The act of fading of the benchmark in the noise of casual applause
We could say there is a form of masked cruelty in the benevolence with which the contemporary public views the artistic act. In an era where any mark left on paper claims the status of a masterpiece, validation has ceased to be a recognition of mastery. It has become a mere protection mechanism for the ego.
Today’s artist is no longer fighting against the resistance of the material or the rigor of study. Instead, they struggle against the seduction of immediate confirmation, coming from areas where critical thinking has been replaced by an empathy for mediocrity. The first and most insidious trap is the comfortable validation of inner circles. It is that “warm” space where those close to you do not validate the quality of the finished product, but rather the effort and good intentions. In this bubble, the artist is maintained in a state of perpetual amateurism, fed by emotional admiration that stunts progress. When feedback is reduced to affection, the rigor of drawing disappears, leaving behind a hollow satisfaction. It is, essentially, a complicity in stagnation.
Higher up in the formal hierarchy, we witness a grave erosion of the standard. The distinction between institutional validation and the endorsement of a master has blurred to the point of disappearance. Art institutions have often become administrative entities that simply check off trends or budgets, offering diplomas and exhibition spaces to “forms without substance.” Without a proper standard that profound professional admiration for those who mastered the laws of composition and line before us—the institution remains an empty shell. An artist can occupy entire galleries without ever passing the honest test of classical study, benefiting from a “stamped” validation that ignores the absence of craft.
However, the most grotesque spectacle of validation unfolds in the digital arena, where the dictatorship of “the cute” dictates instant hierarchies. Here, art is consumed feverishly during a three-second scroll. The mass audience shows a suspicious preference for the “talented” amateur, the one who “has no formal training, but look at the nice things they make.” This sympathy is not accidental; it betrays a collective inferiority complex. The professional, through the rigor and depth of their work, is intimidating and difficult to digest. They require visual education and intellectual effort. In contrast, the amateur who handles a marker with enthusiasm is accessible. The public validates them because they feel like they’re equal: if we deny the value of rigorous study, we can all feel like artists.
In this fractured landscape, an uncomfortable truth must be understood: real validation is not a popularity vote or a turnover figure. It is the painful recognition of the distance between the one who merely “expresses themselves” and the one who masters the laws of art, identifies with it, and manifests through it. For someone who understands drawing as a ceaseless study, the only valid confirmation remains the one found before the easel and in the presence of the masters who defined rigor before us. The rest is just background noise that will fade long before the last meaningful line is drawn.
