The political role of the artist is never neutral. Whether they want it or not, their social position and aesthetic choices reflect an engagement, conscious or unconscious, in the life of the community. Becoming aware of it and defining it allows for better execution of cultural projects at all levels.
What is an artist’s purpose? How do they see themselves in the social space? What political place do they occupy in the world? And for that matter, should an artist even have a political role in the world?
Some artists argue, for example, that their work is purely aesthetic, aiming for plastic, theatrical, or musical perfection, and that they have no interest in political considerations, declaring themselves entirely apolitical. That is their perspective. But in reality, an artist—for instance, a classical composer who claims to have no political concerns—will still want their music to be played and heard by as many people as possible. They will thus seek to enter the system of cultural hierarchy, whether in the commercial or public sector, to gain recognition, be published, performed, broadcast, and potentially make a living. In doing so, the artist who believed they were not politically engaged finds themselves, in fact, in the unconscious but very clear political engagement of bourgeois reproduction. By focusing solely on their artistic output without considering the criteria for their work’s social inscription—yet still expecting validation within a hierarchical system—they are de facto adopting a political stance.
One might argue that I am making a somewhat hasty judgment, but this is precisely the role of sociology: to explore the underlying forces and issues in which human beings are entangled within society, often without being aware of it themselves.
I believe—and this is the point of this article—that it is important for an artist to be more conscious of their positioning. This is useful, first, for their own well-being and for finding their rightful place in the world as they envision it, and second, for contributing to shaping the future of the artistic and cultural sector. Cultural choices and policies, whether public or private, will be influenced by artists who are more clearly positioned, thereby enabling institutions to evolve. The world of art and culture is one of interaction between different actors, and each has their part to play—including artists.
I am not saying that all artists must absolutely become aware of their social role, but I do think those who do so are very useful to others and to the future of culture’s essential function. We have all observed that culture was deemed non-essential during the Covid period, even though cultural practices, via digital means, were the primary glue that allowed human beings to continue existing as humans, as part of a social group.
Take the example of a visual artist who absolutely wants their work to be displayed in public spaces. Without realizing it, they embody values of cultural democratization. They may wish, like Jean Dubuffet, for their works to be visible, accessible, and emotionally comprehensible to all. In the very forms of their art, there will be a desire for accessibility—which is absolutely not demagoguery but an artistically demanding approach.
Take another example: an artist who only creates participatory performances, conducts residencies in neighborhoods, co-writes plays with residents, and performs in their homes. This artist allows themselves to be transformed by the context in which they are situated, listening to the cultures of the people they work with. They create spaces of exchange from which artistically rigorous works emerge. Here, we are truly in an approach of cultural democracy, supported by cultural rights.
In these three models of artists I have just described, we can clearly see three different political stances. I am not ranking them—that is not the point here. But I do think it is useful to clarify these positions.
Take the case of live performance: cultural policies place significant pressure on art and culture to reach as many “audiences” as possible. Many artists, for example in theater, experience this demand as a constraint they are uncomfortable with. They are required to do a certain number of hours of cultural outreach, engage with audiences, run workshops for children, etc., and they resent it. I have even heard some artists refer to it as “community service for culture”... On the other hand, some artists are very comfortable with these cultural activities and find great pleasure—and above all, meaning—in them as part of their artistic work.
This is a legitimate political obligation, but for artists who are not at ease with it, it is unfortunate—both for them and for the people they interact with, who can sense that it is forced. Unintentionally, these artists convey class disdain based on very crude cultural criteria. They address people they are not genuinely interested in, and due to lack of time, they present them with a performance or a brief experience before or after the show. Many artists feel uncomfortable in these interaction frameworks, sensing they are caught in a system of postcolonial domination, of which they are the agents—if only by the color of their skin and that of the people they address.
Conversely, some artists would prefer to simply do their show, acknowledging that it is aimed at bourgeois audiences. Why not? There’s nothing wrong with that. Other artists, however, feel at ease with improvisation and rich exchanges with audiences, conducting long residencies in neighborhoods, businesses, or social structures. They collaborate with people, take an interest in others, share their culture, and move toward artistic creations that embody a deep sense of connection. These artists do not feel comfortable with the “grand” performance or the perfect aesthetic object demanded of them in theater. They would rather spend all their time improvising with people. The problem is that for these social actions to take place, they need the legitimization of the “real” show to which people will be brought. These artists are clearly engaged in cultural democracy, supported by texts on cultural rights—which are official in France—but they cannot fully be artists in the way they wish.
I raise this issue because I believe that, for both sides, if we were clearer about our diverse artistic postures and positions, we could construct future contexts for the dissemination of art and culture that are more conducive to the emancipation of the people we address, as well as of artists and cultural system facilitators.
One might argue that the French cultural democratization system is precisely designed to give access to people who would otherwise never have encountered “legitimate” culture. There are examples of individuals who, thanks to this system, have risen from their initial class to attain other sociocultural levels. It is the same republican project as that of schools, which claim to enable people to escape their original class and ascend the republican sociocultural hierarchy through democratic access to knowledge. This is true, but it concerns only a tiny minority—those who succeed in conforming to the codes of the bourgeois domination system. For the majority who do not fit these codes, school is a system of social exclusion, an extremely clear, effective, and brutal segregation. It does not operate with goodwill, as the selection criteria reflect extremely narrow visions of intelligence and human competence. Unfortunately, this is what the school system produces, despite all the good intentions of educators.
In the organization of public culture in France, the same process occurs: for the few who may access another social class, the majority of young people forced into cultural institutions will be permanently put off and will have understood very well that these places will never welcome them with open arms. Thus, these people are excluded from the system.
I know some will immediately object to what I am asserting here, arguing that there are only good intentions and that it is easy to dismiss the goodwill of professionals. But I do not wish to dismiss any intentions. I simply want to clarify that art and culture operate within social frameworks, and we must not be hypocritical about this. It seems useful to me to position ourselves more clearly within these social systems so that everyone can find their rightful place, their emancipation, and so that public policies can evolve in line with the objectives set by law. I am speaking here of an evaluation of policy outcomes, focusing on the role of artists and how they perceive themselves.
I am also not saying that all artists must engage in deep political reflection. But artists have a role to play, because the artistic and cultural system is made up of all these actors, and artists obviously have their full part in it. Even if some do not wish to engage in these reflections, the fact that others do will undoubtedly benefit everyone.
The question I am posing, then, is that of the artist’s role today. In other words, what does it mean to be an artist nowadays, and how should one position oneself? Should one focus on aesthetic issues or political ones—that is, on the life of the community?
When we speak of the quality of works, we often adopt a purely aesthetic perspective, in the manner of Malraux. However, it is important to recognize that some artists wish to explore other dimensions but feel constrained by this aesthetic-centered legitimization.
We could envision a “relational aesthetic” or a “political aesthetic,” where the aesthetic criterion is redefined in terms of human and social relations, seen as a form of art. Referencing John Dewey (Art as Experience), we can truly imagine a shift in the definition of aesthetics toward a new anthropology of art—just as the discipline of design has moved beyond the object to focus on experiences (now at the heart of modern industries, with UX Design or experience design).
My multidisciplinary practices—spanning creation, cultural action, training, and support in a wide range of cultural, social, and educational contexts across France—provide me with a privileged, subjective, and in-depth observatory of the cultural sector in France.
This sector is weakened by its position, often deemed “non-essential” by many political leaders, by the competition from digital platforms in cultural practices, as well as by challenges and obstacles related to the difficulty of establishing interdisciplinary collaborations and the scarcity of evaluations, which are often poorly conducted and instrumentalized.
My observatory allows me to identify dynamics that work, as well as difficulties I observe. Here, I propose to share my analyses, methods, and suggestions, hoping they may prove useful. My goal is to contribute to a stronger cultural sector in the future, as I believe that defending a cultural sector funded by taxpayers’ money holds the potential for emancipation, the development of freedoms, democracy, and the capacity to act—in a way that is fundamentally different from what private actors produce.
This is possible if there is no hypocrisy, and in my view, it comes at the cost of a commitment to lucidity and self-questioning, a choice to deconstruct representations, and perhaps to challenge certain privileges and systems of domination.