Marina Abramović Is Not An Artist: On the Social Contract of Artistic Recognition, and the Only Way To Lose That Recognition

March 12, 2026 | #44

I was working on an assignment for an art history course, and we were covering Marina Abramović. We watched her documentary, "Marina Abramović: The Artist is Present," and then we watched an interview with her. Needless to say, I was upset. I opted to not work on the relevant assignment and instead wrote this essay.

When I first watched the documentary, Marina Abramović: The Artist is Present, I came away with a deep love and respect for Marina Abramović. Her work connected with the most chaotic parts of myself that I rarely find acknowledged. However, after watching a later interview in which she discussed her journey into the realm of Virtual Reality, that admiration quickly turned into abhorrence. Early in the interview, Abramović suggests that new forms of digital media are not yet art, and that context, (such as being created or presented in a gallery), can determine whether something is art at all. Her exact words were, "Every week there's new devices, but what they're showing us with these devices is not art. It's not art yet." She emphasized the “yet” and gave a sly smirk. It’s clear that she thinks that, in the year 2018, she is going to create the first ever piece of digital art. She also implies that because she is an artist, and has always been an artist from the moment she burst forth from her mothers womb, what she creates must be understood as art. These claims point us toward a question. Who has the authority to define art, and on what basis? While some artists argue that art is defined by context and artistic identity, this view breaks a broader social contract of mutual recognition among creators. If an artist denies the legitimacy of other forms of creative expression, they undermine the shared framework that allows their own work to be considered art.

A social contract is not a written agreement, but an implicit understanding that allows a system to function, and they exist in all systems that require humans to function. In the case of art, this contract is simple and fundamental: if you expect your work to be recognized as art, you must recognize the legitimacy of other forms of creative expression as art. This does not mean all works are equal in (subjective) quality or impact (which is a little more objective), but it does mean that no single artist has the authority to exclude entire pieces, mediums, or modes of expression from the category altogether. The category of “art” exists only because it is collectively upheld. It is not owned by institutions, nor defined by individuals. It is sustained only through mutual recognition.

Abramović’s statements violate this contract in two key ways.

First, when she suggests that a loaf of bread is not art in a bakery but becomes art in a gallery, she places authority not in the existence of the object, but in the institution that frames it. This implies that art can be switched on or off depending on context. (I can’t help but wonder if she considers her virtual reality game to be art only when it is presented in a gallery, or also when it is played in apartments all over the world, which is 99.99999999% of the time that it is being played.) If art exists independently, then context can only influence interpretation, not existence. The bread does not change when it is moved into a gallery, only our expectations and the audience do. To claim otherwise is to suggest that art is defined only by where it is permitted to exist.

Second, and more critically, Abramović asserts artistic authority based on identity. By implying that what she creates is art because she is an artist, while simultaneously dismissing emerging or digital forms as “not yet art,” she creates a hierarchy in which recognition flows in only one direction. To say that what she makes is art, because she is an artist, but the bread is not art, and the implication that nothing digital has been art prior to her involvement, means that she is claiming outright that these people are not, and cannot be artists. This is not simply a matter of preference or critique. It is a denial of legitimacy.

If an artist works her day job as a bread baker, does she get to call her bread art even if it’s made in a bakery? Does the bakery become a gallery? If a baker doesn’t identify as an artist, but bakes bread in a gallery, is it art? Does she become an artist by default? These are all needlessly trivial questions that are a paradox created by Abramović’s assertions.

This connects to the so-called “Paradox of Tolerance” in society. It is a perfect example of why this sort of a social contract inherently exists. This is often brought up when a hate group demands you tolerate their hate, because “you are all about tolerance, aren’t you?” The social contract of tolerance is as such: If someone does not abide by the terms of the contract, then they are not covered by it. In other words: the intolerant are not following the rules of the social contract of mutual tolerance. Since they have broken the terms of the contract, they are no longer covered by the contact, and their intolerance should NOT be tolerated. (This was taken from a great image found on the internet, posted below). For instance, Nazis believe everyone except a specific kind of white person should be killed, as such, they are not covered by the social contract of tolerance, so we tried our best to exterminate them. Tried.

In the context of art, if influential figures are allowed to dismiss entire mediums, such as digital art or video games, while still expecting their own work to be recognized as art, then the boundaries of art shrink, not because of any inherent limitation, but because recognition is being selectively withheld. Video games provide a clear example of this contradiction. They incorporate visual design, music, narrative, and emotional experience, all elements long recognized as artistic. They are collaborative, like many forms of art. They also introduce interactivity, like performance art, expanding the possibilities of engagement. Yet they are often dismissed as mere entertainment, which, were I a delusional egomaniac, I could say of photography, painting, or performance art as well. From the perspective of the social contract, this dismissal is not neutral. It is an act of exclusion. A video game does not need to exist in a gallery to be art, nor does it need validation from an established artist. If it exists, and if it can be experienced as art, then it participates entirely as art.

Art exists independently, but its recognition depends on a shared agreement, as such breaking that agreement has consequences. An artist who denies the legitimacy of other forms of art is no longer participating in the system that sustains the category itself. They are no longer upholding the conditions that allow their own work to be recognized. This means that to break the contract is to divorce oneself from artistic recognition. One no longer is an artist. The loss of artistic status does not come from outside criticism, poor quality, or changing tastes. It comes from violating the fundamental principle of mutual recognition.

If Abramović refuses to acknowledge other forms of creative expression as art, while insisting that her own work must be understood as such, she places herself outside the social contract that defines art as a shared category. In doing so, she does not invalidate other forms of art, instead she invalidates her own claim to the title of artist. This is simply a logical consequence. If the system requires mutual recognition, and she refuses to participate in that recognition, then she is no longer operating within the system at all.

Art is not owned by artists, institutions, or traditions. It is something that exists in the world, waiting to be recognized. I would argue that art exists beyond human intent, and I’m open to a discussion about that. But that recognition depends on a shared willingness to allow it to exist in many forms. The only way something can lose its status as art is not through failure or disagreement, but through the rejection of that shared understanding. Something can be good art, or it can be bad art, we maintain our opinions, but regardless we agree that it remains art. When an artist breaks the social contract of art, they do not simply express an opinion, they remove themselves from the very category they seek to control.

Finally, my ultimate conclusion for this pettiness is that the discussion of whether something is art or not is not a discussion for artists to have, it is a discussion only for narcissists to have. Abramović is not the only, nor is she the worst offender. She merely happens to be the one that pissed me off. Just practice saying it with me. “I don’t like it. It’s not for me.” But most importantly: “My dislike of this does not change the reality that it is, in fact, art.”