Confessions of a Messy Art Bitch
A Diary Comic
It’s very confusing and weird to devote your life to making art. Art revolves around authenticity and vulnerability. And yet to make any income off of it you have to cram yourself into the tiniest, marketable boxes. It can really strip the soul out of the work.
I’ve always struggled to reconcile my authenticity with capitalism.
Art is so personal that it feels like you have to twist yourself into knots to please, then beg for pennies as you’re told repeatedly that your authentic self “isn’t relatable” or “sellable”.
I’ve pitched ideas that resonate with my truest self and have been told that there’s no market for them, repeatedly.
“Middle-aged women don’t read comics,” I’m told, as a middle-aged woman who reads comics. “That’s too niche”.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand that funding banks on ROI. It can just be disheartening to feel so driven to express yourself artistically only to learn that you have to compromise your integrity to pursue being your truest self.
It’s a Catch-22 that can really wear on you.
Listening to:
This is idea of “balance” is discussion we had many times when playing as a band. I love you work and can relate to your perspective, Phooly Cooly Sjule. Keep it up. :>
I love all these weekly posts, and Substack was preventing me from making an account for some reason but finally I was able to and now I can comment. Cool.
"Good, you?" is a work of art