Something related I've been wrestling with: What if the artist is merely "meh"? I notice we're talking about the author of PTBBOTC (that first letter is "perhaps," BTW!), but would we feel the same way about a middling journeyman? If so, why? Does the person who asks deserve? The truly talented? Everyone? No one?
Such an interesting question, June! I do think part of throwing one’s hat in the ring for patronage/funding is also claiming to be a member of the “truly talented,” as you put it. But it’s not like people with money are always good judges of talent… though award-giving organizations should be reasonably good at this?
I love this - & also admired DeWitt’s stance. I recently saw an instagram reel featuring one of the WC awardees & it was naff. bookish imagination as social media performance is out of control now. I am eager for the woods in all the ways.
Yes, I agree! I love a few of the other winning writers’ work, and I sort of cringed to see them having to publicly perform the role of grateful prize recipient. Why does a literary prize need so much “content” anyway? This particular prize is fully funded and doesn’t need to attract donors or supporters… I genuinely don’t get it.
Sadly I did not know until now that the film The Last Samurai was something completely different from the book. Now I know! Now I'll read the book! Thanks Mason.
I admire DeWitt's bold and utterly unapologetic approach. I believe it's incredibly difficult for most artists to straight-up ask for money. My husband is a visual artist who can't even price his own work well enough to cover his material costs, let alone his time, the creative investment required to imagine the work, and the the work's inherent artistic merit. I recently left a career in tech to focus exclusively on writing, and I'm facing the same emotional hurdles. Why do you think so many of us are wired like this? (Also, I purchased your book, Making Art and Making a Living, and looking forward to reading it!
I’ve thought about selling quilts I’ve created and pieced by hand, but the time and the expense of having someone else do the actual quilting (I have MS and can’t wrassle with a whole big quilt) means I could charge hundreds of dollars and still not be adequately compensated. So instead, I give them away, pretty much to anyone who asks for one.
Oh, Fran! This makes me so sad. This kind of careful artistry should command adequate compensation. Maybe you just haven't found your audience. I would expect to pay $$$ for this kind of work!
Truly, quilting has fallen behind as writing my Substack has taken over. I still make quilts, but slowly. Slowly. You could say that writing for peanut is sad, too, but I love it so much (and have adequate retirement income) that the compensation doesn’t matter. Ars gratia artis.
And that, my friend, is part of our perpetual dilemma. Most of us write because we are compelled to write and tell stories. When someone actually pays us, we think, “Whoa! Someone paid money for me to do something that I love!” But if we never, ever get paid, how do we sustain doing what we love? If you’re like me, you take a job on the hamster wheel. It takes stamina to make sure that the wheel doesn’t kill the art.
Something related I've been wrestling with: What if the artist is merely "meh"? I notice we're talking about the author of PTBBOTC (that first letter is "perhaps," BTW!), but would we feel the same way about a middling journeyman? If so, why? Does the person who asks deserve? The truly talented? Everyone? No one?
Such an interesting question, June! I do think part of throwing one’s hat in the ring for patronage/funding is also claiming to be a member of the “truly talented,” as you put it. But it’s not like people with money are always good judges of talent… though award-giving organizations should be reasonably good at this?
I love this - & also admired DeWitt’s stance. I recently saw an instagram reel featuring one of the WC awardees & it was naff. bookish imagination as social media performance is out of control now. I am eager for the woods in all the ways.
Yes, I agree! I love a few of the other winning writers’ work, and I sort of cringed to see them having to publicly perform the role of grateful prize recipient. Why does a literary prize need so much “content” anyway? This particular prize is fully funded and doesn’t need to attract donors or supporters… I genuinely don’t get it.
Sadly I did not know until now that the film The Last Samurai was something completely different from the book. Now I know! Now I'll read the book! Thanks Mason.
I'm reading your book Daily Rituals, and it's so fascinating and inspiring (and amusing)!
Thank you so much!
I admire DeWitt's bold and utterly unapologetic approach. I believe it's incredibly difficult for most artists to straight-up ask for money. My husband is a visual artist who can't even price his own work well enough to cover his material costs, let alone his time, the creative investment required to imagine the work, and the the work's inherent artistic merit. I recently left a career in tech to focus exclusively on writing, and I'm facing the same emotional hurdles. Why do you think so many of us are wired like this? (Also, I purchased your book, Making Art and Making a Living, and looking forward to reading it!
I’ve thought about selling quilts I’ve created and pieced by hand, but the time and the expense of having someone else do the actual quilting (I have MS and can’t wrassle with a whole big quilt) means I could charge hundreds of dollars and still not be adequately compensated. So instead, I give them away, pretty much to anyone who asks for one.
Oh, Fran! This makes me so sad. This kind of careful artistry should command adequate compensation. Maybe you just haven't found your audience. I would expect to pay $$$ for this kind of work!
Truly, quilting has fallen behind as writing my Substack has taken over. I still make quilts, but slowly. Slowly. You could say that writing for peanut is sad, too, but I love it so much (and have adequate retirement income) that the compensation doesn’t matter. Ars gratia artis.
And that, my friend, is part of our perpetual dilemma. Most of us write because we are compelled to write and tell stories. When someone actually pays us, we think, “Whoa! Someone paid money for me to do something that I love!” But if we never, ever get paid, how do we sustain doing what we love? If you’re like me, you take a job on the hamster wheel. It takes stamina to make sure that the wheel doesn’t kill the art.