Since ancient times, wine has been a product that bridges two distinct worlds: one as a near-divine beverage crafted for pharaohs and royalty, and the other as a widely traded commodity that has circulated throughout the ancient world and, today, reaches virtually every corner of the globe.
This duality is evident in all wine-producing countries, where a substantial base of commodity products supports the industry, while the small apex of the pyramid represents the high-end wine market. In South Africa, this phenomenon is particularly pronounced, with 72% of the country’s packaged wine production retailing for less than R50 per liter.
Considering the rising costs of wine production, the true premium market, where compromises on quality are minimized, only begins at R150 and above. Notably, only 4% of South Africa’s wines fall into this R150-and-up category. In comparison, one of our more successful competitors, New Zealand (that has a host of their own problems, as everybody does), demonstrates the critical importance of expanding the premium segment. Cultivating this market seems the only viable path for the South African wine industry to achieve sustainable growth and long-term success in a market where the bottom end is hemorrhaging consumers due to decreased consumption and increased financial pressure.
Around this premium segment of wine there has always been shrouded in an air of creativity. This is exemplified by the concept of terroir a term used to describe not only the physical conditions in which a wine is produced but also the cultural and intangible factors that shape its character. When this perspective is considered, the question of whether wine is an art form might seem straightforward to answer. However, as with most things in life, simplicity is elusive. To explore this topic, we must not begin by asking, “Is wine art?” but rather, “What is art?”
In philosophical terms, we must define two core concepts: aesthetic qualities and aesthetic purpose. Aesthetic qualities refer to the characteristics that something, in this case wine, produces when it is consumed. It is the warm feeling of contentment and happiness that a good bottle of wine evokes, the memory of a lost love, or the nostalgia of a joyful family gathering conjured while drinking a particular wine. It explains why we seek out a wine from a specific birth year or save a bottle of sparkling wine for a special occasion. These qualities represent how consumers experience the wine. It is also the reason some people might hang the most horrendous (to an outsider) art on their walls.
Aesthetic purpose, on the other hand, refers to the emotional experience that the creator aims to imbue into the wine. It reflects the meaning the wine holds for its creator and the emotions they wish to convey to the consumer. This distinction begins to unravel the complexities of the argument surrounding wine as art. A high-quality wine can still be crafted without the creator’s intention to embed emotional significance, driven solely by the joy of creating a superior product. This does not imply a lack of emotional investment in winemaking. Any winemaker worth their salt will attest that no wine, not even mass-produced box wine, can be crafted without some degree of emotional commitment. However, the focus of that emotional investment may not always be directed solely at the product itself, but rather at the deep satisfaction and passion for the craft.
In this distinction lies the crux of the argument. More liberal critics advocate for the Institutional Theory of Art, proposed by George Dickie, which suggests that something qualifies as art if the “art” world, comprising critics, galleries, artists, observers, and in this case consumers, recognizes it as such, irrespective of the creator’s original intent. In essence, if it evokes an emotional response in the consumer, it can be considered art.
Conversely, a more stringent theory posits that art is an expression of the creator. Advocated by figures like Leo Tolstoy, R.G. Collingwood, and Zangwill. This perspective holds that art serves as a medium for communicating emotions, with aesthetic purpose being a critical factor in distinguishing art from non-art. According to this view, regardless of a wine’s quality or price, if the winemaker did not create it with the intention of conveying specific emotions to the consumer, it cannot be considered art.
This perspective also blurs the line between a commodity and a luxury art product. Quality parameters of price alone are insufficient to determine when a wine qualifies as a piece of art. Instead, it requires a combination of the winemaker’s aesthetic purpose and the consumer’s experience of the wine’s aesthetic qualities.
For me, a bottle of Tassenberg, with its unique characteristics, evokes strong emotions of a carefree time in a smoke-filled venue with good friends and young love much more than any Grand Cru with a nice story plopped in front of me does.
As with all debates worth having, the answer ultimately lies in subjectivity. Sometimes wine is art, and sometimes it is not. It all depends on perspective and the personal experiences that shape how we perceive wine.
Within this ambiguity may lie the key to the South African wine industry’s growth. It is not solely higher price points that will secure its future, but rather the cultivation of an emotional connection, rooted in authenticity and experience, between the wine and the consumer. In a time marked by declining wine consumption and economic pressures on consumers, fostering such connections can build a resilient and loyal customer base upon which the South African wine industry can thrive and expand.
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