Where to put the comma in the title? Are we supposed to understand and love contemporary art?

If we don't particularly like contemporary art, does this indicate our poor level of artistic perception and bad taste? Should we be upset about it?

Contemporary art continues to remain one of the most polarizing phenomena in culture. The term "contemporary art" is often artificially narrowed, turned into an elitist code understood only by the initiated.
Some see it as relevant trends, discoveries, reflections of the era; others see incomprehensible objects, strange concepts created for a select few.

Why does this happen? The answer lies in the complex interplay of issues in contemporary philosophy, aesthetics, economics, and the institutional mechanisms that govern the world of art today.

Artistic mastery and the ability to create powerful imagery may give way to the mastery of creating concepts, provocations, or engaging in discourse. Many phenomena of contemporary art lead us away from the aesthetics of harmony into the realm of ideas, conceptualism, and individual statements beyond the beautiful.
Daring ideas, provocation, and elaborate concepts become the main currency in art markets.
But a legitimate question arises: is this "currency" always backed by genuine artistic value, or merely by the ability to play by the rules of the art system?

The contemporary art market operates under a multi-layered system that determines the "significance" of an artwork and the significance of the artist.

1. Institutions (museums, biennales, foundations) act as "priests," whose consecration (exhibitions, acquisitions) grants the artist legitimacy and significance. Their choice—curatorial, ideological, sometimes political—gives the artist a ticket into history.
2. The market (galleries, auctions, major collectors) transforms this legitimacy into a financial asset, creating demand and trends. At the same time, influential gallerists, art dealers, and renowned collectors also act as consecrators of the artists they choose.
Major galleries and art dealers shape prices and promote "their" artists at international fairs and auctions.
Auction houses (Christie's, Sotheby's, and others) create trends and records, turning art into a highly liquid asset.
High-net-worth collectors—their names often determine whose work will be investment-attractive.
3. Theorists and critics create the artistic language and narrative into which one must fit for one's statement to be considered relevant.
Intermediaries (gallerists, art dealers, critics) create the legend. They write texts, organize exhibitions, shape demand and, importantly, the price tag. Their task is not simply to sell a work but to convince the world of its historical necessity.

This mechanism functions as a self-regulating system where commercial success often precedes cultural recognition.
Contemporary museums, foundations, and biennales do indeed possess the power to "consecrate" artists. When a work enters the collection of the Tate Modern, the Centre Pompidou, or MoMA, its status changes irrevocably. Institutions act as a filter, selecting from the stream of works those that align with current discourse.

However, this process is often subject to criticism: curatorial choices are frequently dictated not so much by artistic qualities as by institutional politics, fashionable theories, or even personal connections.
So, do institutions and intermediaries make artists significant? Alas, often—yes. They create a context in which the work begins to "speak" the right language. An artist without this support risks remaining a voice crying in the wilderness. But here lies the main contradiction: significant for the system does not always mean brilliant for the viewer.
An artist can become "significant" without being widely recognized by the public—solely through the support of influential intermediaries.
The main battle today unfolds not in artists' studios but in the space between sincere perception and artificially constructed systems of significance.

Many phenomena in contemporary art consciously move away from classical aesthetics and harmony into the realm of individual gestures, political statements, or pure conceptualism.
In classical art, a unique perspective on the world and mastery of execution were often the main criteria. Today, concept often prevails over technical perfection: idea, context, and statement are more valuable than mastery.
This does not mean that mastery has disappeared—it has transformed. Installation, performance, and digital art require different skills: working with space, time, technologies, and social processes.
The problem arises when the idea becomes a self-sufficient justification for a lack of depth, or when the complexity of a concept serves as a screen for artistic weakness.

How should we engage with contemporary art? It does not always require "love" in the traditional sense—rather, engagement, a readiness for dialogue, and an acceptance that art can provoke, unsettle, and ask uncomfortable questions.

Contemporary art is worth:

• Perceiving as a dialogue with the era, where not only answers but also questions matter.
• Studying the context—many works reveal themselves through an understanding of cultural, political, or social references.
• Trusting one's own perception while remaining open to new languages of expression.
• Remembering that behind loud names and high prices there is always lived human experience—of the artist, the viewer, and society.

Many viewers struggle to understand abstract and conceptual works, finding them meaningless or superficial. Yet it is precisely in such art that a particular philosophy is hidden, reflecting the author's deep reflections on the world and society.
It requires careful study and contemplation, offering the viewer a unique opportunity to see the world differently, to expand the boundaries of their own consciousness, and to experience new emotional states.
It is important to remember that art exists not only for entertainment but also for deep self-awareness and understanding of surrounding reality. Openness to new experiences will enrich one's inner world and allow one to enjoy the diversity of artistic expressions.
However, given the significant role of money and influence in the art market, it is important to critically evaluate the standards of beauty and significance being offered. Genuine art should inspire and evoke an authentic reaction, whether admiration or rejection.

Contemporary art is a mirror reflecting the complexity of our world with its contradictions, technologies, globalization, and search for identity.
It is governed by the market and institutions, but its true power lies in its ability to speak about our time.
Whether to love it or not is a personal choice. But denying its significance means refusing to try to understand the era in which we live.
Art today is not only objects on walls but also a process in which everyone can participate: doubting, admiring, criticizing, or discovering new meanings.
It is precisely in this possibility of dialogue that its main value lies.

Is there a possible trend toward a kind of "anti-conceptualism"—a return to the original, almost sacred function of art: not to deconstruct and comment, but to reveal?
"To share one's vision of the world, its overwhelming mysticism, and the unnoticed aesthetics of being… The possibility of glimpsing beyond visible reality."
In this approach, art is not a puzzle for intellectuals but a guide. It offers not an idea for discussion, but an experience for immersion. This "path" leads not to the curator's answer but into the depths of one's own perception, to "sensations beyond the edge of ordinary reality."
This is art that speaks the language of harmony, mystery, and the unsaid, not the language of manifestos. And it is undoubtedly contemporary, for it responds to the eternal human longing for the transcendent.

So, should we understand and love contemporary art? And if we don't like it, does this indicate bad taste?
No. Absolutely not.

The sense of taste and aesthetic perception are indeed talents, unique to each individual. By developing your ability to perceive harmony and your aesthetic intelligence, you can become an excellent connoisseur of artworks and cultural codes, perceive the surrounding world more subtly, and make your life more harmonious, full, refined, and enriched.
But this talent is your own compass, not an instruction from art managers.
If a work, consecrated by the full might of institutions and beloved by critics, leaves you indifferent or provokes rejection, this is not your failure, nor evidence of "bad taste." It is an indication that there is no resonance between your inner world and the work's message, and that your internal criterion of evaluation did not align with the system's criterion.

So, where should we put the comma in the title? Perhaps the wisest option is not to put it at all, leaving the question open.
"You can't help but love contemporary art"—taken as a single phrase where the decision is born within each of us.
We cannot ignore it as a phenomenon, but we have every right to establish our own personal, selective relationship with it.

Do not be upset if you have made attempts to understand a certain artwork, yet it remains incomprehensible and unappealing to you. You should only be upset if you abandon your own feelings in favor of imposed authorities. Authentic art is an encounter, a dialogue.
If a work remains silent for you, despite your attempt at dialogue, perhaps it simply speaks a different language, or perhaps it has nothing to say to you.

The debate over contemporary art has long ceased to be a debate about aesthetics—it is a debate about power. The power to determine what is important, what is valuable, and what even counts as art. And in this debate, our right to the personal comma is an act of intellectual freedom.

Any authentic art that resonates in a person's soul here and now is contemporary. Because true contemporaneity lies not in the date of creation but in the ability to speak to us today. And the right to choose with whom to conduct this dialogue belongs only to you.

It is unlikely that every person, even those well-known and revered by a particular community, can become a good friend to you or be interesting to you, or become someone close to you. The same can be said about artworks and art trends. What is significant for others, even "consecrated" by authoritative communities, need not necessarily be significant for you.

Do not strive to love everything that is imposed on you as "significant." Strive to find your own—that which makes you stop, pause, and feel the excitement of encountering another, larger, extraordinary world. Or like meeting an amazing, understanding friend you have long been seeking. Or like a brilliant intellectual interlocutor who reveals to you unexpected sides and mysteries of the world, showing you hidden paths.

Do not perceive the encounter with an artwork as a necessity to conform to social trends, but rather as an opportunity—an opportunity for your own small, personal miracle.

— Alexander Galyatsky