"There are countless artists whose shoes I am not worthy to polish - whose prints would not pay the printer. The question of judgment is a puzzling one"
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Parrish’s humility lands like a controlled burn: self-deprecation that’s too specific to be mere modesty, too barbed to be purely polite. “Not worthy to polish” invokes the old studio hierarchy of masters and apprentices, but he pairs it with the brutal economics of reproduction: “whose prints would not pay the printer.” That pivot is the tell. He’s talking less about talent than about the weird machinery that decides whose talent gets seen, circulated, and monetized.
Parrish lived inside that machinery. He became one of America’s most widely reproduced image-makers, a painter whose lush, idealized scenes thrived in calendars, magazines, and advertising. Popular success, especially when it runs through print culture, comes with a stain: the suspicion that mass appeal equals lesser art. His line quietly acknowledges a whole class of “countless artists” who may be better by some formal or critical measure, yet remain economically invisible because they don’t translate into saleable prints. He’s not flattering his peers; he’s indicting a system where aesthetic value and market value keep swapping masks.
“The question of judgment is a puzzling one” is the kicker: a shrug that’s also a warning. Parrish isn’t claiming judgment is impossible; he’s admitting it’s contingent, shaped by distribution, taste-makers, and the technologies that multiply an image. In an era when fame could be manufactured by ink and paper, he’s already pointing to the modern problem: what we call “good” is often what the culture can afford to circulate.
Parrish lived inside that machinery. He became one of America’s most widely reproduced image-makers, a painter whose lush, idealized scenes thrived in calendars, magazines, and advertising. Popular success, especially when it runs through print culture, comes with a stain: the suspicion that mass appeal equals lesser art. His line quietly acknowledges a whole class of “countless artists” who may be better by some formal or critical measure, yet remain economically invisible because they don’t translate into saleable prints. He’s not flattering his peers; he’s indicting a system where aesthetic value and market value keep swapping masks.
“The question of judgment is a puzzling one” is the kicker: a shrug that’s also a warning. Parrish isn’t claiming judgment is impossible; he’s admitting it’s contingent, shaped by distribution, taste-makers, and the technologies that multiply an image. In an era when fame could be manufactured by ink and paper, he’s already pointing to the modern problem: what we call “good” is often what the culture can afford to circulate.
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
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