What Is Worth Framing?
Recently, I found myself lightly amused—and occasionally frustrated—by the social media presence of a well-known traditional sculptor whose bronze works are widely respected. His Instagram feed frequently mocks contemporary artists who chase novelty without effort, skill, or depth—artists whose work leans more on cultivated cult followings than on craft itself.
The videos he shares are familiar: crowds gathered around vague performances, stick-figure gestures, objects waiting to fall, or a single moment of slapstick absurdity stretched thin. When it ends, applause follows—hesitant at first, then enthusiastic—less out of understanding than relief that something happened. Moments later, the performance is praised as revolutionary, though no real movement, insight, or transformation occurred.
I don’t entirely disagree with the critique. Every generation produces the occasional work that genuinely reshapes the landscape of art—but those moments are rare. Needles in haystacks. What we’re often left with instead are fleeting spectacles, destined to fade once the novelty wears off.
It reminds me of the alt-coin era in crypto: thousands of coins rising and falling without purpose or intrinsic value, built on hype rather than substance. Years from now, most will be forgotten entirely, their names rewritten out of the cultural memory along with the lessons they failed to teach.
Manufactured Meaning
For a long time, I wondered why certain figures—Pollock, Warhol, Rothko—were elevated to such mythic status. Eventually, I arrived at a less romantic conclusion. Much of modern art’s canonization was driven by cultural, political, and economic forces rather than pure artistic merit. Abstract expressionism, for example, was actively promoted as a psychological counterweight to socialism and communism—an image of unrestrained freedom.
Rothko, in particular, strikes me as less a painter of depth and more a master rhetorician—someone who could persuade you that a blank canvas held transcendent meaning, if only you were enlightened enough to feel it. And perhaps that persuasion was the work itself.
The uncomfortable truth is this: we are constantly framed into believing things are meaningful simply because we’re told they are. Put nearly anything on a wall, surround it with authority, and people will work hard to convince themselves it matters.
So What Is Worth Framing?
This is where my frustration gives way to a more important question.
What is actually worth holding our attention?
A work of art, at its best, carries light within structure. It asks something of us—not applause, not allegiance—but presence. It deserves a moment of our lives because it gives something back: insight, beauty, humility, wonder, or truth.
Too much of our attention today is siphoned away by spectacle. By artists who trade depth for fame, and sincerity for virality. Your attention is worth more than that.
Learning to See Again
The next time you walk through a gallery—or scroll past one online—pause. Don’t give yourself to the loudest work, the cleverest provocation, or the piece engineered to steal attention like a catchy commercial jingle.
Listen instead for what carries wisdom. For what holds life quietly within it.
If there is real light in a work, it won’t demand your praise. It will illuminate something inside you—and allow you to become more fully yourself, not a reflection of someone else’s performance.