Last week’s blog post seems to have a hit a
nerve, and I got a lot of comments via e-mail and Facebook from frustrated
artists who are fed up with a number of things, chief among them the
wide-spread practice of expecting artists to pay for the privilege of
practicing their trade. While the post generated a lot of response, I don’t
feel that it did a great job of
analyzing the issues with much depth. It was more of a drive-by rant, in
retrospect probably triggered by that terrible warehouse
fire in Oakland. (Side note: For God’s Sake, fire codes exist for a reason,
people!) Since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of artists in our
society, and in turn, the projections and attitudes of society towards artists.
I started writing what I was hoping would be a sage, cultural critic-like, in
depth analysis of the issues, but very shortly into it, my brain
short-circuited and I completely lost my mojo.
I’m sorry to say I can now only eke out a smattering of scattered
thoughts, then I need to return to my normal shallow waters or I'll get
the vapors from too much hard thinking.
To quote my talented artist friend Frankie from
a recent Facebook comment: “Hanging fees, entry fees, reading fees,
registration fees, are just a few of the ways artists get screwed in this town.
Everyone wants to make money off of the artist but no one wants to pay for the
work.” She’s not having it anymore, and until all other artists rebel against
it, too, the system won’t change. The same goes for writers who continue to pay
contest entry fees and submission fees. As long we allow people to make money
off of our gullibility, they will.
I believe in Yog’s Law: Money should flow to the
writer. I also believe there is a period of time in which it is appropriate to
provide work at no cost—when you’re first getting established and you need to
get your name out there and build up a reputation. Unfortunately though, for
most writers and artists, this period tends to extend far beyond its rightful expiration
date. I think some of this has to do with our infamous low self-esteem. For
myself, I know I harbor a fear of charging for my work. I’m embarrassed about
selling my books at poetry readings. I have some weird hang-up about getting
money for them that makes no sense. For the few literary magazines that are
actually able to pay, I usually just donate the money back to the magazine. For
me, it’s a bit of a moot point, since I’m never going to make much off of
a single poem or short story anyway. But it would be much different if
I were writing for a living. Or, if a miracle happens and my novel actually
gets published. In that case, I’m going to have to get some business sense
pretty damn fast, which is not something that artists are known for.
On that note, famous comedian Kathy Griffin once
went on a rant about artists who brag about how they have no business sense.
She rightly pointed out that it’s our job and our responsibility to understand
the business end of the profession, and that it’s inexcusable to be lazy about
that aspect of it. So when we get taken advantage of, perhaps we need to take a
look at our own culpability as well.
Carolyn pointed out in a comment on my blog that
the romantic myth of the starving artist is still very much in play. I think we
as artists to some degree buy into that, which ties into our general
unwillingness to be business-savvy. But I also suspect there is something of a
punitive aspect to it that comes from the rest of society—this idea that if
we’re going to “indulge ourselves” in this way, we have some spiritual and
moral obligation to live in poverty. Or, maybe it’s tied up in the idea
of purity—that art is seen as some angelic, untouchable thing that should never be
sullied by something as crass as money.
Heck, I don’t have the answers, people. I’m just
as much of a mess as anyone else who swims in these waters. I hope you will
weigh in with your thoughts and observations. These are mine for whatever they're worth. I wish I had better answers, but I don’t, so here’s a video of the
world’s most brazen raccoon. Enjoy!
--Kristen McHenry
P.S. I found this article, sent to me by aforementioned Frankie, to be quite illuminating.
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