Have you ever noticed that though most people will agree that art is what makes life beautiful, what adds meaning to every day life, no one wants to pay for it?
I was wandering through the Steampunk Exhibition at the Old Stone Bank here in Providence on Saturday, and found myself in awe in front of a gorgeous illustration. On hand-aged parchment, with various kinds of ink, appeared a scene of some amazingly intricate zeppelins, flying above brick buildings. I could've stared at the details for hours, but instead I let my eyes wander down to the price tag on the piece. My heart caught in my throat. 75 dollars. I couldn't afford it.
Bitterly, I wandered back out of the exhibition into the street. 75 dollars is actually underpriced for a piece that clearly took hours of work, nevertheless materials, and had I had the money, I would've paid even more for such a piece. Alas, one starving artist cannot afford to purchase another's work - though that is how the majority of the arts community survives: reciprocation. I am paid a small amount to work on a show, an amount that barely covers my transportation costs, never mind food and shelter for that week. You come out to see my show - amazing, thank you! In return, I'll use what little money I may have left to come see your show next weekend. And the cycle goes on. I'll build you a skirt, if you paint a portrait of my dog. If you bake me dinner, I'll hem your pants.
No one goes into these fields with the mindset "If I become a theater technician, I'll make loads of money!"
We go into jobs in the arts community because we think "If I become a costume designer, I'll make art." To an Aquarian such as myself, making art is like breathing. Without it, I would slowly die. Maybe not physically, but soulfully. Art is how I communicate, how I think, how I live. It makes me happy.
No one will pay you to be happy. They will pay you to flip burgers or walk their dogs, because they have "real" jobs. They will encourage you to marry a man with a steady income so he can support you in your endeavors. They will look at you with disdain when you assure them that you can live on a steady diet of cereal and apples, because you spent most of your stipend on a new canvas or needlepoint project. They will tell you to forget about it, if they say "Oh my gosh, I love your dress! How much would it cost for you to make me a custom dress?" and you give them a quote that is accurate and what you deserve.
Then you see the costumes you've slaved over for the past two weeks on stage. You see a canvas full of warmth and color and meaning. You hear the audience catch their breath as the cauldrons are lit. A little girl squeals in delight at the new soft toy she has received.
That sort of payment is unmeasurable.
But I wouldn't complain if someone decided to actually pay me what my skills are worth. That Bachelor of Fine Arts was expensive, yo!
Money is worth what it will help you to produce or buy, and no more. ~ HENRY FORD
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