The Whitechapel Gallery director, and most important woman in British art, Iwona Blazwick reflects on her four-decade rise – including the day she discovered Damien Hirst.
These are people who, until recently, would have spent their money elsewhere. “London, in terms of the art market, was a bit of a backwater until Frieze made it fashionable,” Blazwick says. “It’s become a bit like Cannes or the Oscars – it’s a big moment for the international professional art world to have a huge get-together. Because of Britain’s geography it means that colleagues from America will come to London to meet colleagues from Europe, Japan and so on.”
Blazwick
says that this globalisation of the art world has had a levelling effect, the
sense now being that it is anyone’s game. “Fifty years ago you could have said
there’s a top-10 league of artists, but I don’t think you can say that anymore.
It’s less hierarchical, and I think it’s a good thing. It’s more diverse, more
cosmopolitan.”
But the fact
that there are now so many emerging art scenes has made her job as a curator –
discovering new talent – even more demanding. The world of a high-profile curator
is, she admits, “very competitive”, and she spends a lot of time on aeroplanes.
“How on earth do you cover it all when it’s India, Lebanon, Norway?” she says.
“We all worry about our carbon footprint and how to navigate all this.”
This
broadening of the market means that there is also a fevered search for
undiscovered – and potentially lucrative – new talent. “Now we’re seeing
artists being recognised from Latin America, in the Middle East and so on, so
the geography of it has expanded and the collector base has expanded,” Blazwick
says. “That demand, the appetite to collect those works, drives the prices up,
even though that’s an inevitable part of the market. It’s problematic because
then the insurance premiums go up and that makes it all the more difficult for
the public sector to show those works.
So,
ironically, having been part of the process of giving them visibility and
providing a platform for them, we then find ourselves in a situation where we
struggle to afford to be able to present these very artists because their
market values have gone up.”
What about
the jaw-dropping amounts that certain artworks fetch at auction? Last year Jeff
Koons became the most expensive living artist when his Balloon Dog sculpture
sold for $58.4 million.
“We have
these headline-grabbing results in auction houses but when you look at the
artists who get those prices they are a tiny, tiny percentage,” she says. “We
can be bedazzled by a few high-profile names but for the majority of artists
that’s not the reality. There was a shocking statistic that came out a few
months ago, which stated that the average salary for an artist in Britain is
£10,000 a year.”
Blazwick
says that the “image of the starving artist in a garret is now such a cliché”,
but supporting the careers of young artists is something about which she is
passionate. In 2007 she set up the biannual MaxMara Art Prize for Women in
collaboration with the fashion house. The winner is given a six-month artist’s
residency in Italy with the work produced there exhibited at the Whitechapel
(one winner, Laure Prouvost, went on to win the Turner Prize in 2013).
Despite
the many brilliant, talented female artists in this country, Blazwick believes
that the odds are still stacked against them; even a year’s maternity leave can
damage an artist’s career, she says. “Just look at the difference between the
highest amount paid for a living female artist, and a living male artist – it’s
huge.”
Although
there is “an amazing roll-call of women artists” in Britain, Blazwick says that
there are not enough role models for young women. “There should be more women
leading things, in visible positions, doing all the marvellous things they do
as politicians, scientists, and artists, of course.”
Which
brings us to the rumours of her potential next career move: taking over from
Serota at Tate. “Hmm,” Blazwick says, stifling a groan. “People always ask
that, which is very flattering. It’s very nice to be considered to have the
possibility of following in such great footsteps because Nick is a phenomenon
and something of a mentor for us all. What he’s done is quite extraordinary.
But I don’t think he’s leaving any time soon.”
Besides, such a prominent position may not suit Blazwick, who has a habit of criticising politicians’ attitude to the arts. The most animated she becomes during our conversation is on the subject of arts funding. “There is a fear among politicians about culture. They think it’s not a vote winner, but I beg to differ,” she says.
At the
heart of it, she believes, is a failure to recognise how essential creativity
and ideas are to the economy. “We have a proven connection between any kind of
creative industry, innovation and prosperity,” she says, banging her palm on
the table. “Who made Apple great? A kid from Central Saint Martins School of
Art and Design. If you give people access to an art education it makes them
self-reliant, entrepreneurial, innovative, and that’s where the future lies. We
have to have the arts. We ignore it and underfund it at our peril.”
A
successful curator, rather like a successful artist, must live and breathe the
job, and Blazwick is rarely “off”. She admits that even on holiday she finds it
impossible not to go to see art (she tells me she was recently in Vancouver,
where she saw two “transformative” exhibitions on Chinese art). “And I
always have a suitcase full of magazines I haven’t got round to reading all
year,” she says, laughing. “My heaven is sitting on a plane with Art Forum and
Frieze.”
It may be
a world of international travel, larger-than-life personalities and glamorous
parties, but Blazwick says there is no question what her favourite part of the
job is. “Spending time with the artist, understanding where they come from,
what influences them, everything from the quality of light, to what they’ve got
stuck up on the walls in the studio, to the materials they’re using and the
social and political context in which they’re working,” she says.
“That and
actually installing the work – that’s the cherry on the cake, because the rest
of it is admin and finances, which can be exhausting. The moment when you’re in
the space with the artist and the work of art, there is nothing like that.”
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