Inertia, Fragmentation, and the Crisis of Transmission
Contemporary art finds itself in a peculiar condition. It has no unifying movement, no shared language, no common aspiration toward transcendence. Artists are siloed, discourse is hyper-specialized, and the market often rewards novelty more than depth.
The public, meanwhile, is voting with its feet. Many museums have still not fully recovered their pre-pandemic attendance, and exhibitions requiring heavy conceptual mediation often recover more slowly than narrative-driven or classical shows. On social media, videos mocking the opacity of contemporary art attract millions of views. This is not merely fringe cynicism; it is a symptom.
From your vantage point—inside a museum dedicated to a figure who spent his career outside the turbulent mainstream—how do you understand this condition? Is it part of a natural cycle, a historical exhaustion, or something else?
Dmitry Popov:
Of course, I am aware of the decline in attendance at many art museums following the COVID-19 lockdowns. What is more surprising is that the popularity of our museum has increased significantly, especially among New Yorkers themselves.
It is as though many people rushed to embrace something they had long overlooked. To me, it seemed they were thirsting for transcendence—for spiritual peace, tranquility, and the contemplation of pure beauty.
As for contemporary art, I largely agree with the instincts of ordinary viewers. Art is ultimately made for people, and they are under no obligation to admire something simply because they are told it is important.
They have every right to respond to works according to the actual impression those works make upon them.
Artists, critics, and curators are equally entitled to offer their interpretations. But the final judgment belongs to the public.
The human mind—consciously or unconsciously—strives for transcendence. It is not naturally inclined to accept primitive nonsense as profundity.
One may declare everything obscure to be profound, but that does not oblige anyone else to agree.
It is the old story of the emperor’s new clothes.
Let me give you an example from Museum of Modern Art, a museum I sincerely love. Almost everything that happens there interests me, but not everything gives me joy or the feeling of encountering real art. Much of it can seem more like an amusing game than visual art in the deeper sense.
I believe New York greatly needs a small, conceptually coherent museum devoted to truly transcendent contemporary art—a place where people could discover that contemporary creation is not limited to pseudo-intellectual experiment, but can still produce genuine works that resonate in the heart and enter into dialogue with consciousness.
I also believe this city deeply needs a museum of Native American art.
On the one hand, Native American art is rooted in the ancient history of this continent. On the other, many Native artists also engage modern and contemporary forms. The result is a distinctive body of work that unites ancestral depth with modern invention across numerous schools, movements, and styles.
This is an important current within contemporary art.
I know many American, Canadian, and even Japanese artists whose work has been inspired by Native traditions. That is no accident, but a phenomenon worthy of deeper study.
More broadly, our great cities—especially those that are also global cultural destinations—are in need of small, atmospheric, conceptually thoughtful museums such as the Nicholas Roerich Museum, the Noguchi Museum, and the Marlene Yu Museum.
People are limited in how much information and emotional intensity they can meaningfully absorb in a given span of time. In vast museums, impressions can blur into an almost meaningless accumulation unless visitors develop a clear path of attention.
In smaller museums, curators often help shape that path for them.
Finally, in an ideal situation, museums should also help support emerging artists. Alongside thematic exhibitions, they should present solo shows by young talents at the beginning of their journey.
And it is wonderful when a museum includes not only a gift shop, but a true gallery space—one that helps artists practically, while allowing people to bring authentic works of art into their homes. That is something fundamentally different from even the finest poster.
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