One of the weirdest, quietest struggles I’ve had as an artist is just coming to terms with the fact that you have to monetize your work.
That sounds obvious, I know. But I mean it in that deeper, personal sense, like, yes, I want to make my art. I’d do it whether it made money or not. That part of me hasn’t changed since the beginning. The creative part. The part that wants to chase down ideas just because they haunt me. The part that finds beauty in things that probably don’t matter to anyone else.
But the thing is, you can’t keep making art at a high level (or at least sustainably) without money. You need gear. Time. Resources. Food. A roof. All the basics that support a creative life, and the more you want to push things, the more all that stuff costs.
So you start putting prices on things. You build systems. You make platforms. You promote. And it’s not “selling out” (I’m so over that term) but it does make you rethink a lot. Because once your art is tied to income, there’s always a voice somewhere whispering: “Will people pay for this?” And that can be a dangerous whisper, if you let it get too loud.
But I’m learning, again and again, that monetizing your art doesn’t have to mean compromising it. It means being intentional. It means protecting your vision while making space for people to support it. It means understanding that yes, you’re an artist, but you’re also running a business. And that doesn’t make you any less of either.
The hard part is figuring out the balance. And some weeks? You don’t feel balanced at all. But I’ve learned not to be ashamed of wanting to get paid for what I do, especially when I know how much of my life I’ve poured into it.
Art deserves to be valued. And that includes mine (and yours) too!