Help! I Hate... My Appearance

Every week, The Art Journal's resident artworld Agony Aunt Charlotte Jansen answers your questions about access, gatekeeping and sticky social problems

Have a burning question for her? Get in touch anonymously here.

At a gallery dinner recently, I was seated with people I knew only vaguely. A surprising amount of the conversation was about Ozempic; which artworld personality was taking it, who might be taking it, how they looked, and whether any of us would ever use it. The people discussing it were attractive and in good shape. We weren’t talking about health - it was like they really believed being even slimmer might somehow make them more successful or taken more seriously.

It left me wondering how much physical appearance matters in the artworld. For an industry that likes to see itself as progressive and prides itself on ideas over image, I often feel a lot of pressure around how I dress, look and present myself. Sometimes, it seems like everyone is performing a version of themselves that doesn't relate to the work we all profess to care about. When I am getting ready to go out for an opening or event, I have this conversation with myself. Am I practicing self-expression or merely trying to meet an absurd set of beauty standards that don’t reflect my professional practice? Am I imagining this, or is there a genuine pressure to look a certain way if you want to get ahead in the art world? And if there is, how can I avoid getting caught up in it?

I wish I could say it ain’t so, but you are not imagining it.

As I read this, I was getting ready before going out to moderate a public talk. It made me realise I was in fact not at all anxious about what I was going to say, or how the artist was going to respond, or the fact that a room full of people would be watching. The thing that made me sweat was the fact it would be photographed while I was in flagrante, as it were, and that those pictures would then be pasted over the internet without my permission or control. Clearly, there's something very wrong with all of this. Yet few of us are equipped to operate in this kind of culture, unless you're blessed with photogenic looks or have natural style and pose. I felt annoyed at myself for letting this all get to me. The truth is that this has become a part of my working life, on an almost a weekly basis, yet I never signed up for it. I didn't get into this industry to be looked at - in fact, the reason I want to write is because I want to hide from such expectations. 

In recent years, I think the artworld has become as appearance-obsessed as the fashion industry. A new modus operandi has taken hold – more public talks, more dinners, more events with cocktails and small bowls, more gross galas funded by dodgy gazillonaires – all of them, of course, photographed and proliferated online. You could also put it down to all those luxury brand collaborations with artists, social media culture or the attention deficit pandemic. But it might also be the true nature of the artworld, more exposed than times past. One of art’s abiding contradictions is that, while it is apparently devoted to challenging conventions, the industry is remarkably conventional about a lot of things.

The artworld purports to believe that ideas matter more than image – but all these fairs, talks, galleries, museum openings and dinners are social stages. Perhaps this is inevitable. Human beings are highly attuned to visual signals. We seek out aesthetics and beauty - not just in art works, but in the surroundings too. 

But the Ozempic conversation you describe is revealing, because it was not really about Ozempic or weight – it was about aspiration. It was about people confessing to insecurity, wondering whether there is some hidden key or secret shortcut that might make them more visible, desirable or influential. The drug simply happened to be the contemporary vehicle for an older and perennial anxiety. 

What surprises me more is that people who barely knew you were open enough to share their doubts and insecurities – especially since, as you say in your observation, they were already attractive and probably trying to project confidence. That almost – almost – feels like some kind of progress, because they felt safe enough around strangers to talk about their body issues and fears of being left behind. 

Does appearance matter in the artworld? Yes, of course. Anyone who claims otherwise is being naive or disingenuous. How you dress, carry yourself and present yourself online all contribute to how others perceive you, and there’s no getting away from that. Attractive people often benefit from unconscious biases. Certain aesthetics become associated with cultural relevance, sophistication or success. In environments where success is uncertain and difficult to measure, appearance can start to feel like one of the few variables over which people have some control. 

This slaps you in the face when you get to my age, especially as a woman. I baulked when the editor of this publication asked me to shoot an informal video piece to promote this column. It took me a stupid amount of time, felt totally unnatural to me - and, once I finally did it, Instagram censored it as I accidentally shot the thing in front of a nude portrait. It all starts to feel like an absurd and exhausting charade when, really, all I want to focus on is good syntax. Maybe it's also a generational thing - my colleagues at The Art Journal, two decades younger than me, produce seamless videos. I am sure this is a form they feel more comfortable with. 

Ultimately, though, I am also sure most of us want to be valued for the work we do, and not the way we look. That does not mean appearance is irrelevant. It means it should remain in its proper place – part of existing in the world, but not the measure of your worth within it.

Perhaps it’s worth distinguishing between appearance and conformity. When I think of some of the artists I admire most, they have a strong sense of style and they look good – but not in a perfect, glossy, Instagram-friendly way. They look good in a confident, zero-fucks-given way. They might have worn the same outfit for four decades. They might be indifferent to fashion, or just above and beyond it. It’s not about weight, height, flawless skin, wearing the ‘right’ designers. Instead, it’s about conviction. This also feels like a generational thing – the pre-internet generation comport themselves this way naturally. For each of us since, it might be a good idea to take more cues from them.

If you’re getting dressed for an opening asking yourself, “how can I avoid being judged?”, then self-presentation has stopped being expressive and has become primarily defensive. Stuck in this loop, the anxiety will become endless, while the standards will keep moving. Your question may not have a definitive answer because most of us are doing some of both. We are social creatures who unconsciously adjust our presentation and our performance of who we are depending on context. Do your clothing choices for an event make you feel more like yourself or less like yourself? One kind of effort tends to feel expansive and enjoyable. The other feels like the maintenance of a disguise.

As for getting caught up in it – well, every field contains some people who are rewarded for visibility and others who are rewarded for substance. The artworld has both. If you spend enough time looking at the first group, you will conclude that success belongs to the thinnest, best-dressed and most photogenic people in the room. But, if you spend enough time looking at the second, you will notice that many influential careers are built on curiosity, a generosity of spirit, intelligence, persistence and good work. The irony is that the people who seem least consumed by status are often the most interesting to be around. They have redirected their attention away from how they appear to what they are making, thinking and contributing. That, dear reader, is where your true power lies.