“Artrepenuers,” A Maladjusted Perspective

Art world career advice encourages artists to self-identify as entrepreneurs. Think yourself as a business. Serious artists already do this; they track art-related expenses, keep receipts and market their work. But should artists view themselves as entrepreneurial super creatures to attain financial success and recognition?

I say no. Making a living as an artist is a tricky enterprise best approached with a trust fund and/or easy access to capital. Only the few art hipsters roaming late night urban party scenes possess these rare attributes. Even rich parents are of little use, unless one can finagle complete financial and emotional support. Most artists struggle to create and market their art while working at another job.

Those that manage to make a living off their art eventually resent the work that sells unless they've actually attained art star status. There’s a reason it’s called the bottom line: net profit equals degree of livelihood. For most artists, their "real" work is antithetical to the bottom line because it is harder to sell. Successful artists keep their nose to the grindstone and eventually arrive at some utopia where they shed their financial worries.

The artistic process typically does not factor for deadlines, trends, the Dow-Jones, marketing and revenue. The notion of artist as entrepreneur seduces artists into believing that all they have to do is identify as an "artreprenuer" and success will follow. Tracking expenses, e-marketing, contacting galleries and applying for exhibitions are only a good start. The real work lies in positioning one’s art to sell. Now, that’s a process.

And that brings artists back to the same old million dollar question: How to sell your art. Whereto find one’s artistic niche. All the good stuff artist self-help advice purports to cover but really doesn't.

Today the board books arrived in 6 glorious cardboard boxes marked, "Printed in Hong Kong." It feels so anti-clamatic, two years in the making: I spent the first year freaking out and procrastinating and the second year researching, designing and fundraising. Which brings me to an interesting thought on process. Today, the culmination of all my efforts to bring the little book to life has manifested in 1,000 copies of books to sell.

Now what? I ask my self this halfway terrified because it is time for me to take the leap and begin the hardest part of the process: promoting the little books. Six boxes filled with 1,000 books sit right in my line of sight and it is up to me to distribute them. Up to me to follow through on my plans to visit each store on my list which I carefully and surreptitiously researched at my good gig.

Ok, I digress to discussing my good gig. I'll never forget the day an artist told me it was important to have a good gig. The good gig provides the financial peace of mind I need to implement my plans. I have written about my former financial woes ad nauseam so I won't air them here. There was nothing romantic about not making enough income to meet basic needs. Other artists could live on the fly or better, exhibiting and selling enough artwork at summer art fairs to sustain them. But I could not so I got a good gig at a nonprofit that covers the bills and gives me enough time to pursue MaladjustedArt.

So here I am, with 1,000 books to sell. I am very excited because I have had a lot of positive responses about them. They really are cute! Every bratty and pithy resentment ever felt is laid bare in the pages and illustrated with characters from my subconscious. How many times have you wanted to tell someone they were wrong but bit your tongue? How many times have you allowed a boss to degrade you and you played dead because it was easier? Aren't snide remarks fun?

Honestly, the book will release your subconscious. Well, at least it released mine and it feels liberating. I'll leave the final verdict on whether these books are liberating to others. I will be happy if it just brightens a stranger's day and allows them to enjoy their inner brat. I like to think I am making art for the grassroots, true, it is mass-produced but that's the point: Art for the masses.

I am not interested in the hoity-toity world of the fine art gallery world. I lost interest when I realized gallery representation was not financially favorable to the artist. Artists need to seriously question whether gallery representation is really worth it. Galleries typically take 50% commission and demand that you direct all sales to them. I suppose this arrangement would be fine if the artist could still make a living.

But many artists with gallery representation are still at their good gigs or crappy day jobs, struggling financially. What kind of a deal is that? One that I passed on, opting to take my art to the masses instead.

I entered the global economy last fall, when I began to get serious about publishing an artist book. Two years ago, my boyfriend and I collaborated on artwork that became MaladjustedArt. He would say snide and pithy statements and I would document my subconscious reaction by drawing with my left hand. You can see our collaboration at http://www.maladjustedart.com/.

After drawing about 20 images, I laid them out on my studio floor to decide how I should develop the work. Initially, I had planned on painting them because I considered myself a painter back then. But as I looked the images together, the images really wanted to be a children’s board book. There was no doubt that a board book would suit the artwork perfectly, with its childlike, crude drawings and pithy, bratty statements.

It took me two years to get serious about making the book and begin researching the cost and places. Soon, I discovered that no companies in the U.S. printed children’s board books; apparently it was done overseas. My heart sank when a second publisher I called confirmed this. The thought of transacting business overseas scared the shit out of me. After all, how was a Podunk artist like me supposed to transact business overseas?

The term globalization brought to mind evil corporations, overworked and abused factory laborers in developing countries and manufacturing job loss in the U.S. I knew globalization was an economic reality, however, I had never dreamed that I would personally become involved in the global economy. Avoiding it was not an option because the book was too important to me.

So I continued my research until I found a printer in Hong Kong that did not require a gazillion copies for a minimum printing order. I emailed the printer for a quote and felt pleased with their timely response. I called them in the middle of the night to make sure they actually existed. A woman with a heavy Chinese accent picked up the phone and managed to connect me to Candice, whose name appeared in the emails I received from the printer. After speaking for a few minutes, I understood the advantages of email as verbal communication proved cumbersome and awkward.

The rest is history unfolding as I write. One thousand individually numbered copies of Slogans for the Maladjusted are set to arrive the first week in May. Once I pay the second installment via wire transfer, my bank account will be almost empty. I still can’t believe I did it.