MONEY ISN'T WORTH ART | Article by Waters Breedlove

In almost all my life, I’ve been poor.
But undeniably in every life, I was an artist.
For a while now on Gaia, being born an artist is an affliction.
Soon to be a serious illness or crime.
Which is the most ridiculous thing, since our Earth is nothing if not a glorious Master Interdisciplinary Artist.
For eons, an illness has grown over our brilliant monkey minds,
Shaming creativity.
Shaming our natural connection to the Divine;
Who are you to think yourself special?
The pursuit of fame and fortune now co-opt the creative mind’s intent.
The inclination to share is art's magic speaking.
A long time ago artists recognized the call as something holier than contracts, endorsements & networking.
Because true art is born of emotion, wonder, playfulness, perfection, mastery.
It is a real reflection back into the world. Our collective unconscious giggling to itself, crying out, hoping, feeling, being the essence of life.
But all that's mocked now.
It’s a dirty world, and to make money, the art is compromised.

It is a real reflection back into the world. Our collective unconscious giggling to itself, crying out, hoping, feeling, being the essence of life.
But all that's mocked now.
It’s a dirty world, and to make money, the art is compromised.

Even fine-art, music & writing, tainted.

Money is not worth ART!

No one can simply be a creator. Not without scorching haze rituals.
You're only allowed a certain number of years to proclaim foolish desires. Then you better push that creative mind into a more applicable field.
Like to paint? Lots of houses to paint! But we tell you the color. 
No one questions how our society is constructed to squash & punish the creative mind.
Obstacles at every turn. Impossible for the typical introverted artist to gain affiliations earning slivers of grants and public funds often exclusively held for organizations.
Art Schools like expensive golden calves, unnecessary slaughters that only ensure debt. Like every other fool signing their lives and time away for a piece of paper. The joke on most artists is that says they can do what they did before. Sure, no one is handed the keys to their dream career. But not many can even compete in the arid desert of creative opportunities. It's not just a tough job market. It's a deliberate strangulation of spirit. It's not effecting artists. It's about all the people those artists would inspire.
Not just by infusing more color and light and storytelling into the environment. But that every person's imagination is alive, ready for inspiration in infinite capacities. It's the creative mind of the whole of humanity. The playful, inventive, intuitive, imaginative mind we're tricked into thinking isn't our domain. You can feel it tickling and urging you from the corners of your life. All of us have been urged to crush it from a young age.
Money is low vibration. Like the glib individual trying to sell you something dangerous & cheap over the phone. It has co-opted itself, like some impenetrable ceramic, over all things of value here.
It never was real to me anyway. Even when I was working 60-80 hours a week to pay for my art. Making money an annoying step to getting the real work done. Part of this game.
Most brilliant creators are working in slave-wage jobs, they don't see any other way. For many that ascension to being valued for their creative mind never happens. Barely making ends meet takes up most of their energy.
Smiling wearily at you as they serve your food. Your copies. Change your oil. Coding your website.
But secretly planning their precious few free hours to be lost in the exquisite world of CREATING.

Most brilliant creators are working in slave-wage jobs, they don't see any other way.

Gainful employment in professional artistic roles is often as denigrating to their personal work. Serving corporate or other low-brow aesthetics that is the creative equivalent to filing papers.
This world marches forward into grey, losing sight everyday of what beauty could exist.
The battle for true unfettered independence is like expecting unicorns.
Surely this cataclysm of cash, porn and war isn’t a manifestation of the human heart.
We are sleepwalking, yes? We haven't really become this?
Like so much of our inheritance; healthy food, clean environment, the love of Art is being stolen right from under your soul.
Art has been indoctrinated. It is collected. It is stored, rotated, sold, as gold or diamonds or jewels.
Art became a THING.
Another thing that represents money.
When is was meant to be nourishment.
When it was meant to be magic.

I look around and weep for the massive losses no one seems to notice.
The absolute need for every single person to be able to create is completely sublimated in our global culture.
For most of us, there have been a few times when we had to say goodbye to a creative part of ourselves.
Sometimes the justification for that never materializes.

Art became a THING.
Another thing that represents money.
When is was meant to be nourishment.
When it was meant to be magic.


You know, the old, I’m glad that ripped my heart to shreds because now my life is better!
Because of that one special something
It was a mistake to let it go.
I know that’s not zen to say.
But here’s the deal.
 
I don’t love the comfort that much. In fact, I prefer the barn, thanks, if I never have to think about branding again or re-paint a canvas because it clashes with a new couch. I love working hard. But it has to be something that is of meaning. It must resonate now. I accept barter. If you can afford to pay me, you can buy me something I need.
Art is sacred to me, a commodity to be equated with love, not dosh.
As a gallery artist, I was reprimanded for giving my work away to people on the street:
“That’s money you’re taking out of my pocket and your pocket!”
My calling is to get as much art into the world as possible.
I don’t have time for the bottlenecks of greed, bureaucracy, status, and power.
To chase after status, awards, exhibitions and the approval of others.
Sure, sounds co-dependent, ditzy, crazy & blah blah blah.
Heard all the critics.
But they're outweighed by the positive responses.
The delight in suddenly owning something unique, precious, valuable.
Can’t hear the haters anymore, yo.
Too many people have remarked almost every one of them sadly
I wish I could paint/draw/sing/dance/play guitar like you.
Not all those things at once because that would be really amazing.
But each separate thing I was doing would often get this comment.
And I am a really shitty guitar player, all these people were convinced to let go of what pulled them. 'Shamed away from it, I tell ya.'
Because that’s where our power lies. If you could spend your time any way you wanted.

If you were allowed to be truly free in your heart, soul and mind –
What world would you be creating?
 

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