible recognition. It is certainly not the be all and end all.