The artist. A brilliant, impractical eccentric; unable to make money, or look after it when they do, and, of course, if truly great, never to be appreciated in their own lifetime. What absolute rubbish.
The idea that true artists only come to be fully acknowledged once they are no longer around is, of course, a myth — the Bohemian myth, as it is known, sprang up in Paris in the mid-Nineteenth Century, and is often quoted as criticism of some of the more laughable creations that pass for art today.
But just when has this been true? Indeed, just when have any of the stereotypes that make up an artist been true? With notable exceptions, the professional artist has, throughout time, been just as much a professional as anyone else. For example, the Bellinis of Venice were all artists by trade, a trade passed from father to son just as with any other at that time.
Perhaps, you might say, the problem comes later, at a time when people are trying to make their way as an artist in life and finding no success. It is still hard to think of anyone (excluding van Gogh) who is now appreciated but was not welcomed by critics during their life. William Blake maybe? Yet he sold well in his own lifetime, even if he did not achieve the ‘national treasure’ status endowed upon him today.
And then we have the modern day; it is perhaps most odd that this myth prevails when, now more than ever, artists are a part of the establishment and often an entirely commercial commodity. The idea that modern art is somehow avant garde when Tracy Emin was selected to represent Britain at the 2007 Venice Biennale, is clearly preposterous. These figures are well and truly within the establishment and, of course, making a tidy profit out of it.
But where did this quite evident myth actually stem from? The answer surely lies in the publication of Henri Murger’s 1851 novel Scènes de la vie de bohème, a collection of stories romanticising the ‘bohemian’ lifestyle, with a semi-autobiographical thrust.
Murger perhaps encapsulated the word bohemian: a poverty-stricken writer, living in a garret room in Paris. Of course, to appear to be living this lifestyle became fashionable. But the stories proved incredibly popular and Murger received the Légion d’honneur, the highest decoration in France. The theme of la bohème has gone on to inspire operas, plays and a whole host of other works, and has planted itself firmly in the public psyche.
Of course, many great artists go undiscovered, but the idea that a life lived unnoticed and in poverty is itself a necessity or qualifier for a great artist profile is one that traces itself easily to the back streets of 19th Century Paris and a highly romanticised – and one must admit, appealing – idea of the true bohemian genius.
