Who in their Right Mind would be an ARTIST?!

This morning I read a very interesting article by an American writer named Monica Byrne, titled "How Do Artists Make a Living? An ongoing, almost impossible quest". Although she is not a visual artist, her observations are pretty much universal for all artists. 

Arts funding is being cut. Galleries are closing. Artists are having to work at other professions in order to keep their financial heads above water. Monica's final paragraph was particularly startling in its slap in the face relevance -

"Art isn’t some incidental decoration on culture. It is culture. But there is no art without artists, and there are no artists without compensation. Quid pro quo. It’s as simple as that."

But where can artists source this mythical compensation? Who is going to provide such compensation? Without some sort of living wage, the majority of artists are not in their ideal position - having their art support them financially.

Of the artists whom the East End Gallery represents, they have the alternative, varied professions such as teaching, nursing, law, agriculture, administrative, education, and hospitality as their "day jobs". Michael's two previous wives were not encouraging of his artistic endeavours, forever steering him back into "real" jobs with stable incomes. We now support ourselves primarily through Michael's disability pension, my carer payment and rent on our two vacant shops, if and when they are leased.

Due to the stagnation of our economy (and the most boring election campaign in history), even that income is precarious. We have one empty shop to lease with another becoming untenanted as of this week. There are no new lessees on the horizon at present. Our house has been up for sale for eight months now without a single nibble. 

And, naturally, although our income has dropped, our expenses remain the same. For health and financial reasons, we have both stopped drinking and Michael has finally, thankfully quit the fags (most of the time). We are looking to cut costs wherever we can. We have just sourced some free firewood for heating. I am using cheap cuts of meat and buying in bulk (when we can afford to do so) and the slow cooker and casseroles are in full swing. Leftovers are being carefully frozen for other days.

And this week we suffered an unforeseen tragedy. Whilst eating dinner, one of Michael's fillings shattered. We have to go to the dentist before the broken tooth becomes a catastrophe. More unexpected outgoings. My car is well past its service date. As for nice bras, I am currently wearing cotton crop tops, hoping the sagging boobs aren't too noticeable.

Tonight we are looking forward to a treat. We are off to a friend's home for dinner. A lamb roast! And no dishes! And another guest to the Gallery gave us a bottle of vino, so we are cutting loose. We shall eat and drink like royalty.

This week, I need to contact the Bank. We had hoped our house would have sold by now and we could have paid off our credit cards, which we have used, extensively, for the Forbes Building's renovation. No such luck and the interest on these cards is killing us. We need to move this debt to our housing loan, which is at a far lower interest rate. If we can remove that ball and chain from around our necks, we will be able to breathe a little easier until we eventually sell the House that Rocks.

In the meantime, all this uncomfortable gnashing of teeth makes not the slightest difference. We are in this vocation or vision for the long haul. One of our prime ministers memorably noted that "life wasn't meant to be easy".  and our lives are not easy. That reality changes nothing. I am a writer. Michael is a metal sculptor. We run the East End Gallery. We ARE artists.