Is Art for Collectors or for the People?

We have accepted a recurring myth: the belief that art is for everyone. We often romanticize the aesthetics of art and what it means for the people, but slowly, we forget the exclusivity of gallery spaces, the rising cost of artistic visibility, and the gated participation and access tied to the art market rather than the emotional or cultural connection. Art, for a long time, has been considered an expression. It is a way for the artist to tell the world their story, evolving identities, and cultural expression to an audience. However, the audience has now become a homogenous social class that art is strategically created for, and so it leaves us with the question, “Is art for collectors or for the people?”

Let’s begin with history. The truth is that art and money have always had a flirtatious relationship, and money has always flattered art in ways that influence its meaning and visibility. From the Renaissance era in Europe to the sacred era of the Benin bronzes in Nigeria, art was commissioned by elites to reflect status, divinity, and control. During 17th-century Europe, Academism—an art movement that only permitted artists to create according to the extreme standards of the Royal Academy—forced the hands of artists to conform, limiting the subjects they could portray and the techniques they could explore. All these rules compartmentalised the artists, which in response brought art movements such as Impressionism, Cubism, Conceptual art, and Pop art.

Similarly, in Nigeria, Nok culture and Benin bronzes were not created for the public but were tied to kingships, although they carried great cultural enrichment and value. The artists of these times did not think, “This is my story I want to share,”. They were commissioned to share. Artists were decorators of power; therefore, art’s alignment with the elite is not new but foundational.

One must also consider the dependence on the art market. While it is important to regard collectors as major patrons in art, it is also important to understand that collectors influence the art ecosystem, and because of this, there is usually more focus on investor appeal than artistic innovation. Galleries often prioritize work that appeals to investor tastes, often reducing art to décor. Therefore, artists that are desperate to make something of their name become pressured to tailor their works to appeal to buyers. This, of course, diminishes creativity, and art begins to lose its substance. The art that the public is supposed to connect to is now hung within a private space for the eyes of the collector only.

This trend is most visible with figurative expressive artworks created to please foreign collectors who are more than ready to grab their own version of “African Aesthetics” as a way to support emerging artists—artworks defined by vibrant colours, glossy surfaces, and digestible cultural references—stripped of historical depth or discomfort. Why? Because complexity and confrontation require explanation, and the explanation gives life to the power behind the art itself, which is not always profitable. In Morenike Adeagbo’s Why are so many African art fairs dominated by non-African dealers?(2022), an essay published in The Art Newspaper, she emphasized how artists are pressured to create pieces that stand out in fair settings, rewarding aesthetics over conceptual depth. Quoting Majid Biggar, the former lead curator at the Lagos gallery SMO Contemporary Art, she wrote: “With the surge in demand for works by Black artists, more international galleries have been offering opportunities to young African artists—oftentimes at the cost of the organic growth of their careers.” But he warns that what they potentially gain in international exposure, “they risk losing full ownership and autonomy of their art career and works.”

The result of this commercialization is conformity. For the art pieces to be more legible for collectors’ tastes and desires, creativity and innovation stifle.

Curators also have a deep role to play. Curators act as the bridge between the art, artist, art patrons, and the general public. They are powerful allies, and in the right hands, curating is storytelling—an act of interpretation and access. However, most curatorial statements are hard to understand and are hardly relatable. Sometimes using academic language and complex theory, they make the exhibition inaccessible to the general public. A good example can be seen in a Tate Modern survey between 2014 and 2015 that revealed many first-time visitors found the labels and curatorial language confusing. They felt rather idiotic than smart enough to understand contemporary art.

How about at the Lagos Biennial (2019) and the major Art X Lagos art fair? From various social media banter and informal reviews, the audience couldn’t understand the artist’s statements or how the works were connected to the central theme—it simply “flew over their heads.” When it comes to curating, it means structure, and if a person cannot simply identify the story you tell with each structure of the art pieces, then they are simply objects placed on the wall with no viable connection.

If a curator is telling a story, should their audience be intellectually viable, or should they simply be curious enough to be there? From my personal experience with exhibitions, I have mostly found the public’s perception to be “Wow, this is beautiful,” rather than “This is groundbreaking.” I have seen phones document the art as a background rather than the major piece. No wonder the late curator Bisi Silva constantly criticized the Nigerian art ecosystem and its lack of interpretation and inclusion.

Curators have the power to shift the exclusivity narrative to an inclusive one, and while some are already crafting shows that prioritise narratives, cultural remedy, or social access over marketability, it is still not the norm.

What about access? When one thinks of an audience at art galleries, they imagine expensive perfume, bourgeois laughter, wine in soft hands, and a mix of high-society accents. The common man is not your average audience in galleries or exhibitions.

The culture of gatekeeping in the art world is enough to rest this argument on. Gatekeeping rests on perception, power, and money in the art world. The truth is that elitism is still seen as cultural authority, and your height of nobility (in the collector sense) determines your intellectual seriousness. It is only those with this intellectual seriousness who define what is “good” or “real” art.

Galleries, museums, and curators most times want to control the narrative. The works that are shown, the stories that are told, and how the art is interpreted are curated to reflect the collectors’ interests, not the public’s. Even geographically in Lagos, galleries are located in Victoria Island or Ikoyi, which are areas often inaccessible to the average Lagosian.

Despite this imbalance, artistic figures like the late Bisi Silva, who defied the art market and created room for more artistic freedom, and Yinka Shonibare, who has led multiple initiatives to reclaim balance in the art world, have reminded us that art can be both marketable and meaningful. Resisting homogenization and restoring art to its rightful complexity in Nigeria, they reminded us that art can be both marketable and meaningful.

Similarly, curators who centre context, culture, and community are shifting the narrative. They show that art does not have to choose between depth and access or between aesthetic and meaning.

So, is art really for the people or collectors? The truth is that collectors shape art as much as the public; however, collectors are major patrons. Their preference is what is seen, shown, and sold, but it does not have to mean exclusion. What good is art if it cannot inform the masses?

Art can hold space for expression, connection, and cultural enrichment if there is intentionality. Galleries must rethink access, curators must prioritise clarity and context, and artists should be allowed to tell their own stories. If this does not change, art will lose all autonomy and will be easily reduced to aesthetics rather than a symbol for the people.