Art and Money

Oscar Wilde famously said, "When bankers get together for dinner, they discuss art. When artists get together for dinner, they discuss money."

Some prefer to see artists as spiritual ambassadors floating above material concerns. They plug into the zeitgeist and brilliance flows out of them and patrons flood in. Or perhaps the artist should not have money, and should instead toil in poverty like Van Gogh, feverishly painting until they die from suicide or lack of self-care.

But an artist is a laborer. The hours an artist spends on their craft are billable in some way—either immediately, as in work-for-hire, or eventually, when a piece sells. That’s not such a foreign concept anymore. Thanks to the internet, we now have a “creator economy” that offers artists a way to support themselves. Some profit from it. Most work harder than ever, for even less income, in order to fulfill algorithmic demands that change all the time.

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I decided in my early twenties that I didn’t want to have to sell my “real” art. I went the commercial art route so I could make a living doing art and protect my own painting from the pressures of the marketplace. I didn’t want to fit into a scene, or kiss up to mega dealers, or squeeze the life out of my work so it would fit above someone’s couch. As if all those options were open to me (I was young, after all).

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So, I saddled up my wild Muse and trotted it around the Disney rodeo, and honed my skills, and made a decent living, and picked up fans around the world. On weekends, I painted whatever I felt. Raw and untrained and emotional. I kept the two separate. The paintings piled up in my closet.

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Then I started painting oils for Disney: characters in famous paintings for Tokyo Disney Seas. That led to other projects, and private clients, and to date I’ve painted over 100 images of ducks and mice lounging in silks.

My two worlds also crossed when I painted a series of carousel horses for myself. That series led to my being hired to design a carousel for Shanghai Disneyland, and a lot more projects for that park.

Now, my declaration that “I earn a living as an artist” is shifting. I’m teaching, writing, and coaching. I’m ready to do something different. I want to spend my labor hours on other things so I can save creative energy for my own work.

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I’m also thinking about all those expressionist paintings piled up in storage. I’m not as attached to them anymore. I’m ready to sacrifice a few of them to create something new. Maybe cut up a canvas to collage into another painting?

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I’ll demonstrate that process in a class next Sunday: From Mess to Masterpiece. It’s in-person at Petaluma Arts Center, so it’s limited to local students. But I’ll offer an online version soon. As I proceed in this journey of creativity and change, I’ll share what I learn with you.

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I’ve also started a new series (more coming soon)...

Art Heals

This is not the first time I've highlighted my mother's artwork in this Art Heals section. She creates art to soothe herself and others. This painting is from her series of artworks illustrating the Kalevala, an epic poem of Finnish folklore. Her bear paintings are among my favorite.

Happy Labor Day,

Maggie

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