 Have you ever wondered how visual artists go about pricing their work? After an art exhibition a number of years ago, I had a man approach me and tell me that although he liked my work he thought it was too expensive. He then made a comment about how nice it must be to be a rich artist. (Enter blank stares and the sound of crickets). I honestly didn’t know how to respond. What it did reinforce was the serious gap in understanding of artistry as a profession, and the apparent mystery of pricing structures for artwork. When you purchase artwork (just like when you purchase an item from any store) it’s not simply the physical item you are paying for. An artwork purchase covers materials, time, skill, education and professional development, rent, heating, insurance, etc. It’s much more comprehensive than the finished product. This is referred to as the Daily Cost Of Doing Business (DCODB). (If you’re an artist who is curious, there’s calculators online that will help you figure out exactly what you need to financially support your artistry!) Artists need to do more than just cover the material costs of creating the work, they must be able to pay themselves a salary to live on that enables them to continue to create new works and support themselves through life (just like with any other work path). Artists must be able to create a fair and sustainable salary for themselves in their pricing framework. Pricing is a great source of stress for many artists. Our society is so accustomed to sales and low prices offered at box store chains that we easily wince at price tags. We're quick to compromise quality if we can get something cheap. We sure do love a good sale. (And there’s a lot of psychology that goes along with it, by the way.) A visual artist who is selling their own work can not and should not compete with box store pricing and bargain hunting tendencies. Mass produced artwork is a completely different commodity with factors that individual artists cannot compete with. There are other aspects to consider as well - the artist does not get recognition for their work and we have no way of knowing if the work has been appropriately licensed. So, I have a challenge for us. Next time we see a work of art, let’s take a moment to consider everything that went into creating it. Think about the basic cost of materials, the labour time - all that the artist would need to make it happen. It adds up quickly. Does the price represent those basic costs in addition to their DCODB? As we start to do a quick little calculation, we will likely see how many artists actually undercharge! And remember, artists only get paid if they sell the work. There's a tremendous amount of overhead, investment and risk involved. There's also a great deal of work involved apart from artwork creation that takes up an artist's time and energy. All aspects of this profession should be accounted for. If the man, who thought I was overcharging to live the high rolling life, had taken that moment to consider the cost of an entire gallery of artwork - the result of my full-time work for a year and a half - perhaps his comment would have been, “How can you make a living as an artist?” As I look back I realize I actually significantly undercharged because of the fear of someone commenting on the price. I didn't want to have to justify my value. But I have sold pieces that didn’t even cover my time and materials because of that fear. Thankfully I have had mentors and clients that did see my value - even before I saw it myself - and that has helped me to continually examine my pricing structures to better reflect the comprehensive, true cost of artistry.  Have you read the first three parts of The Cost of Artistry series? You can catch up here: Part Three: Money Where My Mouth Is Part Two: What Do Artists Do All Day? Introduction  It was the third time I had been in his art gallery. I was filled with joy and told him so. I gushed how much his artwork spoke to me as I poured over each piece. And then I left. I walked about half a block down the street and became acutely aware of my hypocrisy. It was uncomfortable. If I loved his work and it meant so much to me then why on earth was I not considering a purchase? How did my words actually support him? I knew exactly what I needed to do. I looked at my husband, talked realistically about our budget and walked back into the gallery. I said to the artist, “I can’t ooze about how much I love your work and then fail to tangibly support you. I am able to spend (x amount) of dollars. What do you have available in that range?” As a show of appreciation he offered me a discount. I declined. That was not the point. I needed to fully walk the talk. I needed to put my money where my mouth was. I wanted to show the artist that his work was worth more than my words and that it had true value - value that I was willing to invest in. Here’s the thing. I would love to not talk about money. I have had encounters (some that I will share in future posts) that have me feeling nervous about talking about cashflow for artists. But those encounters tell me that it needs to be talked about and the reality is we all use money to provide for our needs and pay our bills. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if we returned to trading goods for goods - would it be any better? My art purchase isn't about an artist's greed or preoccupation with money (trust me, most artists aren't in it for the money), it is a tangible symbol of support. It is a way to demonstrate that I see the artist's value and I want to support the work they do. And by supporting their work in a tangible way I spur them on to continue to create. If we believe in the value of the Arts then we must support the Arts. And if we want to support the Arts we must tangibly support Artists. Encouragement is wonderful and valuable in its own right but words plus action have significantly more impact. I don't want my words to become platitudes that leave someone questioning my sincerity. If I love their work as the words coming out of my mouth clearly state, then what action can I take to demonstrate what I claim? Was I all talk? As it was on that day outside of the gallery, I came face to face with the reality of whether or not I was willing to act on what I believe. I didn't have a huge budget that day but I did what I could in order to align my values with an immediate action I could take. Some days I can make the purchase. Other days, I can't. But I realized I was never making the purchase and that made me concerned. The question of whether or not I am walking the talk is something I am continually asking myself. We are all works in progress and change comes over time. So, I keep asking the question, checking in with myself and letting myself grow. I approach it with curiosity and challenge, not with guilt or shame. Am I supporting artists to the best of my ability - where I'm at right now? As an artist, am I participating in activities that undercut other artists or compromising values that ultimately hurt Arts advocacy? Is there a change I could make that would help me to take a step in the direction I want to go? Is there something else I can do that would help me put my money where my mouth is? I know the power of one simple step and the ripple effect it has. That's change I want to be part of. Post Two: What Do Artists Do All Day? Post One: An Introduction  Have you ever seen the BBC documentary series, What Do Artists Do All Day? Each episode follows an established visual artist around for a few days and we are given insight into their creative process. It’s wonderful - I love those behind the scenes moments! To watch a visual artist, a musician, an actor, a dancer, or a writer in the midst of their process is amazing, inspiring and captivating. It’s incredible to watch them do what they do. The process is rarely easy - when it appears that way, it’s years of practice that has prepared them to work with the excellence they do now. I’m so grateful for artists, how they see the world and how they persevere to bring us their perspective through their artistic discipline.
How poignant that this process is not often viewed as work. Artists are frequently confronted with all sorts of stereotypes. When asked what I do for work I often get a cocked eyebrow and clarifying questions, “No. I mean, what do you do for money?” "What do you do all day?" The legitimacy of an artist and the work they do are constantly challenged. Isn’t it peculiar how we are prone to jump to conclusions about what we do not know? Take social media for example: we see perfectly curated family pictures of someone’s life and we assume that their life is easy, that they’ve got it all together. Yet, we neglect to tell our rational selves that they’re probably not posting all the mess and struggle. Even when someone has a life trajectory that is similar to ours we still assume that they’ve got things more figured out than us. Is that how it is with artists? Because we’re only seeing the highlights we figure that their lives are filled with wine, paint and contemplation? Are we filling in the blanks with assumptions and stereotypes? And the creative side is only one part of an artist’s work equation. We have easily recognized the administrative side of many occupations so why not with artists? As an artist I am the CEO of a creative business. I also manage all administrative, operational, financial and creative aspects of this business. I must balance the daily demands with creative output. I aim to follow my creative calling but also am faced with the reality of bills that need to be paid - and have to find a way to navigate this challenge. And I must resist the urge to overwork to try and prove my worth in a world that challenges the validity of my profession. In the introductory post of The Cost of Artistry I spoke about having to advocate for the value of artistry and how the Arts are often viewed as a luxury. It pains me to feel like these conversations are necessary - to be put in positions where I have to talk about artistry as a legitimate, worthy career choice. But these conversations must continue until we see artists fully integrated into culture, where artists are commissioned and paid on a regular basis, where artists do not need to supplement their income with other work, where organizations do not approach artists with “opportunities for exposure” but with offers that make it worth the artist’s time and talent, where art inquiries are given with adequate time allowance and event budgets have artists at the top of their priorities. I look forward to that day. Through these posts I will continue to remind us that change really does start with each one of us. We "prove" the value of the Arts by ensuring that we are indeed valuing the Arts in our own lives through our actions. Our talk must match our walk - and that is a work in progress for all of us. Next week I will share a story about a time when I realized that I wasn’t walking my talk, how it ended up teaching me a powerful lesson and encouraged me to make a change.  I have been sitting on a series of posts that I began in 2014 about life as an artist: The Cost of Artistry. They never made it past the draft stage yet there they sit... and I still find myself often thinking about their contents. As I continue to engage in the same topics of conversation and wrestle with the same issues I know that it's time to finally share my perspective. It is my hope to offer a little insight into the sometimes mysterious and often misunderstood life of an artist. My perspective continues to grow and develop in how to best cultivate an arts culture that is thriving and valued - I suspect sharing these thoughts and stories will continue that process for me and perhaps for you too. I have been involved in the arts my whole life. Music was my first love and it felt like a natural progression to study music and education in University. Classes on theory, composition and orchestration were combined with hours in the practice room, preparing pieces for masterclasses and juries. The education side taught us classroom management, lesson planning and curriculum development. All of this was expected. As were the lessons on how to advocate for our jobs when the inevitable budget cuts impacted Arts education. The Arts are often deemed a luxury - something that is entertained when everything else is taken care of. As University students we studied scientific research so we could prove the positive impact the Arts has on child development. We felt the pressure to perform and have our students perform at high levels so that we could prove that our programs had merit and worth. We experienced the familiar ache when watching movies like Mr. Holland's Opus or Music of the Heart that addressed the widespread reality of funding cuts for Arts education. We had experienced it as children in arts programs and we were picking up the baton to fight on in our adulthood. It saddens (and frustrates) me that 20 years later these struggles continue. I suppose that's a big reason why I never published these posts. I want it to be rainbows and butterflies. I want it to be easy. But we're still having to prove the worth and value of the Arts and it's wearying. If you're reading this I likely do not need to convince you of the value of the Arts. We know that the Arts helps us to view life with a depth that isn't possible by any other means. Through music, painting, dance, poetry, sculpture and countless other artistic expressions, we have the vehicles in which to examine life. These are not luxuries - they are necessities. This is not a competition between science and visual art or arithmetic and music, it all has its place. However, the richness and fullness that the Arts brings has been overlooked and undervalued. It is an essential element in our lives, one that many of us acknowledge yet the same struggles remain. As I begin a new chapter in my own life I still feel the need to continue advocating for the value of the Arts but I no longer feel the same need to prove their value. The Arts have value and worth whether or not it is seen and upheld. But for those of us who know and have experienced the impact and necessity of the Arts in our own lives, it is up to us to support artists and ensure that they have the means to continue to create. That is the place from which I share. Even as a professional artist I am still being challenged on how to best support artists and I hope that sharing my experiences helps us all to find more ways to ensure the health of the Arts in our communities.  I find myself at the end of every year, wondering where the time went. I begin every December desiring the quietness that comes with a fresh blanket of snow, yet only being able to carve out little moments, here and there. The hustle and bustle carries on and then it's over before I can fully take hold of anything. Holiday movies end and clearance sales begin. Christmas music and the cheerful greetings are silenced. I've attempted wishing people a Merry Christmas after the 25th and it was met with cocked eyebrows. There's a time limit on the merriment, don't you know? With every year, I become a little more rebellious and push the limits of the season. What is Christmas if I cannot carry it over into the new year? Would not my heart and yours be better off with a season that lingers long into the frozen new year? What if we continue to look for and embrace the Light of the World in the dark days of January? As the advent calendars are tucked away, I choose to remain in the Light of Jesus - to bask in the hope, joy, peace and love that is the foundation of all that truly feels like Christmas. I attended a liturgical church in my youth and we didn’t actually begin singing songs about Jesus’ birth until Christmas Day and through the 12 days until Ephiphany (when the three wise men were acknowledged). Advent was a time of longing and waiting. I wonder if we end up missing out on all of it. I have spent this week in pursuit of the still small voice I always long to hear when the busyness of December takes over. It was as I suspected... in every snowflake, singing bird and frosty tree. You came like a winter snow  give way to this space last breaths still to come awakened to necessity it is here work to be completed leave it be to the very end quiet the rush hurdling toward tomorrows heart open to the in-between erin stinson  Over the Family Day long weekend, my husband and I, along with 3 other couples from the Wood Buffalo Photography Club, journeyed up the winter road to Fort Smith, NWT. Traveling over frozen rivers and icy marshes, through lush forests and over winding sand hills, the trip is an experience like none other. Having made the trip before we knew more of what to expect and added an extra day to soak up the experience. The first day we drove all the way from Fort McMurray to Fort Smith, arriving 11 hours later with our hearts full from the foxes, ptarmigan and northern hawk owls that came into our view. The beautiful white ptarmigan were on the top of my wish list so I was over the moon to finally see them! The road North takes us through a variety of landscapes, each of them stunning in their own special way. The next morning, in particularly frigid temperatures, we were privy to a lovely soft sunrise, with the fog from the Pelican Rapids streaming across the Slave River valley. We made our way back through Wood Buffalo National Park where we saw many signs of the bison who make their home there but they chose to stay tucked out of sight. The next night was spent in Fort Chipewyan where we were greeted with a huge sun dog over the Canadian Shield and we had the opportunity to learn about some local history at the Bicentennial Museum. I am eager to visit Fort Chipewyan in the summer months and see it when all the ice has melted. It is an absolutely stunning area with a rich history. Our last stretch back home was a snowy day but we were delighted to see great grey owls and witness a flurry of activity involving an otter, a snowshoe hare and some panicking ptarmigan. I'm already wondering what wonderful things we will see on our next journey North.  The Alberta Legislative Assembly Office operates a beautiful retail store called Alberta Branded. Each year they have a juried showcase around a specific theme and I have the honour of being one of ten Albertan artists who will create new works for this year's exhibition. The theme is Façonner, which means to shape, fashion or mould. New works will be created all year long and I'm eager to continue to explore the theme, allowing it to unfold and adapt over these next months. I'm also quite intrigued to see the works of the other artists and how they have approached the theme from their own medium and point of view! Façonner: We shape to adapt a form, thereby directing a course. We fashion to reflect personal style and the current nature of the world. We mould to influence, creating a matrix. - Alberta Branded The artwork I have created (and will continue to create this year) for Façonner is rooted in natural elements. Each piece is formed in response to the unfolding story I see revealed to us through Creation. Extracting basic lines and shapes from the intricate natural world, I explore an elemental approach to my experiences. Observing light, colours, shapes and lines, the subjects are deconstructed then fashioned into layered mixed media artworks. Natural materials (like birch bark and wildflowers collected to dye fabric and paper) are incorporated into each piece along with conventional materials (like acrylic, watercolour, paper and clay). The process of gathering and preparing materials allows me to infuse more of what I encounter into each work. My story reflects the observations and reflections within the beauty of the Province of Alberta, including our five National Parks and my home in the Northern boreal forest. As I continue to witness the unfolding story around me, I am left with a peaceful clarity that has shaped my life. Reflecting these experiences and this clarity are integral parts of these works.   Before Beaverville, Liana and I had planned on collaborating for a dual exhibition filled with mixed media works on a smaller scale. Giving each other creative freedom we decided that we would focus on the natural surroundings of the boreal forest where we live, create small mixed media pieces and the rest was up to our own creative process and interpretation. We created our works individually, only allowing ourselves to bring the works together for the final exhibition. I found myself drawn to the challenge of creating things on a miniature scale, exploring a variety of techniques and finding new ways to use natural and recycled materials. Here are the works I created along with my personal interpretation of Little by Little: Maybe it's the little things that matter most... Perhaps we get so caught up in the big picture we lose sight of the purpose in each day - in each stage - of life. And what if, like the boreal forest around us, we too are meant to live in seasons? Is it possible that the smaller steps (even when they feel like steps backward) are part of our growth too? This collection of 'little' pieces (using gathered and recycled natural elements) are reflections on the natural world in its seasonal acts of obedience. I may desire summer with the fullness of green and its long, warm days, but each period of growth has a beautiful purpose that leads into the next. The slowness of the cycle of life, from winter dormancy to fall harvest, is an integral piece of our story. |
