Art Online: Bridging Worlds? Or Faking It?
Art used to be restricted to private parlors of the privileged, guarded estates, and quiet galleries. One had to cross cultural, financial, and physical barriers in order to experience art. It was a custom based on gatekeeping, exclusivity, and presence. However, I'm happy to report that era is giving way to something new. Something drastic. Something electronic.
(If you'd like to skip all the reading - head on over to my Online Art Gallery at Saatchi Art, and discover your next greatest art collectable!)
Online art has a lot of power, in my opinion.
As the creator of The Lady Isabel Foundation and The Houseof Caelthorne, I have always believed that art can serve as a bridge to connect
people who may never meet in person but who can understand one another through
beauty. When I started my fulltime art career, I thought my pieces would hang in physical
places of worship, such as museums, spiritual sanctuaries, or even ancestral
homes. However, I quickly realized that I had to look beyond the frame if I
wanted to uphold the values of accessibility, dignity, and international
discourse.
Adopting the digital world was necessary for that.
My work now reaches people I may never have met, from collectors in Los Angeles to academics in Paris, from up-and-coming curators in New York to young aspirants in Cape Town, thanks to websites like SAATCHI ART. They don't need to be allowed to enter exclusive circles or fly across oceans. They only require a screen, curiosity, and a connection. That's liberation to me.
(Chromatic Symbolism dominate my latest artworks. Curious? Have a look here: Online Art Gallery)
Online art is more than just a fad. It is a potent
development of how We are creative. It's also an opportunity for artists like
me, who produce with strong cultural and emotional intentions, to take
ownership of the story. African voices have far too frequently been selected by
outsiders and filtered through frameworks that are insensitive to our codes,
our joys, and our sorrows. However, I can create my own captions on the
internet. I am able to explain the meanings behind the artworks. As I
create community, I can create context.
I can still clearly remember the first time a collector
contacted me on Instagram after spotting a preview of one of my early pieces.
Her home was in Chicago. According to her, the picture "felt like her
grandmother's prayers." She eventually bought the piece after we talked
and shared. Not due to a recommendation from a gallery. Not due to the support
of a critic. But because she was in need and the work found her online.
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| A screenshot of the artwork: "Divine Ambiguity" Mixed-Media on Fabriano Size: A2 Unframed |
Online art has the advantage of allowing for serendipity.
Of course, there have been difficulties associated with the
shift to digital spaces. Online environments can be noisy, disorganized, and
even confusing. Nuance is rarely rewarded by algorithms. Many times, visibility
feels like a fight against saturation. But I've found clarity in this chaos.
I've discovered my people—those who look for art as conversation rather than
decoration. People who find comfort in color, empowerment in truth, and healing
in abstraction.
Without the internet, this would not have been feasible. Without the democratization of art, it would not have been feasible.
There is no comparison to seeing a piece in person,
according to some. I also think that standing in front of a canvas and taking
in its size, texture, and aura has a sacred quality. Online art, however,
provides something different. It provides closeness. Time. Introspection. the
capacity to go back to a piece, spend time alone with it, and repeatedly
reexamine its meaning. It builds a private cathedral of visual thought, a
personal archive.
Some of my very personal pieces speaks to this. Have a look at them and others on my Instagram Profile
I take into account not only how the
piece will appear on a wall but also how it will feel in a digital setting. I
consider rhythm, language, and lighting. Carefully, I curate. Because I am
aware that someone is waiting on the other side of the screen, waiting to be
remembered, to be understood, to be moved.
The ownership that comes with online art also has a lot of
power. Institutions and conventional gatekeepers no longer need to give me
permission to express my opinions. I can share my mistakes, chronicle my
progress, and acknowledge my successes. I can track the development of my craft
in real time, elevate the forgotten, and archive the invisible.
More significantly, I can extend an invitation to do the
same. I have seen a silent revolution by collectors discovering digital exhibitions, young artists
reaching international markets without ever setting foot in a traditional
gallery, and communities that were previously marginalized by the art world now
finding a place to call home.
We aren't waiting for a table seat anymore. We are creating
new tables, ones that are purpose-driven even though they are composed of brushstrokes, pencil lines, charcoal dust, in spots, oil dripping and even pixels.
There are some fantastic Contemporary African Art Prints available at The Lady Isabel Foundation online gallery.
This is more than just a practical change, in my opinion.
It's a philosophical one. It reinterprets the purpose of art. It declares that
healing, beauty, and meaning are human rights, not extravagances. And they
ought to be accessible to everyone, irrespective of passport or postcode.
I hope that as you're reading this, and ever questioned
whether art online is “less real”, that you will still see that my work you see on
this screen was born of pain, of faith and of love. My hands created it, using
memory as a guide and inspiration from my past and current experiences. It is as heavy as any
piece in a museum, if not heavier. since it was designed to get to you. No
matter where you are.
And we are linked to that.
Let the work do the talking. I hope it stirs. I hope it finds a place in your life, on your wall, or in your heart, I hope it gets to touch your soul.
