Where Romans may have first encountered a Michelangelo painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, today, you might discover a new artist on social media. Their work may not even be the first thing you see – the artist might be turning over the canvas to do a slow reveal or even walking towards their sculpture in sheer trousers. In the comment, people write, ‘the true work of art is you’, but, in many cases, the art may not even be the point. People are combining “art reveal” with thirst traps, and creators like Pottery Boy on TikTok have built a 1.6 million following through shirtless wheel-throwing videos. Horny ceramics aside, in an era of ‘personal branding’, does it pay off to be a conventionally attractive, front-facing artist? 

Over the past few years, people have floated the idea that social media could be democratising access and exposure in the art world, a notoriously elitist industry. While this may be true for some artists whose work has been discovered online, others feel a new parallel hierarchy of “hot” artists has emerged in its place. Yoona, a 22-year-old multimedia artist, says she feels pressure to be conventionally attractive in the industry. “Being a girl online already comes with its own insecurities, but for me, being an artist heightens that anxiety surrounding my physical appearance,” they say. Last year, Yoona posted bikini mirror selfies on Instagram with the hashtag #AlgorithmPrincessSummer. Suddenly, more people were interested in her art, especially male artists and curators. “That, to me, was a really dismal reality and annoying pill to swallow,” they say. 

Dylan, a 29-year-old painter in New York (whose name has been changed for the sake of anonymity), says social media is shifting how artists approach their work today. “It sets an unrealistic and materialised expectation of what art is supposed to do for the audience and the artist,” he says. “If there’s no intentional communication and it’s all about being ‘hot’ and marketable, then the service of making art is completely wasted.” Despite watching people climb to the top of the clout ladder by appeasing the algorithm and “following a format instead of moving into their own path”, Dylan still believes there’s a lane for those focused on craft. “Community is always going to be strong and authentic, so seeing how art integrates so many people is reassuring,” he says.

The cruel reality is that maybe improving my physical appearance is just as fundamental to my success as developing my art practice itself. It’s also frustrating to feel myself internalising this idea that I have to get sexier and show ass online if I want to play the game.

It’s not new for artists to be considered brands or public figures. Artists are also not the only category of people who feel that being conventionally attractive will give them a leg up in their industry. Beautiful people are more likely to get hired, get paid more and receive better performance evaluations. Still, the crossing into influencer territory seems to ramp up pressure on young artists. Those who don’t have industry contacts or an MFA may feel like their future career trajectory relies almost completely on building a social following. The irony, however, is that the tactics that bring you the virality you believe you need to break into the industry are also frowned upon by old, established institutions. “The general perspective in the art world is that people posing in front of their artworks cheapens the value of the work,” says Paul Hill, a 25-year-old gallerist and founder of Strada.

While ‘hot artists’ may be all over the algorithm, Hill says they hardly make a dent in the fine art world. “I don’t think social media has pushed the needle that much on the art world being exclusionary,” says Hill. “It’s still a gated industry.” You can, however, sell work on the more accessible side of the industry through posting thirst traps, but he calls that a “slippery slope”. “If you’re an artist, at the end of the day, you should just let the artwork speak for itself,” Hill says. This, however, may not account for the clearly gendered element at play when it comes to access and representation in fine art. Women artists’ works accounted for just nine per cent of the auction market in 2022, and only 11 women were among the 100 top-selling artists at auction globally in 2023.

According to Hill, the pathway to a successful and respected career in fine art is most likely not through social media. “I don’t think there are any artists who are trying to become one of the highest-paid artists in the profession that I know going down the TikTok route,” he says. “Instead, they are making personal relationships off social media.” But what happens to the artists who don’t have access to those esteemed connections? Yoona says she feels stuck between the pressure to look “algorithmically rewarding” and the art world’s unspoken expectation to appeal to “high culture and its aesthetic tastes”. Those within the inner circle don’t need to post themselves for recognition. When sharing their latest exhibition online, Hill says these artists simply post photo documentation of the work (no thirst trap in sight).

Next time you’re scrolling past a thirst-trap art reveal, remember that young women are taking the brunt of the pressure to break into the industry using unconventional methods. For Yoona, simply knowing that allowing others to objectify her could ‘get her further’ in art feels demoralising. “The cruel reality is that maybe improving my physical appearance is just as fundamental to my success as developing my art practice itself,” they say. “It’s also frustrating to feel myself internalising this idea that I have to get sexier and show ass online if I want to play the game.” Only the game is rigged, and the idea that you can be sexy online but respected by artistic elites seems to be a false promise. It’s almost as if attempting to replace a classist hierarchy with a discriminatory, aesthetics-focused algorithmic hierarchy wasn’t the answer all along.