Why Your Art Isn’t “Just Decorative” (And How to Stop Sabotaging Your Own Practice)

“Maybe my work is just decoration.”

This sentence, spoken quietly during our recent session, stopped me cold. Not because it’s unusual—I hear it constantly—but because it reveals a deeper truth about how artists sabotage their own development.

The artist who said it (let’s call her Marina) creates stunning abstract works exploring relationships between color and light. But instead of seeing the conceptual sophistication in her work, she saw only “pretty pictures.”

Here’s what’s fascinating: artists who create purely decorative work never ask this question. They know their purpose and are comfortable with it. This is similar to how, when people ask themselves if they’re smart or good enough for something, they likely are – because you’re displaying enough self-awareness to question yourself. The very fact that you’re questioning whether your work is “just” decoration indicates it probably isn’t.

Decorative Art Syndrome: The Self-Sabotage Epidemic

Over the past months, I’ve spoken with dozens of artists wrestling with this question. Every time, the pattern is the same:

1. They create work that intuitively drives them
2. Someone (often well-meaning) asks “what does it mean?”
3. The artist freezes, can’t articulate an answer
4. They conclude their work must be shallow or purely decorative
5. They begin doubting their entire practice

This cycle is lethal for creative development. Not because decorative art lacks value (it doesn’t), but because misdiagnosis leads to the wrong “cures.”

What Theory Actually Says About Your Art

Arthur Danto, in his groundbreaking The Transfiguration of the Commonplace (1981), argues something radical: the difference between an artwork and an ordinary object isn’t how they look, but the “atmosphere of artistic theory” surrounding them (p. 13).

Think about that for a moment. Duchamp’s urinal became Fountain not through any change in the object, but through a change in context and intention.

When Marina asks “Is my work just decoration?”, she’s already participating in the kind of critical dialogue that makes her work art. Decoration doesn’t question itself; art does.

Theorist Hans Belting goes even further in The End of the History of Art? (1987), arguing that “art becomes art only when it is spoken about as art” (p. 67). It’s not enough to create—you must be able to articulate why and how you create.

Don’t get me wrong—the point of theory isn’t to reinvent the wheel or create narratives around works that don’t have them. The goal isn’t to force works into theoretical frameworks. The goal isn’t to “justify” anything, but rather to use theory as a tool that prompts you to think about your own work.Retry

The Language You’re Missing (And Why Art School Didn’t Teach It)

Here’s the brutal truth: most art schools excel at teaching you how to create, but not necessarily how to talk about what you create. To an extent, they do – but it isn’t a priority for them.

I recently worked with a conceptual artist—let’s call her Iva—preparing her portfolio for important international applications. Her work was technically brilliant but conceptually scattered. “I know what I want to say,” she explained in frustration, “but the words just won’t come.”

Through our sessions, we didn’t “invent” meaning for her work. Instead, we uncovered the language that was already there, hidden beneath the surface. As Rosalind Krauss noted in The Originality of the Avant-Garde (1985): “Practice is not defined in relation to a given medium (…) but rather in relation to the logical operations on a set of cultural terms” (p. 288).

Iva’s work already contained those logical operations. She just needed the vocabulary to describe them. Now, as she finalizes her applications, her portfolio has a coherence that makes each individual piece stronger.

Three Questions That Change Everything

Instead of asking “Is my work decoration?”, try these:

1. “What decisions am I making while creating?” Every decision—color, composition, material—carries meaning. You might not be able to articulate it immediately, but it exists. Document your decisions. Patterns will emerge.
2. “What draws me to this approach?” Your instincts aren’t random. If something consistently attracts you, there’s a reason. That attraction is the beginning of your conceptual framework.
3. “How does my work speak to other work?” No work exists in a vacuum. What does your work converse with? What does it challenge? What does it embrace? These relationships are your context.

A Practical Guide to Developing Artistic Language

Weeks 1-2: Document Without Judgment

Photograph your work in progress. Write down every decision, however trivial it seems. Don’t try to find “deep meaning”—just document.

Weeks 3-4: Look for Patterns

Review your notes. What words repeat? What themes emerge? Don’t force connections—let them appear naturally.

Weeks 5-6: Test Your Articulation

Try explaining your work to someone who isn’t an artist. Where do you stumble? Those are areas needing attention. Where do you flow naturally? That’s your authentic voice.

Weeks 7-8: Refine and Repeat

Write three versions of your artist statement: 50 words, 150 words, 300 words. Each version will force greater clarity. And the 50-word one is going to be the most difficult to articulate.

Why This Isn’t Just About Selling Your Work

Developing artistic language isn’t about marketing or impressing curators. It’s about:

• Vision clarity: When you can articulate what you’re doing, you can do it more intentionally
• Artistic evolution: Language allows you to recognize and develop themes in your work
• Professional credibility: Galleries, curators, and collectors expect articulation
• Personal validation: You stop doubting whether your work is “good enough”

Your Work Isn’t “Just” Anything

If you’re questioning whether your work is “just decoration,” you’ve already crossed the threshold that separates decoration from art. The question isn’t whether your work has meaning—it’s how to articulate the meaning that already exists.

Almost every artist I work with comes with the same worry: “Maybe my work isn’t deep enough.” Every time, the work reveals depths the artist simply couldn’t see—or articulate—alone.

(This is exactly why we exist. Not to give your work meaning, but to help you uncover and articulate the meaning that was always there.)

Call to reflection: What aspects of your work do you intuitively understand but can’t explain in words? What would change in your practice if you could clearly articulate your vision?

Share your experience with developing artistic language. Let’s normalize that articulation requires practice—and that it’s a skill you can develop.Contact us anytime!

---

Bibliography:

Belting, Hans. The End of the History of Art? Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987.

Danto, Arthur C. The Transfiguration of the Commonplace: A Philosophy of Art. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981.

Krauss, Rosalind. The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985.