Blame the instructors. I was an art student at UW-M (Milwaukee) in the late 60’s. That sort of stuff was enthused over and encouraged. The very worst crit you could get from an art teacher/professor was “It’ll sell.”
Today, I hear, “Well, you actually made a living at it!” (depends on what you call ‘a living’), from some of those very same students, most whom didn’t continue in art, but didn’t end up destitute, either.
I remember when they re-named Commercial Art something like Advertising Design. People would get agitated if you said you did ‘commercial art.’ ‘Commercial’ became a dirty word.
I do blame the instructors! In a painting class we were given a short story to read and then create a painting. The title was The Pot That Was Not A Pot.
It was stupid beyond belief and made no sense at all. A druggies dream.
My husband has a bit of a belly so I had him pose for me and I painted a ceramic pot with a belly button that looked like his belly. It was obviously a pot and a belly.
The instructor acted like he was confused when he looked at my painting and said he could not make sense of it. I think the story he had us read was actually written by him while he was high as a kite.