When I dropped by Laura's place yesterday to pick up aqua paint for my herring set dressing, I caught her working on her latest polymer clay (brand name Fimo) creations: owls. She shapes them around eggs, which gives them their cheery fatness.I am always encouraging (harassing?) Laura to start selling her art online, so she could eventually quit cleaning houses for a living. It upsets me to see how that heavy work damages her already fragile hands. I even started a blog for Laura last year, but now I have lost the password. Some manager I'd be.Some are, but most artists I know--including me-- are not very good at administrative skills, at least at managing their own art (including writing) as a business.
There may be some self-protection going on: the art itself wants to stay small and close to home; the art-making self knows that the marketplace would knock it sideways.
Sometimes I think we may be afraid, not having the skills to deal with the bright bustle. And possibly afraid for good reason: the energy is so different from--and sometimes antithetical to--art making. For some, attending to the business-side of art is like making an owl hunt during the day.
What it takes to make art does not always coexist with what it takes to pay the bills. Yet the bills are real.
Well, this is nothing new... I'm just thinking aloud here; I don't know what to do about this conundrum myself. When I work for other people very much, my own creative self shuts down. Mostly I've always lived on the cheap, to keep my time free. But moviemaking is making me think more about this: it costs money, even just buying tag board and tin foil, as writing does not.
And then, I wonder how this money/time exchange will play out as I get older. I guess I'll find out, godwilling.