I try to keep it under wraps, but those close to me know that I easily stumble down rabbit holes. I have very niche curiosities and sometimes hours (let's be honest, weeks) of my life get sucked into the vacuum cleaner of obscure interests like wallpaper provenance or Cloisonism. I've been drifting around in a few of these black holes recently and was looking for a podcast on the artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.
Knowing that I was feeding my addiction (ahem) researching my rabbit hole, you can imagine my delight at finding a podcast that is simpatico with my research habits called ArtHoles. My first thought was that it was a podcast where the host went down art rabbit holes. Then I realized it was more likely a play on the word "assholes," and then I was even more delighted at the clever double entendre.
ArtHoles is a "reckless exploration of the weird world nobody talks about," and each season focuses on one famous artist like Frida Kahlo or Caravaggio. The first episode of the Toulouse-Lautrec season is 5.5 hours long...and doesn't even begin discussing Henri. It's a deep dive (or whirlwind summary, depending on how you look at it) of French history from the 800s up to around 1800 AD. This is an area of interest of mine, so I inhaled the 5+ hour comedic fever dream like I was a sugar addict entering Salt & Straw.
One thing that became glaringly obvious throughout the first episode is how impossible it was for anyone to change their circumstances throughout French history. For more than 1,000 years, the French were divided into the "haves" and "have-nots," and the wealth gap between them was staggering. Bootstrapping one's way up the ladder was impossible if you were a commoner, which was 97% of the population. The only way to be financially secure enough not to be hamstrung by legislation and taxed into starvation was to be born into royalty, nobility, or be in the clergy. While some things have changed, disparities like this still exist as we are moonwalking back to the Gilded Age in America.
In my life as an artist, it can be very easy to look at others and compare how my life matches up to theirs. Am I a peasant, or an aristocrat? How are my other peasant friends doing? What vacations are the aristocrats taking? It’s not that simple though and the reality is much more fuzzy.
We all have advantages and disadvantages. Some artists are juggling studio time with caring for kids, aging parents, or other family members. Others are dealing with a chronic illness. Some are the breadwinner for their family and are restricted by their financial responsibilities. Others are financially supported by a spouse or family member, or have passive income or an expected inheritance. Some artists have worked in other industries where they have developed strong networks that translate into opportunities in the art world.
Not one of these things determines whether or not you will be a successful artist. Rather than be debilitated by circumstances I can't change, I work to identify my advantages so that I can exploit them and my disadvantages to see if I can turn them into advantages.
Let me pull back the curtain and share some personal details about my life - I'm sure you can relate in one way or another.
My ongoing disadvantage is that I do not earn enough income through my art practice to live on. I also don't have another financial support system. This means I need to work additional jobs to afford living and working in Los Angeles County. This limits my time in the studio, slows my progress as a painter, and hinders my development as a working artist. Feeling bad about my circumstances is an unproductive use of my time that bums me out even more, flattening my motivation like a pancake.
I’m far from alone. The recent Anonymous Was a Woman survey of women artists’ lives and careers has some sobering results:
Women artists spend less than half their time actually making art
The rest of their time is consumed with other paid work and administrative tasks
Half (49%) of respondents depend on sources of income entirely unrelated to their art practice
You may be familiar with The Artist's Office origin story, but the short version is that I wanted to see if I could turn my disadvantage (the necessity of a day job) into an advantage. And for the most part, I have. The work I do for The Artist's Office doubles as work I do for my art practice.
I research open calls, test them out by applying for many of them, and use my investigative skills (advantage!) to assess the value of an opportunity. Over my 20 (or so) years of research, I now have one of the most comprehensive lists of grants for US artists. These resources form the core services of The Artist’s Office.
I also test things out like cold emailing, submitting to galleries that aren't asking to see my work, tracking the results of outreach vs. social media, and comparing different time management systems. I take professional development workshops like I am popping M&M's.
I offer my findings to other artists in a grounded, non-sales-pitchy, "real talk" kind of way. After all, I'm not selling myself or a product so much as being the messenger for ideas. This soothes my anxiety around self-promotion (another disadvantage spun into an advantage!)
And maybe more advantages in the form of inherent qualities are lying unnoticed or dormant, just waiting for me to straighten their tie and put them to work. When the needle feels unmovable or life doesn't seem fair, the potential for these qualities has stoked an exciting search and rescue mission, so I don't miss out on valuable resources that I already have.
There are plenty of examples of artists who were handed careers on a silver platter. But many artists have had to make lemonade from lemons (and opened windows when doors closed, just like Maria von Trapp) and used their debilitating injuries, psychological wounds, or poverty to fuel their art. Stepping back to look at the bigger picture of art history when I am blinded by immediate imbalances reminds me that I am not alone in my struggles. Thank you, rabbit holes!
Here’s to deep dives,
Virginia