A story of artists from the Paleolithic to this morning. A great book by an artist on the real essence of the art work, reviewed by Carl William Brown. Whereas much has been written on the subject of art, the literature on the figure of the artist has been relatively scant. There are certainly countless biographies as well as essays dedicated to particular aspects of art – for example, the relationship between artists and their patrons – but there is no comprehensive text that puts together the pieces of the puzzle showing how the figure of the artist changed over the millennia. An Artist’s Story of Artists by Andros, translated from Italian by Elizabeth Enrica Thomson, is an attempt to make good this lacuna by retracing the long and often fragmented path of the artist, from the Palaeolithic until this morning, more or less.
If life weren’t so terrible, art wouldn’t exist.
Andros
Art is a colossal fraud; I can’t live with it, but I can’t live without it.
Andros
Art never dies, but artists, fortunately, do.
Andros
The formula for art: the square root of imagination, more pain, less life.
Andros
Everything is the stuff of art, and art is all the stuff.
Andros
The sleep of art generates exhibitions.
Andros
The book A story of artists – From the Paleolithic to This Morning by Andros is a monumental work, with a very clear and ambitious structure: it recounts the evolution of the artist (not art itself) from prehistoric origins to the contemporary era, dividing the journey into five major phases: 1. Shaman and decorator – the artist as a magical-sacred figure. 2. Worker and executor – the long period of the artist-servant. 3. Mirror, intellectual, and genius – the Renaissance and the birth of the “genius.” 4. Experimenter and theoretician – from the nineteenth century to the avant-garde. 5. Experiential and inflated – postmodernism and the artist as a brand.
The introduction is a lucid and unconventional treatise on the philosophy of art: Andros challenges the “evaluative” criteria that claim to define who is or is not an artist based on the quality of their work, and instead adopts a “non-evaluative” and “humanistic” approach: an artist is someone who dedicates himself passionately and consistently to an art, like a doctor dedicates himself to healing or a priest to his faith. The book is also a sociological reflection: it shows how the figure of the artist has been continually distorted by ideologies, power, the market, and ultimately by the very inflation of the term “artist” in the contemporary era.
There’s a sentence in the introduction that resonates today like a bitter yet true echo: “The artist is someone who dedicates himself to an art, even if he does it poorly.” This simplicity captures the full meaning of his thought: art is not a privilege, it is a burning vocation, an act of absolute dedication. And those who dedicate themselves to it know they pay a price: that of incomprehension, misinterpretation, sometimes even contempt. Indeed, the sacred fire of art warms some people and burns many others.
In an age when the word “artist” has almost become a marketing label, Andros’ book, A story of artists – From the Paleolithic to This Morning, comes as a breath of fresh air (and a bit of truth). Published in 2014 but more relevant than ever, this is a surprising essay in its breadth, clarity, and passion: it doesn’t tell the history of art, but the story of the artist, of those who make art, with their hands, their minds, and their lives. So we can certainly say that for those who love art, for those who practice it, or simply for those who still wonder what it means to be an artist, this book is an enlightening, ironic, and necessary read.
The author fills a glaring gap in art literature: while countless pages have been dedicated to works and movements, very few have followed the thread of the man (and woman) behind the work, its social, philosophical, and even biological transformations. From the first shaman who painted for magic and survival, to the artist-brand of the digital age, Andros reconstructs a millennia-long journey in five major phases, where the figure of the artist changes shape and status along with civilization. In these pages, Andros doesn’t simply tell the story of artists: he recounts the struggle of being artists, the tension between the need to express oneself and the world’s indifference, the constant struggle to give form to something that cannot be expressed.
With a brilliant and ironic style, the author combines the rigor of the historian with the eye of the practitioner, because, as he confesses, he writes “on the side of the artists.” This text doesn’t hide behind academic language: it questions dogmas and definitions, starting with that of “art” itself. The underlying thesis is as simple as it is liberating: an artist is not someone judged to be “good,” but someone who dedicates themselves authentically and consistently to an art.
This “non-evaluative” approach shifts the discussion from aesthetic value to human value: Andros restores the artist’s dignity as a worker, thinker, experimenter, and, often, a victim of social convention. He does so with a cultured yet lively style that intertwines philosophy, anthropology, psychology, and history in a narrative that is always fluid and full of curiosity, from the mysteries of the Altamira caves to the paradoxes of contemporary art.
A story of artists is, ultimately, a book about the meaning of creation and resistance. It recounts how, over the millennia, the artist has gone from shaman to slave, then genius, then cursed, to the “banned” artist of today, overwhelmed by the market and cultural mediocrity. But beneath every disguise, the same urgency remains: that of shaping the world and ourselves.
The book, dense and rigorous but never burdensome, traverses millennia of human evolution with clear language, rich in curiosities, quotations, and philosophical reflections. From the figure of the Paleolithic shaman to the postmodern artist, Andros reconstructs the entire journey of being an artist as a long metamorphosis, marked by five major phases that correspond to anthropological, social, and spiritual changes.
His writing has a dual strength: on the one hand, it is well-documented, timely, grounded in accurate readings and references; on the other, it is animated by a personal, engaging, and sometimes ironic tone, revealing the perspective of someone who doesn’t observe art from the outside, but lives it every day. Indeed, Andros openly declares that he writes “on the side of artists,” and this intellectual honesty is one of the book’s greatest strengths.
At times, the author becomes merciless, both toward critics and artists themselves, demonstrating how the figure of the artist has shifted, over the centuries, from sacred to ridiculed, from spiritual elevation to contemporary banalization. But the tone remains constructive: there is no sterile bitterness, but rather a desire to restore dignity to a fragile and extraordinary human condition.
Andros labor is evident on every page: it is the result of years of study, direct observation, and personal reflection. The work manages to be simultaneously a historical essay, an intellectual diary, and a confession. For this reason, A story of artists is not just a book about art, but a book about the identity and human destiny of those who create.
It’s rare to encounter a text capable of combining expertise, passion, and vision with such balance. And even rarer to find one that invites the reader to question not what art is, but who, and why, stubbornly continues to make it. It’s a book that doesn’t console, but enlightens. And it leaves its reader with a question that never fades: how long can the creative human being endure in a world that no longer seems to need creators?
Reading “A story of artists – From the Paleolithic to This Morning” today, knowing that its author, Andros, is no longer with us, is an experience that profoundly changes the book’s meaning. What appears to be a great historical essay on the evolution of the artist across the millennia also becomes the moral and spiritual testament of a man who made art not a profession, but a destiny. Yet, leafing through the pages, one has the feeling of listening to an interrupted dialogue: Andros does not only speak of artists of the past, but speaks to us, to the artists of today, to readers, to anyone who still seeks meaning in the word “dedicate oneself”.
This text is a journey as long as humanity itself, but it is also a confession: the confession of a man who looked into the word “art” and found within it life, madness, hope, and defeat. The author wanted to restore dignity to the artist, not as a genius or a privileged individual, but as a human being who dedicates himself totally to his work. Ultimately, the Artist’s Story is also the story of the struggle of existence. The book clearly highlights the compassion of those who know the solitude of creation, the joy and pain of those who dirty their hands with color and life. Knowing that Andros is no longer with us adds a shadow to his book that is not only sad, but also truthful. His voice joins that of the many artists he has portrayed—the misunderstood, the disillusioned, the rebels, the dreamers—and seems to say: “We were here, and we tried to understand.”
The Artist’s Story thus remains as a legacy, a testament of thought and passion. It’s a book that speaks to artists, but also to those who aren’t, because deep down, we’ve all felt like you at least once in our lives: caught between the urge to create and the burden of not being understood. Perhaps this is the true legacy of his work: reminding us that art is not a luxury, but a means of resistance. And that those who live it to the fullest don’t truly die, but continue to speak to us, with the same silent voice that will try to resonate in every mind of good will that will touch this miserable planet.
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