Thinking about all the wild, modern art aboard our cruise ships got me thinking about this perennial chestnut, the story of how well-connected people with the right politics can get their “art” purchased for outrageous sums, not because it’s “good” art, but because it’s a form of purchasing influence. When Kamala Harris’s stepdaughter or Joe Biden’s son sell a work of art, there is—at some level—a transaction in access taking place. At the very least, there is a purchase of goodwill with powerful people and families and institutions. Art (or plum jobs or the like) provides a convenient vehicle for buying access that otherwise would be illegal: you can’t bribe a politician, but you can hire her homely stepdaughter to model or buy his son’s crappy paintings.

As much as this world of fine art influence peddling is distasteful, I think it’s something that elite Leftists get right—at least, in spirit. They actively support their own. Yes, there’s something luridly transactional about it, in that way that occurs when money and power intermingle incestuously, but it shows that they at least pay lip service to supporting their creatives. The Left has done that fairly well since at least the Works Progress Administration commissioned artists, writers, historians, musicologists, musicians, dramatists, radio hosts, etc., to produce works during the Great Depression.

Before the modern Left hit the scene, Gilded Age robber barons spent lavishly to support the arts, architecture, photography, and the like. Indeed, one argument I’ve read (and adopted) is that when these huge data centers roll into towns, they should exercise a degree of noblesse oblige and build parks, fund schools, contribute to libraries, and support the local economy through local hiring, etc.

Naturally, the Gilded Age model seems fundamentally and philosophically more aligned with this blog’s ethos—there’s a real risk to the national government using taxpayer dollars to fund garbage—but the idea of supporting your people is one that the Left gets right (of course, it’s easier to do that when you support your people with other people’s money).

I’ve made similar calls over the years, but it’s really important for conservatives to support one another’s endeavors, be they artistic or more traditionally business-oriented. There are signs of doing that when it comes to consumer products (just think of all the conservative spin-offs of products like coffee, soap, razors, chocolate, and the like). Folks on the Right tend to gravitate towards products that are more immediately and obviously usable.

But art is what moves culture, not a razorblade that’s just a Bic or Gillette rebranded. Tolkien, Lewis, Chesterton, Kirk—and on and on and on—these are the creators who shaped and continue to shape our culture.

Food for thought.

With that, here is 24 July 2025’s “TBT^16: Modern Art and Influence“:

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I’m currently reading through J.D. Cowan‘s short book The Pulp Mindset: A NewPub Survival Guide (those are Amazon Affiliate links; I receive a portion of any purchases made through those links, at no additional cost to you), which isn’t precisely a guide on how to write pulp but, rather, an extended argument for why one should write pulp.  Cowan unapologetically—indeed, enthusiastically—argues that the “low art” of the pulps provides readers what they want:  action and wonder.  He makes a reasonable argument for reviving this older form of writing, which features punchy writing and upright heroes:  audiences want to read such stories, but “OldPub” (his term for the current publishing industry) prefers massive tomes that push approved messages.  Readers lose out, therefore, on good stories, and the publishing industry is dying as a result.

That’s gotten me thinking about art and writing and what not.  Last summer, a guest writer, Brian Meredith, wrote a post entitled “There’s No Such Thing as Bad Art” here at TPP.  I don’t precisely agree—I think we can have (more or less) objective standards for what qualifies as good art and literature—but he does touch upon what I think is the important distinction between “low” and “high” art.  Cowan argues in his book that pulps are “low art,” but that doesn’t make them worthless.  But both low and high art can, I would argue, be quite bad.  Just take this example from author and poet Liza Libes (Libes is an exquisite writer; she’s just sharing an excerpt from some trashy “romance” novel); no one can read that and not realize it’s awful writing (and not just because of the lurid subject matter).

But the worst art is art that is only valuable in the financial sense because the people making it are either a.) well-connected and/or b.) elevated because of some perceived victim status.  We’ve had too much of both lately, and it’s why—as Cowan argues—the publishing and film industries are dying slow deaths (and, yes, yes, shortened attention spans due to TikTok and what not play a role, too, I’m sure, but people go to those platforms because they at least give folks what they want).  That was the crux of this post, first written back in 2021 and reblogged mercilessly every summer.

With that, here is 25 July 2024’s “TBT^4: Modern Art and Influence“:

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The state of modern art is not exactly a pressing concern in a nation wracked with attempted assassination attempts and listless, anxious youths.  At this point, I suspect most of my readers will realize that modern art is something of a joke played on the rich and gullible to separate them from their money.  It’s also an attack on Beauty, one intended to demoralize us.

What I learned shamefully recently is that modern art was also a CIA psy-op.  That’s not some wild-eyed conspiracy theory; it’s so well-documented and mainstream, even the BBC wrote about it—in 2016 (see, I’m late to the party)!

I’m actually not opposed to government funding for the arts, but whenever the government gets involved with anything, there is the risk that the government will pervert and distort what the art is supposed to be.  One very real risk is that “art” will devolve into propaganda.  That’s fine if we’re fighting the Second World War and need to inspire people to fight Hitler and the Japanese; if we’re trying to demoralize our own populace with nastiness, it’s not.

The other, related risk is that the government will fund art that we don’t like, personally or collectively.  The government is ostensibly “of the people,” but when everyone allegedly is in charge, no one is.  The functionaries responsible for handing out National Endowment for the Arts grants are likely doing so based on qualities of the artist—race, regime-approved ideology, gender, etc.—rather than any actual technical skill.  So we end up with patronage not of skilled artists, but well-connected or demographically-approved artists.  The results are predictably terrible, and we’re all flummoxed as to why we spent $2 million of taxpayer money on it.

A healthy government that actually cared about its people would fund art that promotes Beauty and Truth.  If we had such a government, I’d be all for government funding of the arts.  Indeed, we probably do have that at the local and State levels.  I personally love that the City of Columbia, South Carolina subsidizes the South Carolina Philharmonic.  Many Republicans and/or conservatives would balk at that, but it is a worthwhile investment to keep classical music alive in—let’s face it—the “Sahara of the Bozart,” as H. L. Mencken cruelly (and, I think at the time, unfairly) labeled the South.

I feel like I’m contradicting myself a bit here, so to distract from that—and to get on with the post—here is 27 July 2023’s “TBT^2: Modern Art and Influence“:

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