Paint, Pens, and Paychecks

My mentor’s mentor was the late Louise Glück, an American poet and Nobel Prize winner. Her dream was to speak. 

Most artists and creatives have a message they’re conveying through their work, even if they are unaware of it. To speak seems a simple enough dream and yet, it is so easy for a voice to become lost. In the U.S., attacks are made on our right to free speech almost every day, but this is not U.S. specific. The same reasons voices are lost here are the reasons they are lost anywhere: fear, circumstance, and lack of use just to name a few. It’s only that America’s particular brand of voice-snatching is wrapped up in a package called “late-stage capitalism.” And this particular brand intimidates but doesn’t actually steal anything. Your voice is never stolen; you are just tricked into thinking it’s on mute and can't be heard above an endless stream of noise. It’s the idea that you can scream all you want, but not only will you tire yourself out, you will gain nothing from it. If you foolishly embark on this mission to make art and speak instead of getting a “real job,” you will be doomed to the fate of the “starving artist.” 

It’s strange, though. Capitalism is often considered to be where art goes to die. Yet, I continue to see art not only survive but thrive. 

When I think of art confronting strife, my mind keeps going back to an interaction between a British tourist and a performer for the “show-you-hate-the-most-but-see-no-one-got-hurt!” The tourist asked the performer why he insisted on swinging from subway bars, to which the performer replied with a genuine smile, “It’s what keeps me off the streets.” I’ll admit there was a bit of laughter in his voice, endeared by the tourist’s naivety and implied financial security, but an unexpected joy shone in his eyes. You could tell the performer loved something about his craft, even if it was born out of desperation. 

I also think back to a conversation my roommate and I had about how good and fun recession music is (take Ne-Yo and Pitbull’s “Time of Our Lives,” for example). We concluded that by no means does creativity thrive under capitalistic failures and circumstances—nor are we supporting the “tortured artist” narrative—still it’s true that wherever you find challenge, you’ll find resilience. You’ll also find the resounding truth that art is not so fragile as to die because a few old, rich men want it to. Its shape and distribution may slightly change, but there will always be an opportunity to speak, so speak. 

Even so, it’s understandably hard to figure out how to create under our current system. Afterall, we still have to pay bills and put food on the table. Here are a few tips I have picked up since moving to the heart of both capitalism and art (a.k.a. New York).

My first tip is to find a sugar daddy. No, I’m kidding (unless you want to, we listen and we don’t judge). If that’s not your thing, start by making the choice to live a more creative life. When I first moved to New York, I wasn’t at a place in my career where I could survive off of my writing. Luckily, the only material I need for my art is a pen and paper or the notes app. But that doesn't make the financial reality less burdensome. I had no job lined up. All I had was a dream, some savings, and my decision to live a creative life and find community. 

I found Drawing Room while looking for jobs in creative spaces. I had been going around to bookstores and artsy shops trying to get my foot in the door through any way possible. I actually joined Drawing Room back when hosts were expected to host once a month—and now you all see my face three times a week (cue evil laughter). Through hosting, I am inspired every day by my conversations with community members and seeing what they’re currently working on. Plus, I have learned so much from the workshops I’ve taken led by our one-of-a-kind instructors. It’s crazy to think I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t allowed myself to explore an art and community-centered path.

That is to say: you have to actively decide that from now on, you’re going to live a creative life. No ifs, ands, or buts. Stop waiting for permission. It won’t come. Work will not let up for your personal creative pursuits and money will not drop from the sky no matter how much we want these things to happen. At least, not in a consistent and sustainable way. You will have to make time and you will either have to budget or find a way to make more money. Either way, you will have to make the first move. Even whilst working at Drawing Room, I’ve taken on an internship at the poetry non-profit, Brooklyn Poets—trading in my help with the storefront for free workshops and classes. So, if you have extra availability, I always suggest offering your services up to creative companies or organizations. If you give to the community, the community shall give unto you. 

This advice is not reserved to working artists. It applies to those who just like to dabble as well. Everyone can benefit from prioritizing their creativity in one way or another, engaging in something other than work or TV. Where can you swap out a 3-hour doom scroll on TikTok for an hour workshop? You don’t have to be creative everyday, but make time for your art just as you would a loved one. It could be a weekly, monthly, or even bi-annual hang-out—but set a date and commit to it. Sign a contract with yourself and frame it if you need to. Registering for art events and workshops often helps me do the thing I’ve been meaning to do. 

If your dream is to be a full-time artist, but you currently lack the time to fully dive into building a body of work, remember to be patient and be easy on yourself. Be wary of burnout since that will only delay your progress in the long run. You still have to make a commitment but allow yourself to move slowly and consistently. If you can only commit to 5 minutes of painting or writing a day, start there. It adds up, I swear.

For those struggling with the money aspect, tap into your inner raccoon. Go into scavenger mode, picture yourself thrifting through the bins—the kind you need gloves for—whatever you need to do. There are a host of resources available to you, both in-person and online. If you need supplies, there are art drives, art swaps, and even art libraries wink wink that you can use. You’ll also be surprised by how many free or cheap workshops different organizations put on. Brooklyn Poets (shameless plug) offers a free writing group every Wednesday and Friday, as well as drop-in classes for only $25. Moreover, social media has been my best friend in this case because I am able to find and keep up with different businesses, communities, and fun pop-ups. Not only do a lot of places offer student, teacher, and senior discounts, but they also might offer scholarships to take their workshops, like Cleo’s Yarn in Brooklyn. The process for acquiring such scholarships, grants, and fellowships depends on where it’s coming from, but they exist and can be a great support to one’s work. You just have to open that door, which sometimes takes the form of a simple question.

Speaking of which, and I hate to say it fellow introverts, but you can save a lot of time and agony by socializing. Expanding your community and making friends through the events you attend immediately enlarges your support circle and can teach you about opportunities you didn’t know even existed. You also have people you can go to for feedback when you need it. A single conversation can go a long way since people love to talk about their passions. I personally love helping out a fellow artist or a chance to recommend my favorite places. 

Regardless of your predicament or goals, keep creating and create what you want. As Audre Lorde once said, poetry is not a luxury. I will extrapolate this to also mean art, in general, is not a luxury either. It is a necessity. In her essay of the same title, Lorde states, “If what we need to dream [art], to move our spirits most deeply and directly toward and through promise, is discounted as luxury, then we give up the core–the fountain–of our power…we give up the future of our worlds.” In other words, art heals our soul and allows us to imagine a way forward. To treat it as something expendable is to deny a crucial part of ourselves. Our art speaks from our own unique human experiences, making it possible to touch the hearts of other humans. Thus, even as capitalism continues to introduce worrisome things like creative AI, it cannot—and in fact refuses to—speak from that experience genuinely. No matter how tidy they make their sonnets, the lack of love and care is always detectable. Robots do not consider texture, connotation, or how to put themselves in conversation with the world around them when making art. They simply follow a prompt, while humans follow their hearts. Keep that in mind whenever you are feeling down in the throes of capitalism.