What is happening to the art market? A phenomenon that can be called "polarization"

There is a paradox running through the contemporary art market, a dichotomy that pulses like a raw nerve between international fairs and small ateliers, between million-dollar auctions and neighborhood exhibitions. It is growing polarization-a phenomenon in which the market fragments between a few dominant giants and a landscape of artists and galleries increasingly on the margins. This dynamic is not new, but our present, marked by economic inequalities and technological revolutions, amplifies it with a brutality that cannot be ignored.

The art market has always had an elitist heart. In the past, the patronage of noble families and religious institutions dictated the fortunes of artists, binding them to a hierarchical system in which creativity was subordinate to power. The Renaissance, despite its reputation as a glorious era for art, was a closed game: artists depended on the favors of a few influential patrons, and access to the market was limited to an economic and cultural elite. With the advent of modernity, and particularly with the rise of galleries and auction houses in the nineteenth century, one might think that the system had become more democratic. But in reality, even then, the art market was dominated by mechanisms that rewarded a select few names, while the vast majority of artists struggled for survival. If we return to the present, we find that this dynamic has intensified in unforeseen ways. The global art market today is increasingly focused on a handful of names and institutions. Artists like Jeff Koons, Yayoi Kusama or Gerhard Richter have become not just cultural phenomena but real industries, supported by a network of “mega-dealer” galleries like Gagosian, Hauser & Wirth and David Zwirner. This small pantheon of stars monopolizes media and financial attention, leaving very little room for those who do not belong.

On the other side, however, we find a myriad of independent artists and galleries struggling to emerge in an increasingly competitive ecosystem. This polarization is not only economic but symbolic: on one side, art as extreme luxury; on the other, art as creative survival.

Art fairs and auctions have become the new epicenters of this polarization. Events such as Art Basel or Frieze represent the culmination of market spectacle: high-profile galleries exhibiting works by already anointed artists, while wealthy collectors compete to buy the most desirable pieces. Auctions, meanwhile, have turned into veritable spectacles. The sale of a Banksy work, self-destructed in real time during an auction at Sotheby’s, symbolized this theatricality, where the value of a work is inflated not so much by its artistic significance as by its ability to generate attention.

But in this triumph of capital, who is left out? Emerging artists often do not have access to these platforms. Medium-sized galleries, which once represented the backbone of the market, struggle to compete with the giants. This increasing concentration of power raises a fundamental question: who decides today what is art and what deserves to be seen?

If we compare this situation with the past, disturbing similarities but also crucial differences emerge. In the modern era, avant-garde movements such as Surrealism or Abstract Expressionism often developed outside established systems of power, finding space thanks to visionary figures such as Peggy Guggenheim or Gertrude Stein. Today, however, market pressures make it increasingly difficult for outsiders to gain visibility without aligning themselves with dominant mechanisms.

At one time, the market developed around specific centers, such as Paris and New York, which functioned as incubators of creativity. Today, the market is globalized, but this globalization has not necessarily brought greater inclusiveness. The big fairs are dominated by the same galleries and the same names, regardless of their geographic context. Technology, in theory, could have democratized the art market. Online platforms, social media, and even the controversial NFTs have provided new opportunities for artists to reach a global audience. Yet, polarization manifests itself here as well. Algorithms reward those who already have visibility, and digital platforms, while breaking down some barriers, create new ones related to overexposure and market saturation.

The polarization of the art market is a lens through which we can observe the broader dynamics of our society: the centralization of wealth, the spectacularization of culture and the marginalization of everything that does not produce immediate economic returns. However, to stop at a simple critique would be reductive. The crucial question is not only how to counter polarization, but how to rethink the very value of art in such a stratified context. If the market betrays art’s mission, that of generating new visions, of representing human experience in all its complexity, then it is up to us, as curators, critics, collectors and viewers, to reaffirm what is essential. This does not mean rejecting the market, but questioning it. For whom do we create exhibitions? For whom do exhibitions exist? Can we imagine a market in which the value of a work is measured not only in economic terms, but in terms of cultural transformation?

The answers may lie in the creation of parallel ecosystems. Independent curatorial projects, artist residencies, non-commercial or digital spaces can become places where art regains an authentic and dialogic dimension. Technology, often perceived as a unifying force, can instead be used critically, to connect disparate voices, to break down geographic and cultural barriers, and to construct new narratives that escape the logic of profit.

But, more than anything else, an ethical reformulation is needed. We must ask ourselves: what responsibility do we, as members of the art community, have to future generations? If art is a witness to our time, we cannot allow it to reflect only inequality and exclusion. We need a collective vision, a return to the idea that art never belongs only to those who own or fund it, but to all who engage with it.

Polarization, as disturbing as it is, is also an opportunity to rethink. In this gap between elite and margins, between lavish fairs and ignored ateliers, a space for a new cultural ethic opens up. In a world that seems increasingly dominated by concentration, the challenge is to recreate spaces of inclusivity and experimentation. Because art, ultimately, is not just a market: it is a language, a dream, a rebellion.

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