June 8, 2025
At some point we were all artists. Proof is hanging on the walls in just about every Kindergarten classroom; or in old video clips of us as children, random laundry wrapped around our bodies as we prance around the living room, belting our heart out into a spatula with moms bra swinging from our hip. As we get older and the more schooling we receive, our talents are steered and shaped by the system into becoming something more “useful”; or at least that’s what’s supposed to happen.
I O U-niversity
In America, it’s getting easier to find people who believe that a standard education does little more than churn out worker bees to serve an economy that doesn’t quite serve them back. And while it’s also getting easier to find people who complain all the time, whether or not we’re still dancing around the living room in our underwear, we can’t help but ask ourselves if there is something better than the solitary pedagogical establishment in which we find ourselves investing.
It hits us on the rear end, so to speak, when the tens of thousands of dollars we borrowed to pursue a degree in Music or Dance or Creative Writing or Design seems to take an eternity to pay back, especially compared to our peers who majored in Business Administration or Computer Science, at roughly the same cost. Sometimes people even attend college for no prominent reason at all, other than the fact that they let us in (or mom and dad are paying). That would be like spending $120,000 dollars at Costco only because, well, we qualified for one of those special cards.
When we realize, “Oh, so this is why they wanted us to learn calculus or chemistry or something we had zero interest in learning”, we should then be thanking our government for its clear disinterest in supporting artistic programming; for this informs us that the low hanging fruit of job security and “financial stability” dangles as the result of a system that has been created to reward its followers. These actions speak for themselves, as some of the greatest musicians I have ever met still grind away at a “day job” to support what remains a part-time dream.
Getting caught up in the frenzy of academia, for someone who is artistically passionate and gifted, is not uncommon. We’re told that if we’re serious about pursuing a particular subject, even if it’s something that dis-aesthetics would roll their eyes at, then we must enroll in the finest universities and institutions. Period. And the current borrowing structure sweetens the deal for more and more bright eyed youngsters, despite, and due to the fact that, American colleges now charge them an exorbitant cost for tuition.
Let’s assume we’ve entered our first year at a major university to study Clarinet; and, assuming we’ve managed to avert these standard extra-curricular distractions that accompany such new freedom, we’re ready to learn. We’ve even accepted the fact that we’ll need to take dozens of courses that have absolutely nothing to do with the Clarinet, despite the fact that we’re paying (or borrowing to pay) by the credit hour for each and every one of them. If we’re lucky enough to stave off burnout, we get to purchase or rent academic regalia to walk with our classmates and receive our well-earned diploma. And then, we’re off! To where exactly, we may have no idea.
Lay Off Me, I’m Starving!
When we refer to somebody as a “starving artist”, most would assume that we’re talking about a person who is sincerely or even severely, dedicated to their craft. The term itself is romantic because, while tragic on the surface, it conveys a deeper sense of altruism, a devotional sacrifice for their vessel of personal expression. But if we called someone a “starving insurance agent” or a “starving salesperson”, it would just be tragic because it merely suggests that they’re either terrible at their job or terrible with money; plus, there is a pre-existing implication that they’re not so passionately and utterly devoted to selling insurance.
Being a phenomenal dancer or painter or singer is not synonymous with financial prosperity; in fact, most would agree that these are mutually exclusive. To take it even further, some artists who become vastly successful or even famous because of their talents may be labeled as a “sell out”. The industry of art has been so rigorously conditioned to undermine itself that the vast majority of its contributors have developed a complex regarding what it means to be successful.
What a human being is capable of producing with the stroke of a brush or the exhalation of a breath is so rare and beautiful that we can’t put a price on it. Unfortunately, the market value is what it is, and since empirical units of measurement don’t necessarily exist for this type of skill, we have a tendency to take art as all or nothing- priceless or crap.
Mainstream has us swooning over famous people like Taylor Swift or Timotheé Chalamet (to the point where my word processing app just autocorrected his name; whereas, I still find typos like “adn” or “awlays” in my edits). I can’t say I have anything against these people, in fact, many believe the status they’ve achieved in the industry of art to be the pinnacle; but can we all sit here and unanimously agree that they represent the greatest talent the world has to offer? No, because art is fiercely subjective, yet very little variety seems to flow its way into the mainstream.
Meanwhile, musicians not as alluring or seductive or fortunate will continue to bank the same amount of money, per gig, as they did in the early ‘90’s. Experienced thespians might take a part simply for the love of doing it and maybe a little recognition, nothing more. If we resort to blaming the venues where we find performance work or the educational institutions that have duped us into believing we’d be able to pay them back by way of our talents, we as artists can begin to feel as though we’ve taken an evolutionary step backwards; truly imbibing the phrase, “all that glitters is not gold”.
Through all of this we can see what most people already know: those who pursue a career as an artist rarely do it “for the money”. If this is the case, then we’re at a financial disadvantage right off the bat; for if we’re not “in it for the money” then we’ve inadvertently provided little reason for anybody to pay us. The vicious cycle takes hold once us artists begin devaluing our own self-worth and the output has thus been tainted. Something needs to change.
Free Lance-a-Lot
Are we destined to believe that the struggle to be creative is a part of what makes that output so beautiful- i.e. the romanticism of the starving artist? Are we in need of a revival, a Renaissance? Art schools are out there, but all of them cost a considerable amount of money. Should there be artistic trade-schools? Similar to auto-mechanics or electric work, an affordable program that certifies an artist’s place and their right to earn a reasonable income within the American workforce, could instruct its creative pupils on how to read a map of monetizing the aesthetic (these do exist, but are predominantly tech-heavy and aimed toward the Production sector of the industry).
I think part of the problem is that art can be freelanced to a much greater extent than most other vocational fields. And because the rungs on the ladder to success within this field are more difficult to identify than in other professions, there are a lot of us wading around in the waters of free agency. Here, it is often easy to find ourselves feeling lost or frustrated, particularly against the backdrop of how the vast majority of humans “do business”.
These feelings, while certainly valid, may often emerge as the result of simply looking at it through the lens of the only system we’ve known, a paradoxical vacuum within which we find a way to seek approval from the very beast our voices are rebelling against. We need to view ourselves and our path through a different lens, one that we create and develop through practice and a whole lot of patience – temporal, mental or otherwise.
A shift in perspective is a very simple way of figuring out how to establish an artistic career. Think about our surroundings: if we live in a huge city, then we should be excited to know that there are entire neighborhoods, schools, and organizations dedicated to this thing we love and this is where we should probably be spending the bulk of our time. Instead of worrying about oversaturation, we can devote some time to discovering these communities and individuals who share our passion.
If we live in a smaller town, then our craft is rare and we can embody a greater entrepreneurial spirit when it comes to showcasing our talents and shipping our creative output. I experienced this as a musician in a tiny mountain town in Colorado where the talent pool was vastly thinner; if you could really play, you could earn a living. These smaller communities are also places where we can have a more direct impact, offering lessons, establishing collectives, and hand-delivering the aesthetic to the community, as a gift to be embraced.
If we wish to be somewhere other than the place we are in order to give and receive artistic inspiration, then we should make every possible effort to be there. But we also must be capable of reminding ourselves that it is inherently unique to possess an artistic skill worth sharing.
If we erase the “business as usual” background and replace it with one of our own choosing, perhaps then we can avoid the damning of the suits, the schools, the Swifties, and the haters. Perhaps then we can create freely, just like when we were kids singing and dancing our way around the living room. Though, now there’s a $10 cover charge.