Screaming from the window

"I am mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore" but what am I supposed to do with this anger?  Should I open the window and scream? Would you like to join me? 

I have so many things I want to say but I don't have the energy to get into it (isn't that what they want). My salty tears and mood are mostly about artists and our continued poor earnings and exploitation and the broken system we are attempting to operate in. My anger is fueled by the myriad of reports (this is the latest) that back that last statement up and the cherry on top is the racist xenophobic radge I sat next to on a recent bus journey.  

I am the master of looking for the positive spin, the humour, and the story of it all but I am really fucking tired of conjuring up this way of coping in order to make other people feel more comfortable or to make my rage more palatable.

So you can see why I am short on words this week. Yelling from the window seems the best option. I will meet you there. 

Your exposure is my exploitation

Between fear and joy (that's where we live), works on paper, 2024

Thanks to everyone who read and shared my studio blog last week. That post was my most viewed of the year.

There is clearly a systemic misunderstanding of what artists do, how we live, and what we need and want. There is also a devaluation of our time, skills, and methods. Continuous gatekeeping and obfuscation at every turn is the norm. The results of this continue to land on the artists with wounding effects.

These broken systems dine out on the culture we create, yet we are left holding the tab. Emotionally, physically, and financially, we suffer, while the systems that claim to support us grow and thrive. The very systems that pit us against each other while also breaking us down and filling us with doubt. 

Artists seem to be meant to live speculatively and unmoored. Our faith, resilience, and dedication towards creation are meant to sustain us wholly. This is untenable. 

I am not your creative economy. I am an artist. 

I am not your academy. I am an individual. 

I am not your content creator. I am a worker. 

Your exposure is my exploitation. 

My art is my life, not just one part of it. 

I deserve ground under my feet. 

I deserve to be seen and understood. 

I deserve to live well. 

We all do.