Creating in a World in Crisis: Luxury or Necessity?

At the last art fair I took part in, one observation was on everyone's lips: the art market is going through a tough time. Between political uncertainty, an unstable economy and a fast-paced consumer society, art is now often seen as a non-essential luxury. In many homes, it no longer has a place among the “useful” expenses. And yet…

When the world closes in, art fades, or resists

The general trend is clear: we consume fast, we throw away, we move on. The ephemeral rules. Art, on the other hand, asks for time: time to be looked at, felt, understood. It moves at a different pace. And in a period dominated by collective stress, instability and doubt, buying a work of art is often put off until “later”. But that “later” keeps being postponed, and sometimes never comes.

Yet while art does not cure a crisis, it can help us get through it. It sheds light. It connects. It soothes. It questions. And often, it says what words no longer know how to say.

The artist: quiet guide or marginal voice?

So what is the artist's place in all this? Creating in spite of everything can feel like a gentle act of resistance. We must keep offering meaning, poetry, light, even when the echo does not come back straight away.

But the economic reality is there, and it is relentless. No, we do not create to get rich. But yes, we still have to make a living. Materials to buy, a studio to pay for, travel, exhibitions, a website, prints, communication… The artist who does not sell, or sells too little, lives in a painful tension: how do you keep feeding a calling while carrying, at arm's length, a practice that struggles to exist in public?

So what do we do? We adapt. We diversify. And often, we doubt. But we carry on, because creating is not a choice, it is a need.

A market paradox: luxury art for tax purposes

Here is another paradox. While many artists struggle to sell a single canvas, another corner of the market is thriving. Very expensive works, bought by companies or collectors through leasing or tax-saving schemes, feed a form of artistic speculation.

Tax benefits are not the problem in themselves; they can even be a positive lever. But an essential question arises:

What really triggers the purchase of a work of art? The emotion we feel in front of it… or the promise of a tax deduction?

When art becomes a safe haven, an investment product or a financial tool, what is left of the artist's original impulse, and of that fragile, sensitive bond between a work and the person looking at it?

What if art were… vital?

Despite all this, I remain convinced of one thing: art is a silent necessity. It does not save an economy. It does not feed a family. But it feeds the soul. And in a shaken world, where we sometimes lose our bearings, art is one of the few places where beauty, slowness and depth still have a place.

Creating in a world in crisis is not a luxury, it is an act of faith. Faith in people. Faith in the power of a work, small or large, humble or grand, to touch, to reveal, to awaken.

So I keep creating. And I know I am not alone.

This need for slowness and depth has stayed with me since; it is also why I later chose to slow down to meet you better. If you want to see what I keep creating, my interactive catalogue is always open.

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With all my warmth,

Lenon B

Contemporary painter, Ericeira, Portugal