So much of today’s art is wrapped up in artists doing too many things other than their art that take away from their time to do their art. The Nelsonia Chamber of Commercialism recently released a how-to-help-an-artist document riddled with typos and wonky formatting, and it was dominated by “local veteran artists” telling you what to do to make money. In addition to obedient quotes about how honouring your aristocratic overlords is your best way to go, it’s primarily chock-full of supplicant advice on how to appease the paying client and jump through the necessary hoops to get any sort of industrial aid from the orgs and non-profits lined up to hand out charitable aid or funds for your business, as long as you play along and do not present any artistic truths that rebel against their empire of kowtowing that must be performed before you can even begin to do your art.

Taking advice from the region’s oligarchic Chambermaids of Commerce who are in cahoots with the Canamerican franchise most in league with big-business billionaires aimed at destroying small-town arts and culture is a fool’s game that leads to a conglomeration of art that serves the wishes and demands of a colonial stratosphere not meant to be inhaled by lower minions who do not bow down to lick their dictator boots. Whatever happened to the days when a subsection of independent artists were free to create their artistic products and output as they saw fit, without having to conform to what will sell on the socials ahead of the AI apocalypse? What constitutes an artist in 2023, when the bigwigs would rather not pay an artificial intelligence broker to create art for them and their imperial playground for the rich, while most of the remaining human artists would rather conform to commerce designed to entrap them than dare risk making art which defies the ongoing hostile takeover of nature and women by the misogynistic kingpins of the gilded age?

Art solely done for cash lacks a soul, and a society hellbent on profit-only artworks lacks heart. According to the propaganda guide published by the Nelsonia Arts Council’s Black Queen and Wormtongue of the Chamber of Commercials, you have to get an insurer, a bookkeeper, a grant guide, an industry guru, a brand, a logo, a service provider, strong media contacts, an email list, a succession plan, a social network & a suitably milquetoast political bent without a whiff of counterculture rage against the corporate scheme, etc., before you can even begin to think about bringing a dreamed vision to life via an artistic form in time and space. Financially vulnerable indie artists are encouraged by the cult of subservient personalities to hire pricey pros whenever possible, while seeking handouts from the white power friendly motherships, so that everyone and their blogger gets rewarded except the artists themselves who are wondering how to pay their housing costs instead of who they can hire and give their hard-earned money to.

A working artist should not have to judge their net-worth based on how many digital followers they have, or how many sycophantic grants they get, or how much support they receive from anti-Indigenous funders who profit from the destruction of this stolen land. Unless you say what the gatekeepers of the settlers’ throne want to hear, you won’t be invited to the gravy train by the power-mongers who decree whether you can stay or go based on your willingness to submit to the moneyman. Even the ancient art of theatre has been hijacked by Broadway-sucking musicals backed by big-brand conglomerates, as no-one puts on community theatre other than those who submit to the will of Manmoron to fit through the eye of the discriminatory needle based on the myth of merit multiplied by the murder of culture vultures gone mainstream. In other words, sellouts and ass-kissers hog the philanthropic trough, while resisters and truth-tellers have to look elsewhere for their creative blessings. Goddess bless those who fight the power!