The Cost of Creativity

The wedding cake that Teresa made for Brad and I. 

It seems like such an oxymoron to be raised as a “banker’s daughter” and grow up to become an artist. Art and money are as separated as they can get, right? Artists make art “because we just feeeeeel it, maaaan!” While that may be true to a degree (perhaps for some more than others….after all, I don’t want to stereotype and generalize that all artists are the same breed) there is actually a lot of important factors that are put into play when considering the cost of creativity, and believe it or not, most artists and creators consider these factors when putting a price tag onto that art piece.

I can’t help but think of my sister, The Midnight Baker, who is constantly appraised for her work. After all, people are using the most important of the five senses when appreciating her work; taste. (Well, I think it’s the most important of the senses, because I’m Ukrainian and I like to eat.) Not only does her work have to be delicious, it has to be customized to suit the buyer’s demands, and it has to be aesthetically pleasing. By the way, she surpasses all of those criteria and then some. Yum!

 But there is always somebody in the crowd that wants the triple layered wedding cake for the price of a Twinkie. As Teresa puts it, “This isn’t a hobby. This is my livelihood. I am a one-person business.” Do you know how many cakes and cookies and tarts she has to make to pay to keep her kitchen up to code, pay for commercial insurance (which has to cover things such as slippage/accidents, breakdown of equipment, her delivery vehicle), pay for packaging supplies, pay for ingredients, pay for a portion of the heat, and hydro (can you imagine what her hydro bills are with a double stove running 24/7?!!!), paying for fees for accounting, licensing, food handlers certification, paying for advertising, office supplies, and so forth? All of that cost is put in a deliciously chocolaty bite sized morsel with buttercream frosting at a reasonable price. She truly is a sculptor with flour, sugar, and eggs and deserves to be paid well for it.

And I can completely relate to my sister, (and not just genetically…har, har, har!) because I too am asked questions like, “When are you going to turn that original painting into prints?”  And “Are you planning on having a sale any time?” Could you imagine going to a doctor and asking for a discount on their service? When have you ever had a vehicle repaired and asked if the mechanic could get paid less per hour? So I am going to spell out how I price out my work, so that it is understood why my price for my art is my price for my art. Just like my sister’s cake is her cake.

I use a combination of the classic “square inch” method and an hourly rate, whichever seems fairer. The square inch method is simple: multiply the length of an art piece by the width, and then multiply that by a dollar price. A beginner artist would charge about $1 per square inch. A very established artist would charge $6 per square inch. So a starting artist would get $80 for an 8x10 painting and an established artist would get $480 for that same size of painting. That, my friends, is why artists are called “starving artists”!  I charge on the low to medium level of that scale because I want my work to actually sell while still considering the same factors that my sister does such as the cost of supplies, my use of hydro, et al. I want to be fair to you, and I want to be fair to me.

If I sell my work in another business or gallery, then I have to consider a commission fee. I can’t just hang that artwork up on the wall for nothing! Some galleries generously only ask 10% where larger established galleries ask for 50% of the sale. Again, how would you like to go to a restaurant and only get half a sandwich but pay full price? Some days I feel like I’m eating half a sandwich when I’m working in my studio.

But I love what I do and am proud of what I do and I won’t feel shamed into lowing my price or standards because we live in a Walmart society. My philosophy is that you get what you pay for; an original, one of a kind, funky piece of creativity that can’t be compared to anything else. You’re paying for that one of a kind experience. You’re paying for those wacky, interesting thoughts that get projected onto cookies or a canvas. You’re paying for that professional judgment that ensures that you’re getting exactly what you asked for, and then some. You’re paying for that exorbitant amount of time that the artist spends with passion and zest. Food for thought. 

All photos are from The Midnight Baker's Facebook page, and all of these cakes were created by Teresa Faulconer, my sister. :)

This article was originally written for and posted in The Northern Sun on June 1lth, 2014. 

Viva La Liberte!

My husband and I were just put up against the wall recently with a fully loaded rule book pointed straight at us, and told we needed to abide to said rules or suffer the consequences. Fortunately, Brad has just as much of a rebellious spirit as I do, and we both decided to graciously walk away from the confines that were being laid out before us. Viva la liberte! The situation made me think of so many artists that have been considered defiant because they didn’t “play along nicely”, or theydid play along nicely, just not the way others wanted them to play. Freaks, rebels, weirdoes, devils in disguise….call them what you will, they changed the course of history because of their willingness to go beyond the expectations and break the norms.

Portrait of Marcel Duchamp

Let me tell you a quick story about Marcel Duchamp. Duchamp was an artist that submitted an art piece to an exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists in 1917 in New York City. He was on the selection committee, therefore, the art piece that he submitted was signed using another name; R. Mutt. The deal was that anyone could submit art into this exhibition as long as they paid an entrance fee. There was much deliberation on the committee regarding this art piece, and they ultimately decided to hide the art piece from being displayed. Duchamp resigned from the committee. What on earth could the art piece possibly have been, you might ask, to cause such controversy?! It was a urinal. Duchamp went to the store, bought a urinal, changed its positioning, signed it R. Mutt, and submitted it in the show.

Some of you might be absolutely outraged to think that Duchamp would even consider that to be art. Some of you might think he was being facetious. Some of you may think he was brilliant. I am hoping you think the latter and this is why. The people on the committee had a confined (may I even be bold enough to use the phrase “close-minded”?) perspective of what art is, and were forced into a position of thinking and perhaps re-defining what should be considered when art becomes Art. Duchamp simply felt that the urinal had beauty in its form. When not placed in its typical setting, it purely became an object to be appreciated and stripped of its labels. He also argued that just because he didn’t actually make the urinal, does not mean that it’s not art. The placement of the object created new thought, and THAT is what makes it art.

Right now you might be thinking, WHO ON EARTH WOULD CONSIDER A URINAL TO BE BEAUTIFUL?! Who said art had to be beautiful? I have seen enough funny looking babies in my lifetime to know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Who said art has to hang up over your couch? Who said that art has to be “nice” and play by the rules? I always tell my students, you need to know the rules before you can break them. It’s my way of ensuring that they know the foundation of the Arts, and how there is structure and there is beauty in this fantastic world, but that if you just stick with those rules, then you might as well be doing colour by number paintings, because there is no thought going into your work. It is important to push those ideas, even when the status quo may think it’s being a bit too rebellious and shaking their pretty, happy norms.

Picasso hid “Les Mademoiselle D’Avignon” for decades because fellow artists felt he was making a mockery of Modern Art. Cubism became a household name once revealed.

 Monet’s first Impressionist painting, “Sunrise”,  was described as looking like it was scribbled with crayons by a child that was drawing on a moving train. 

Dali was considered to be crooked instead of brilliant when he signed blank pieces of paper before his art work was printed on them (I know I’d much rather have an original signature over a printed one, and they sell for so much more). Banksy is considered a vandal as he spray paints poignant statements on walls around the world.

 And what about Mr. R. Mutt aka Marcel Duchamp? He became the father of “ready-made” art, otherwise known as Found Object Art. He took found objects and transformed them into other things to be used and/or appreciated. Sound familiar? Ever hear of someone turning a pallet into a table, or jewellery being made out of old computer circuit boards? Google “found object art” and when you are looking at all of the beautiful things that are made out of reclaimed materials today, think of Duchamp and his willingness to rebel against the rules to bring concepts like this to you. This art piece is considered one of the most influential pieces of modern art in existence.

Marcel Duchamp

“Fountain”

Glazed ceramic

1917

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

This article was first published in the Northern Sun News, without the pictures because there's never enough room because I always go over my 500 word limit. I can't help it.

Insta-history

When I reflect on my history with photography, it takes me right back to my sister and I sneaking into the cupboard to steal my dad’s 110mm camera to take goofy snapshots of ourselves. Like he wasn’t going to find out that we were doing “selfies” in 1981! That was back in the day when film came in canisters or cartridges and you had to get them developed before you even knew what you took a picture of. There wasn’t a delete button. You got what you got and we usually got grounded. But with those photographs, you also got some interestingly artistic surprises, such as leaked light (sometimes the backdoor of the camera would accidentally open or you’d just have to check to see if there was actually film in the camera!) or sun glares from pointing your camera directly into the sun. Cool stuff!

My dad must have been tired of spending his money on all of those photos because I got a Kodak disc camera one year for Christmas which just so happened to promise “action shots”.  Mind.Blown. I had my best friend jumping all over the place like a lunatic trying to capture that quintessential frozen, leaping-in-the-air shot. Why that was important to keep, I’m not too sure but I still have a few as a reminder of my curiosity and discoveries.  

 I received my first single lens reflex 135mm camera when I was 14 and my world changed. Suddenly I needed to know what aperture was, why there were different types of films, shutter speeds, polarizers, bouncing light, f-stop. Who knew that such a small little light box could be so complex!? Fortunately I worked at Panis Production (who remembers Panis Productions?!) throughout high school and learned a lot about the subject from some of the best such as Don Nord and Jake Seigel. Conversations easily circled around either the technicalities of the camera, the aesthetic qualities of composition, the power of lighting and so on.

My high school art teacher taught me how to develop my own film in the dark room (we called it “The Dungeon”) and I ran off to university to earn a minor in photography. Little did I know that it would automatically seal the deal on becoming the unofficial leader of the high school yearbook when I became a teacher. Yes, I too used to drag kids into the dungeon to learn the ancient technique of black and white negative and photograph development. But that all changed when digital cameras came in. I remember being a bit of a “kicker and screamer” when discussion arose of removing the darkroom and replacing the cameras with digital ones. I guess I was a purist. How could a computer replace the beautiful quality of a finely printed photograph?! A part of me still believes that, but I’m cool with creative change, and can now say I have whole heartedly embraced the awe of digital photography. Basically, with all of the bells and whistles that allow you to manipulate photographs, it’s pretty close to impossible to take a crappy photo.

I missed the boat when it comes to Photoshop, though. I can putter my way around it and get what I want most of the time, but I’m not one of those people that can click a few buttons and presto, I have a manipulated photograph of my sister with a unicorn horn. *sigh* It could be so much fun. But for now, I have “apps”. I subscribe to a fantastic app on my iphone called “The App of the Day” which shares free iphone applications every day.

Basically every second day is some form of a photography manipulation application. If I want my photograph to look like an oil painting, or a Pop Art print, or look like the edges are torn, or a completely different colour, I just have to press a few buttons and I’ve completely altered my photograph. Who would have thought that possible when I was a fascinated 9 year old learning how to capture memories? Now not only can I capture memories, but make them look awesome in the process. I use Instagram almost daily to record the wonders of the world through my eyes, and I get to share them with people all over the world…literally! In a relatively short amount of time, we have gone from accidentally making leaked light photographs to intentionally pushing a filter button on our iphone to replicate that same effect. We are lucky to have these ingenious opportunities with relative ease! Give it a try, and if you’re interested, you can check out some of my digital photography on Instagram under the username Bobeckman.

Originally published in the Northern Sun on June 11th, 2014.