Art for everyone? No, thank you.
We often hear this phrase: “Art for everyone.”
It sounds full of good intentions. Generous, democratic, open.
And yet, every time I hear it, it makes me uncomfortable.
Because beneath this apparent benevolence, I sense an injunction. A reduction. A betrayal.
No one ever says “A Ferrari for everyone,” or “A vintage wine for everyone.”
So why should art be made universally accessible, at the risk of losing its complexity, its depth, its demands?
Décrochages - 100 × 100 cm
What this phrase really hides
"Art for everyone" is an injunction to be likable, clear, pleasant. It suggests that an artist should produce works that are immediately readable, with no shadows, no ambiguity, no demands. But art is not a standardized cultural product. True art questions. It unsettles. It can be silent, rough, uncomfortable. It requires time, attention, and sometimes even distance. And today, “for everyone” often means “fast, pleasing, decorative.”
And I do not paint for everyone.
I refuse to be a low-cost artist
In this “art for everyone” mindset, artists are sometimes expected to give. To exhibit for free. To “share their passion.” As if passion alone were enough to sustain a life. We applaud the “poor genius”, we devise promotional strategies, we sell rows of walls — for an exhibition, like subscription plans for visibility.
Why does this persistent image of the sacrificial, endlessly generous artist still exist? Why this idea that art should be given — but never sold at its true value? I am not here to sacrifice what I create on the altar of “visibility.” I am here to say something true. And that has value.
La cour des rats - 100 × 100
Art doesn’t have to be for everyone. It can be for each person.
I believe in encounters. I believe that a work of art can deeply move someone. Touch them. Stay with them for a long time. But this requires receptiveness. Availability. A certain kind of listening. I am not trying to attract crowds. I seek to create a tension between what I paint and the gaze of the person who stops. And if that gaze is rare — all the better. It means the work remains free.
A painting is not an app
Our times would like everything to be fluid, ergonomic, engaging. But a canvas does not respond to a UX algorithm. It is not meant to “convert” a visitor into a buyer. It is meant to exist. To resonate. To resist, at times. I do not paint for “everyone.” I paint for those who seek something beyond a decorative object. I paint for those who are willing to be disturbed.
I prefer demanding painting to flat art
There are works we do not immediately understand. Pictorial silences. Ellipses. Tensions. And often, these are the ones that stay with us. That leave a mark. The ones that do not flatter us. The ones that force us to think and feel differently. This is the kind of painting I want to create. One that does not give itself away entirely. One that offers a little resistance.
La cour des rats - the sketch
La cour des rats - 100 × 100
Conclusion: I want to paint freely
I do not want to compromise.
I want my paintings to have their own rhythm. Their own demands.
I want them to speak to those who are ready to hear them — even partially, even later.
Art should not be for everyone.
It should be free, sincere, embodied.
And then, perhaps, it will touch someone. Not everyone. But someone.
And that will already be immense.
Frequently Asked Questions
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Because it is too often used to devalue the work of artists, to demand easy works, or to make art “consumable.”
Art is not a service offering. -
It is not elitist by posture. But it is demanding. It requires attention, listening, presence.
This is not elitism — it is respect for the viewer. -
Yes. My original works are visible on my website, with a clear artistic statement, accompanying texts, and the possibility to make an offer.
