Between antiquity and the 16th century, painters were largely a tool the very rich used to celebrate themselves, their wealth, their power, their mistresses. Those that weren't were used by the church to impress the idea of god itself upon the common folk. Painters would haggle with patrons over which pigments to use, not for their hue or vibrance, but solely for their monetary value. The more money spent on raw materials, the more prestigous its subject matter, the more the work would impress god, apparently.
Imagine the creator of so much blood and dirt and shit reveling in luxury. Almost as hard to believe as a camel ever making its way through the eye of a needle, and I've heard that's easier than a rich man making it to heaven. Yet the rich and the gods sure seem to have a lot in common in how they are treated.
Anyway, landscape painters were punk as hell, believe it or not. The idea of using art not to celebrate wealth and power but instead the beauty of the Earth and the real? There was a time when it was simply unthinkable.
It seems we can't build so much without building a lot of it wrong. Question your assumptions. Tear down the bad walls. There are no gods, there are no masters, there is only the beauty of the Earth.