Art and Blockchain: From hype to practice

This is where NFTs (non-fungible tokens) entered the picture. An NFT is a unique record on a blockchain that points to a specific asset, could be a digital artwork, and shows who owns it. For digital artists, NFTs appeared to solve a long-standing problem: how to prove provenance when files can be copied endlessly. The file could still circulate, but ownership would remain traceable and scarce in a blockchain. NFTs quickly became both a speculative financial asset and a symbol of a more transparent art market. They offered artists the hope of bypassing traditional middlemen, selling directly to global audiences, and even earning automated royalties on resales through smart contracts. A handful of headline sales – most famously Beeple’s $69 million auction in 2021 – came to define this moment, fuelling excitement that blockchain could democratise the art world. 

Beyond the headlines, the reality is more complex. In my early interviews, artists shared how blockchain had indeed opened new doors, especially for those working outside traditional art systems. Some had shifted from design or adjacent creative work into full-time artmaking during the pandemic, drawn in by the energy of supportive online communities and the early momentum of the NFT boom. One artist described how her first NFT sold within a day, and how that collector remains among her most loyal supporters, even though they’ve never met in person. She noted, however, that timing was key. Entering the space when “everyone was still trying things out” gave her a rare window of opportunity. With the market cooling down, now she’s moved toward a more measured approach – minting sparingly, pricing steadily, and focusing on long-term relationships with more serious collectors. 

By comparison, many artists navigating the traditional gallery route, especially those without elite art school backgrounds or strong networks, faced rejection or silence after sending out countless emails. Web3 initially seemed to lower those barriers. Artists could mint and sell their work directly, with fewer gatekeepers and broader reach. But this openness came with new demands. Without gallery or agent support, NFT creators took on the full weight of self-promotion: comparing different marketplaces and fees, curating their own presence, building brand identity, managing collector relationships, and staying active online. Nearly every artist I interviewed described the difficulty of balancing creative time with the need to be constantly visible on social media, all while filtering scams and unclear offers that arrive through direct messages. 

Meanwhile, the much-promoted “direct” route from artist to collector still ran through online marketplaces, where curation was minimal, often reduced to trending algorithms or rankings based on investment returns. At one NFT community event, I saw a marketplace curator treated almost like a celebrity, surrounded by artists eager to be seen. She later realised that one artist she followed on social media already had work listed on the very marketplace she curated, yet she’d never noticed before they met in real life. With only two full-time curators sorting through a flood of new submissions, visibility depended on limited circles, quick judgments, and platform data. A few names surfaced repeatedly, while many others remained out of view. Also, as auction houses like Christie’s and Sotheby’s entered the space, and blue-chip artists and influencers gained prominence, the visibility gap widened. The market began to echo the traditional art world once more: attention clustered around a select few, and familiar “winner-takes-all” patterns re-emerged. 

For some artists, new tools lowered barriers that once blocked access; for many more, they introduced new pressures and invisible forms of labour. While the underlying technology may be decentralised, the systems that allocate value and visibility remain concentrated and uneven. Therefore, my research focuses on conditions rather than slogans. If online visibility is often driven by speculation, what would professional curation look like – one that helps new artists be seen and gives collectors more confidence? And how might public cultural organisations step in to defend artistic value, so that art isn’t reduced to financial trading? Alongside these questions, my study highlights artists and institutions that are already experimenting with blockchain to test fairer, more artist-centred approaches. Although focused on contemporary visual art, the themes of ownership, circulation and the attribution of creative labour resonate across the cultural sector. The key is to ask: how can new technologies help the arts sector to build systems that are less exploitative and more sustainable?  

Creative United’s partnership with the University of Leicester’s Institute for Digital Culture gives this research firm grounding in practice. Its network of artists, galleries and cultural professionals connects me to the day-to-day realities of the creative economy and sharpens the questions I ask. While the research is still in progress, the partnership creates a pathway for independent academic insights to be shared with sector audiences in ways that matter beyond theory. I anticipate this will not only help clarify the understanding of this technology but also open up real possibilities for supporting artists’ livelihoods and fostering more diverse practices across the sector.