The death of the starving artist

I wonder how many would-be-great artists are too busy serving me coffee

The starving artist has finally croaked, choked on the dry crumbs of an obsolete lifestyle. The time has passed when artists were revered public figures to be documented as the great influencers of their societies. Today, artists are car salespeople, restaurant servers, and call centre representatives, or they are fortunate enough to be supported by family or domestic partners. I, personally, can count on one finger the number of artists I know to live alone, and to support themselves solely on their chosen art form.

The romantic images of painters toiling away in their studios, musicians penning sheet music furiously in front of pianos, and writers subsisting on wine and baguettes in Parisian apartments are largely historical, no longer reflecting even moderately sustainable pathways for the creatively inclined. The reality is that many artists do not practice their arts, because they cannot afford to. They are busy making a living through “day jobs,” which they may or may not see as temporary necessities. Some forsake their arts entirely, distracted for too long by the daily grind, and some plan on returning to their passionate roots, and never do. There are various grants available, but they are not guaranteed support, and require a demonstrable history as a professional artist. This takes years of dedication to develop, and people willing to pay what artwork is worth are few and far between.

Because of the high cost of living in any arts hub in Canada — Montreal, Toronto, and, yes, our rising star of Hamilton — it has become not a noble pursuit but a luxury to practice any art form above the level of amateur hobby. An artist who decides to dedicate their life to doing what they are passionate about, and what they are good at, is more likely to be scorned and criticized for their lack of economical contribution to society than to be praised for their cultural value. An artist who attains financial stability without a typical 9-5 job will be envied for living a leisure lifestyle.

I suppose this is the crux of my argument: pursuing art as a career choice is mistaken for just not working, which is why artists are so often asked to work for free. Unlike in the golden age of the noble painter or philosopher, who would give their time and talents to society because it was virtuous to do so, a person’s productivity is synonymous with financial return, and until an artist is financially successful, they are outside of the economic machine. Those who can afford the unreliable income are perceived to be taking advantage of the hard work of others, and those who cannot, but do it anyway, are the unemployed dregs of humanity.

I am one of the fortunate. I have a partner with an elite career, an appreciation for the arts, and an uncommon commitment to supporting long-term success over shortterm paycheques. I have the luxury of working as an artist — and believe me, it is work. I am working right now, singing for my supper as I write this article. Several years ago, I had two day jobs, and was operating with a significantly less robust range of content, lower rate of follow-through, and minimal overall career-goal progress. Had I succumbed to an alternate lot in life, I likely would not have the freedom and opportunities to pursue and accomplish the milestones that are critical to success as a working artist.

It is the alternative career choice paradox: a day job makes it very difficult to put the time and effort into succeeding as an artist working solely in the arts, but without a day job, an artist cannot make the money they need to continue thriving while they pursue their larger goals. As a culturally inclined Hamiltonian, I wonder how many wouldbe-great artists are too busy serving me coffee to serve the greater good of our community.

I suppose this is the crux of my argument: pursuing art as a career choice is mistaken for just not working.