The World is Cruel, But We Are Artists
art in the age of mass-consumption
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When I sit at my computer, I am torn between the desire to create art that slows, moves, and challenges, and the looming pressure to create work that is clickable. Loud. Immediately applicable. Gratifying in the ironic, greasy way a drive-through happy meal is.
While I am prone to meandering, teasing at the edges of a question, and pulling ideas apart piece by piece, I am routinely reminded to offer more more more in less less less time and it feels like the greatest threat to the authenticity of my art. Between trending aesthetics and an economy fuelled by overconsumption, it’s difficult to shake the fear that any artistic process requiring dedication and time to create is futile.
Where in this money-hungry, dissociated world is there room for artists?
It often feels that there isn’t – except for within the confines of cheap, short-term gratification. Art challenges our current climate of mass production with its slowness and thoughtfulness. By nature, the artistic process is far more forgiving; there is room for trial and error and there is value in periods of failure and stagnation. Nothing is perfect on the first try, or the second, or the 1000th. Art is a labour of love.
“We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents.”
― Bob Ross
Creating art entails a deliberate process of unfurling and discovery. It’s intimate. There is value in a result that meets and exceeds expectations. That touches the consumer. That calls for pause.
I believe the wonder of art is its ability to feed the soul again and again. Where a trending shirt is made to last the season, the craftsmanship of a thoughtfully designed and consciously crafted piece ensures it lasts a lifetime. Sure, you could buy a set of mass-produced ceramic bowls every other season, but nothing quite comes close to the dimpled edge of a handmade bowl from a local artisan. That kind of beauty isn’t fleeting. It is art.
“That's the thing with handmade items. They still have the person's mark on them, and when you hold them, you feel less alone.”
― Aimee Bender, The Color Master: Stories
To be an artist in an era of rampant consumerism often feels stifling.
And I’ve reached a choking point — I’m a poet, after all. I write with my heart on the tip of my pen. It’s not in an artist’s nature to compromise soul in exchange for success, but capitalism demands that we at least tuck it up our sleeves and forget it there for a while. One might call this selling out. Another might call it doing what’s necessary to survive and, eventually (read: hopefully), flourish. A balance exists, though it is difficult to strike and I find myself teetering on this precarious edge.
Artists must continue to carve out spaces in our everchanging world — welcome or not. I believe we offer hope and reprieve where greed and cheap dopamine run rampant. The presence of artists in online spaces, for example, is integral. Substack is proof a desire for our work still exists.
Despite their monetary intentions, social media platforms are home to myriad artists. I am among many who continue to scour the digital folds for my next favourite poem, painting, song, or mug. Artists have this curious tendency to weasel into even the dampest of nooks and offer their light there. It is something I love about us. It is something the world takes for granted.
Still, I cannot help but feel this great, crushing pressure for artists to perform for profit instead of for pleasure, to dehumanise mediums that seek by their very nature to spur connection and compassion. After all, this is the great pleasure of art: to understand, to be understood, and, if nothing else, to question the gaps together.
The World is Cruel, But We Are Artists.
And it is our duty as artists to carve out space in every setting for our art. No matter who sees. No matter the challenges we may face. Art will always be vital for humankind.
Writing is my purpose and my salvation, I will continue to scrawl honeyed words until they swallow me whole. This world can be terribly cruel, but I am fierce — for I too am an artist — and I will continue cultivating this community of kindred spirits regardless of how successful my writing career turns out to be.
“If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.”
― Émile Zola
In the meantime, write, paint, sew, dance, sculpt, ruminate(!!) (out of spite, out of love, out of desperation) and rebel rebel rebel.
Yours from the nooks and digital folds,
Caitlin ❧
i love that i get to be an artist along side you and learn from you and REBEL with you <3 cheers to slow, delicious art that sustains the soul 🥂✨
I loved every single second of reading this. You touched on things I, and many of my creative friends, have been thinking about for what feels like forever at this point, and you brought a sense of peace and purpose to the discussion. Thank you for bringing clarity and inspiration to what can sometimes be a very exhausting and conflicting space!