Tag Archives: money

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I've always known that I'm not in it for the money.

Don't get me wrong - earning money is great and if you buy some art, a consulting session or an Artist's Eyeball, rest assured that I will do The Happy Money Dance.

Malta - Euros (Coins)
Creative Commons License photo credit: marfis75

I'm not averse to earning money; I'm just not motivated by it.

I am motivated primarily by interest and enthusiasm.

If I'm bored by something, well, hey, good luck getting me to do it!

I've always been spectacularly bad at jumping through other people's hoops, which is why I've deliberately arranged my life so I do as little of it as possible. Oh sure, there's always some hoop-jumping but take it from me, a great deal of other people's stupid shit can be avoided if you're bloody-minded enough. And as my parents and a generation of teachers discovered, I'm capable of taking passive resistance to whole new levels of creativity when I don't want to do something.

Far better for everyone involved if I'm doing something that excites me.

Of course, I am not immune to Maslow's hierarchy of needs: you can motivate me with food and safety but after a certain basic level, I need that addictive buzz of excitement. I can and will do things that I find boring but it eats my brain alive. If you gave me the choice between an interesting low-paid job and a highly-paid dull job, as long as I wasn't going to starve then I'd take the interesting job every single time. Even if I tried to be 'sensible' and take the highly-paid boring job, I know from past experience that I wouldn't be able to stick it out. Sooner or later, I'd crack. I used to be able to manage a couple of years of mind-numbing boredom in paid employment: now I probably wouldn't even get that far.

I've always felt slightly envious of people who are motivated by their pay cheques or who don't mind a bit of boredom as long as they get to do what they want at the weekend. Goodness knows, I'd have a lot more money and outward trappings of success if I was wired that way. I've tried changing this aspect of myself. I've tried just sucking it up and working in paid employment. I've tried rewriting my brain so that I'm more motivated by money and the things it brings. But the best I've been able to manage is making some of the boring stuff more interesting using techniques like Havi's Metaphor Mouse.

Now I am well aware that this makes me sound like a bit of a spoilt brat. This is not the intention: I'm just dealing with my reality here. And my reality is that 'not being bored' is my primary motivator: not safety, independence, impressing other people, having nice things or any of the other reasons that people like to earn big pay cheques.

My secondary motivation is helping people.

This is not the 'ooh I'm such a nice person, look how selfless and generous I' reason that it might appear to be. Sadly, it's more selfish than that. Although I do genuinely want others to do well, the truth is that I need to teach.

 

yellow calcite
Creative Commons License photo credit: House Of Sims

This is unsurprising, since teaching is in both my blood and my family culture. My Mum & Granny were teachers, as were several aunts & uncles and now at least three of my cousins. It was bound to get me eventually.

[Yes Mum, you can feel vindicated: I don't teach in a school like you always expected but I've wound up with a business that involves regular teaching. Feel free to commence gloating.]

Eventually I worked out that it was probably a smart idea to find people willing to pay me to teach them because otherwise I start randomly giving people at parties impromptu lectures on why they need an internet presence.

And then people stop inviting me to parties.

Which is one reason why I think it's important to know what motivates you. The other reason is that if you're travelling down a road that requires one kind of motivation when you've got a different kind, then you're always going to struggle.

What about you?

Do you know what motivates you? If so, does knowing help?

Leave a comment. Or write your own blog post about the subject - if you do, please let me know and I’ll link to it

 

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In the previous post, I talked about the reasons why you should collect original fine art. If you're new to collecting original work, this guide will help you to begin to feel confident in your own tastes.

The wall was framed
Creative Commons License photo credit: Leonski

It all starts with looking...

Educate your eye

The best way to start trusting your own tastes is to look at plenty of art.

So go to a bunch of different galleries and just look around. You can start with public galleries or commercial galleries where the work is for sale. I used to find commercial galleries intimidating because I knew I didn't have the money to buy anything. Now I treat them like any other shop (although I do still get horribly embarrassed if you have to ring a bell to get in). Affordable art fairs can be a fun way to see a lot of art at once.

Just remember, you're under no obligation to buy anything and the more galleries you visit, the less scared you'll become of them. Get a feel for prices but mostly get a feel for what you like.

If galleries feel super-scary, you can start by looking at art online. Many artists now have websites (although not as many as I’d like!) and there are plenty of online galleries where you can see a wide variety of art.

Make a list

Start keeping notes on artists whose work you’re drawn to. I have a mental list of artists who’s work I want to own (oh Rachael Nee, one day you will be mine!). Even if you can’t afford their work right now, it’ll help you get a sense of the sort of thing you like. If you want to be geeky, collect images of the art you like in a programme like Evernote.

Analyse your own tastes

When you see a piece of art you love, try to work out what qualities drew you to it.

Does it remind you of a particular time in your life or a special place? Do certain subjects or colours appeal more than others? Are you attracted to a particular type of media? Does it give you a certain feeling? For example, I’ve noticed that I often buy works that have a melancholic quality to them.

Sometimes there’s no pattern and you can’t gauge why you love one piece of art and feel ‘meh’ about another but often you’ll see a pattern emerging. Maybe you'll discover that you like traditional watercolour landscapes. Or perhaps contemporary, slightly abstract portraits do it for you. You may love strongly graphic works in stark black ink or perhaps brightly coloured art influenced by comics is more your thing.

When I considered my own collection I was surprised how often human figures appeared because my own work is not at all figurative. Apparently what I like to make and what I like to buy are not the same.

Read about art

You don’t need to be an expert to start collecting art; all you need is a bit of spare money! But a bit of art history knowledge can help you feel more confident in your choices. You don't need to spend a fortune, your local library should have a selection of art books and there are plenty of places online where you can read about the art that's being made right now.

Get to know some artists

Follow art blogs, read art websites, go to local art trails and chat to the artists. Familiarity with artists and what they do makes buying art easier.

Hopefully you'll soon realise that most of us aren't scary, inaccessible and weird. Many collectors get a thrill from having a relationship with 'their' artists and it can be part of the reason that people buy art.

Join mailing lists

If you find an artist whose work you love, join their mailing list even if you’re not in a position to buy from them yet. It stops you forgetting about them and you’ll get invites to their exhibitions and news of upcoming events.

Signing up for mailing lists for local galleries ensures that you get invites to their private views. These can be intimidating. However, private views can also be bizarrely reassuring because there are lots of other people there, so the focus is not on you and you can look at the art without feeling pressured to buy.

Take a friend, it's less scary and you can run away to the nearest pub if it all gets a bit much. If you're in a city, the smaller artist-run galleries almost always attract a funkier crowd than 'blue-chip', more traditional commercial galleries in the posh parts of town. Beware of the wine, it's often cheap plonk.

 

OK, you're ready to buy...

Start Small

Small works will usually be cheaper than larger works, although it does depend on how well known an artist is – a small piece by an established artist can be more expensive than a large piece by a relative unknown. Small works are generally easier to install than large works, less expensive to frame and they can be easier to live with.

Set a budget

People often think that original art is beyond their means but the price range is huge. Drawings and prints are usually cheaper than paintings. Watercolours are usually cheaper than oils. If you buy smaller works by less well known artists, you won’t need to spend a fortune.

The most expensive piece in my collection cost about £240 and most of what I own was under £70. My own work starts at £15 and currently everything in my shop is under £100, which is just stupidly low for original artwork. It won't be that price for ever but right now, I'm still building a collector base, so I'm cheap as chips!

If you feel scared about making a big mistake, setting a budget can take a lot of the fear out of art collecting. Some collectors have a specific savings account that they use for their art purchases. Although if you see something that you simply must own, many galleries have payment schemes to let you spread the cost.

Buy direct from the artist

I think one of the reasons that people are scared of buying fine art is that commercial galleries often have a bit of an 'attitude'. A lot of galleries are friendly but it can be like walking into a very expensive boutique - you instantly get that 'I'm too scruffy' feeling!

If this is the case for you, find artists online and buy direct from them. It feels a lot less 'grown-up' and scary, plus the majority of the money goes directly to the artist, so prices can sometimes be lower. This does depends on whether the artist has a gallery or not - reputable artists won't undercut their galleries but a self-representing artist like me can charge lower prices because I'm not shelling out half of the purchase price to a gallery. When you buy from a gallery the split is usually 50/50 or sometimes 40/60% with the artist getting the lower amount. Bear that in mind next time you think that art is too expensive for what it is!

Don’t worry about investment

Buying art for investment purposes is a mugs game. Certainly individual artist’s prices can skyrocket but it's a total gamble. Buy what you love and don’t worry about long-term value: the worth is in the joy you get from it now.

Although it's worth considering the appreciation and depreciation potential of a piece of art, your core criteria should always be how you feel about the work. Do you want to live with it? Can you imagine looking at it every day? Does it intrigue you? Do you think you might get bored with it? Do you want to know it better? Does it move you?

Trust your instincts

At the end of the day, I find the best way to buy art is to wait until you fall head over heels in love with something. I won't buy unless I have that 'oh, oh, I NEED it' feeling.

Make the leap

If you’ve not bought original art before, find something you love that’s in your budget range and just buy it. Congratulations, you're now an art collector!

Coming soon: Where to buy art

 

Comment

Do you buy original art? How did you start? If you haven’t bought art before, do you think you will in the future? Do commercial galleries scare the pants off you? Share your art buying thoughts and experiences in the comments.

 

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Obviously as a working artist, I'm biased: I think everyone should have original art on their walls.

Now, there's nothing wrong with owning art reproductions. If you want to look at a Van Gogh or Cezanne on a daily basis, commercial reproductions are probably your only choice unless you work in a major art gallery or you're an international art thief.

Personally I long for a reproduction of this Ian Hamilton Finlay work.

 

Ian Hamilton Finlay print
Ian Hamilton Finlay: Evening will come

This print has haunted me for years. I'll probably never be able to afford an original, limited edition, signed print but if I can find a reproduction, I'd be quite happy. I just want it on my wall because it inspires me.

However, as a general rule, I prefer to buy original art and here's why...

 

You get to feel smug

When you buy original art, you own something unique or in the case of a limited edition print, rare.

Not for you that instantly recognisable Ikea print; your walls and shelves contain art that your friends and neighbours don’t have. Let’s face it, we humans are a competitive bunch and there’s a certain kudos to owning something less run of the mill. It may be shallow but it's a major reason why people buy art.

Pleasure

Owning art brings joy into your life. I don’t pay attention to my small art collection every single day but there’s not a week goes by that I don’t suddenly notice one of the pieces I own and get a sudden surge of visual pleasure.

Connection

Although I obviously love the works themselves, I also take pleasure in the sense of connection that it gives me with the artist, especially if I've met them. There's something very special about having a tiny slice of someone else's creative life in your home: it's inspiring.

You're supporting artists

Buying contemporary art directly supports artists. When you buy someone's work, you’ve made a very positive difference to that artist’s life. You’ve put food on their table, shoes on their kid’s feet or paid their gas bill. In short, you’ve allowed them to carry on creating – way to go, you Patron of The Arts, you!

Even if you buy the work of dead artists, you're usually supporting a small businesses - with a few larger exceptions, most commercial galleries and auction houses are fairly small, locally owned businesses.

The passion of collecting

Collecting art can be a huge buzz – many collectors love the seductive aspect of falling in love with a new piece or the thrill of buying at auction. Like any other kind of collector, art collectors can get very passionate about their pursuit of art.

There are people out there for whom buying art is a major lifestyle choice - they visit art fairs, go to galleries when they're on holiday and obsessively plan what they're going to buy. It's their hobby. But I'm not like that and you don't have to be either - most art collections start very simply with a single piece of art bought on impulse.

Original art is worth more

There are some caveats to this. I don't recommend buying art for investment purposes - it's just too chancy. The art market is erratic and even if you've got a good 'eye', there's no way of telling who's going to make it. Even if you do buy a piece of art that's going to rise in value, it may not happen in your lifetime. Still, there's always the chance that you'll get lucky and the artist's prices will rise dramatically: that's not going to happen with your Ikea poster.

There are a few exceptions: things like original film posters or old socialist posters can be a good investment. Old posters are very collectable at the moment and they can be lovely to have on your walls as classic examples of graphic art or Hollywood kitsch. Of course the key words here are 'original' and 'old' - it's the increasing scarcity of the original posters that's pushing up the price. Newer reproductions of these posters aren't going to appreciate in value any time soon. However, they are a good example of something that was originally mass produced which now has a value greater than some of the one-off pieces of art from the same period. It's possible that your Ikea poster may be worth something eventually but rest assured that it's not going to happen in your lifetime because there are just too many of them out there.

 

Don't be scared!

Unfortunately a lot of people are scared of buying original art. They worry that they don't have the experience to choose art. They're scared that they'll be judged by others for what hangs on their walls and they'll have to justify their tastes. They think it will be too expensive or that it’s something that only posh middle-class people do.

The reality is that starting an art collection is not as difficult and expensive as many people think. Even with a very limited budget, you can have an original art collection. Obviously if it’s a choice between food and art, you should buy the food but if you’ve got a small discretionary budget, you can afford something more unique than that Ikea print.

In the next post I'll show you how to get comfortable with buying original art.

Leave a comment

Why do you buy art? Does it matter to you if it's an original or not? Let's hear your thoughts...

 

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Creative Commons License photo credit: me and the sysop

Oftentimes we get hung up on a perceived need for fancy tools when simpler solutions would work just fine.

Consider the nappy disposal unit I bought before my son was born.

Was it a complete waste of money? Why yes, yes it was.

Turns out that storing loads of used nappies together smells far worse than you just throwing them straight in the bin and no amount of expensive, deodorising bags will help. At the end of the day, all I had was a larger bag of smelly nappies to get rid of. That I'd paid extra to acquire (those deodorising nappy bags aren't cheap, you know!)

So why did I buy such a ridiculous thing?

Simple. I was 24, living in a shelter for homeless pregnant women and desperately trying to prove to myself that I knew what I was doing.

For some strange reason, a nappy disposal unit seemed like the perfect answer to all my problems.

It wasn't.

Here I am, pregnant and terrified.


Kirsty Hall: Pregnant, 1992

Several months later: note the 'holy shit, what just happened?' look.


Me with a very fresh Kidlet, 1992

Yeah, I don't think a nappy disposal unit is going to cut it, babe!

.............................................

Fast forward 18 years. Nappies are no longer an issue; instead I have a teeny tiny business to tend.

I find being in business a challenging proposition. Definitely not as tough as being alone, pregnant, on benefits and homeless but still pretty tough.

I'm chronically ill, which makes it hard for me to sustain the energy and momentum needed to run a business. But more importantly, the language of business either bores me rigid or terrifies me. If you start talking about 'target markets' and ROI, I go into 'hiding under the desk' mode. Plus my Starving Artist Self comes out to play and it's not long before I'm hissing things like ‘shun the unbeliever’ and looking around for some garlic and a stake.

And then bad things happen. Mostly involving tears and chocolate.

Because businessy stuff scares the bejeezus out of me, I often find myself fixating on unimportant details or falling into the trap of thinking that I can spend myself out of stress.

So I’ll start believing that if I can just find the ‘perfect’ software system, then my disorganisation will miraculously be fixed. Or I’ll convince myself that I've bought the ‘wrong’ accounts book with the incorrect number of columns, so I should waste £17 on the 'right' one or the Inland Revenue will descend upon me and beat me with sticks.

In both these cases, I’m looking for fixes for the wrong problem.

The problem is not the accounts book: the problem is that I have a lot of anxiety around numbers, filling in forms and money. And no amount of software is going to magically fix my ADD tendencies.

It’s magic pill thinking.

What do you need to have a business?

Something to sell, somewhere to sell it and people to sell it to.

Er, that's it.

Sure, there are plenty of twiddles you can add - you can systematise and optimize out the wazoo - but those are the three basics.

It's true that some systems and tools are smart investments that will make things easier, cheaper or more efficient. Unfortunately when you’re a beginner, you don’t know what those things are. A lot of solutions are going to be over-engineered for where you are right now. And a lot of the things you think are solutions are actually your anxieties playing silly buggers with you.

Ignorance, anxiety or excuse?

We all find ourselves suckered into purchases that we end up not using. Sometimes it’s ignorance. Sometimes it’s a response to anxiety. Sometimes it's an excuse.

We all know the person who has all the latest, greatest equipment for a hobby but doesn't seem to spend much time doing it. Perhaps they have a mental image of themselves as someone who plays a musical instrument but they’re not committed enough to put in the hours of practice needed. So they buy yet another tuning device or the latest how-to book. And then never use it. They’ve confused buying with doing.

If you find yourself saying "I can't make art until…” then stop & ask yourself if that's really true? Maybe you do need a certain amount of funding or a studio space or a particular piece of equipment. Or maybe it's resistance or fear talking.

If you find yourself stalling on starting your business because you're writing a 40 page business plan or because you think you need new office furniture, you're getting overly hung up on the details. You don't need to wait for small lemon-soaked paper napkins before taking off.

Do you need a studio in order to paint? No, unless you're working on a large scale, you do not. You might work better in a dedicated studio. However, if a studio is impossible right now, work out some other solution. But don't use lack of a studio as an excuse not to paint.

What do you need to paint? Paint, brushes, something to paint on and the time and energy with which to paint. Does space help? Yes, it does. But not having space doesn't completely rule out painting. Work smaller. Work in quick drying paint. Is it ideal? Obviously not and I sympathise if you're stuck in a difficult situation where you can't make the work you long to make. However, finding a compromise is better than not making art.

Do you need a ton of expensive equipment? Depends on what you're making but often the answer is no. If you do, then owning it is not the only solution. Perhaps you can hire that specialist equipment, especially if you don't need it every day.

If I wanted to make prints, I wouldn't go & buy a printing press, I'd join the local print co-operative and use theirs. Or I'd use hand-printing techniques. But if I knew I wanted to make prints every day and I had the technical knowledge to properly maintain it, then I might consider buying and setting up my own printing press.

Do you need a £2,000 website? Almost certainly not.

Do you need expensive software? Maybe. But maybe you’re just looking for that magic pill. I recently tested out specialist content management software but decided that my existing spreadsheet programme would work just fine.

Stop. Rethink. Do you really need that thing or are your naughty ducks giving you grief again?

Spend smarter: 5 questions to ask yourself when you’re considering a new purchase

1) Why do I think I need this?

2) What tools do others in my field recommend?

3) What will this cost me in time, energy & money?

4) Is this an investment or a liability?

5) How could I achieve my aims without this thing?

Conclusion

Start small and work up. Don't burden yourself with debts you don't need. Don't put artificial barriers in your way. Quit sabotaging yourself.

In short, watch out for nappy disposal units.

Resources
This post was inspired by Adam King's post about why he became a minimalist woodworker piece. You should read it, it's good.

Please leave a comment
Have you ever bought something through ignorance, fear or anxiety? Conversely, which tools have been great investments for your business? Got any other tips for avoiding magic pill thinking? Let me know below...

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You know that internet joke that goes:
1. Set up online business
2. ???
3. Profit!

Um yeah, that kind of IS my business plan!

I mean, it's slightly more sophisticated than that. It actually goes:
1. Make lots of work
2. Show work online and in exhibitions
3. Build up reputation
4. ???
5. Make lots of money, er well, some money anyway

Seven years after graduating, I have come to the conclusion that it's not the world's most efficient business plan. Steps 1 to 3 are coming along nicely but unsurprisingly, steps 4 and 5 continue to elude me.

I have been struggling a lot with the money thing lately, most particularly with how it relates to my art. Recently I came to the conclusion that I'm just not comfortable with money.

Don't get me wrong, I have no problem spending it - although actually I'm usually pretty sensible with that side of things. My problem is more with the concept of getting paid for what I do.

I think on some level my image of myself just doesn't include the idea, 'earns lots of money'. Certainly I'm much more mentally comfortable in the voluntary/low income sector. I have no idea why this is. Some misplaced notion of bohemianism, perhaps? Some basic insecurity or lack of self belief? I suspect both these things come into play but looking back, I can see that I've never been motivated by money. I don't care about status symbols like fancy cars and designer clothes and as long as I have enough money to get by, I'm perfectly content.

My motivation has always been internal rather than external. I had a hard time when I was at school because I hated what I saw as all the 'jumping through hoops'. I've become somewhat better at that over the years but I'm still the sort of person who will work my fingers to the bone if I'm interested in something but if I'm not interested then it's like pulling teeth, no matter how much money you offer me.

Naturally I understand that everyone has to do things that they dislike and I'm not so spoilt that I'll refuse to do boring things. I've done my share of mind-numbing paid jobs in the past and if my health was better, I probably still would be. There are also plenty of art tasks that don't fill me with joy: I dislike documenting my work, writing exhibition proposals and doing graphics for posters but I crack on and do them because they are part of being an artist. However, I'm doing these things because getting my work out there matters to me; again it's self motivation rather than the external motivation of money. I don't want to get the work out there to make money, I want to get the work out there so that the work is out there. I find this makes quite a fundamental difference when it comes to the 'getting paid' part of the equation.

One of the most obvious ways that my conflicted relationship with money manifests is the difficulty I have with the idea of selling my art. I have wavered back and forth on this for years. There are some real practical issues - most of what I make doesn't lend itself easily to selling. For example, because of the length of time my work takes, most of it would not be economically viable unless I charged astronomical prices.

However, I've noticed that I'm also extraordinarily resistant to the thought of selling my drawings, even though they're a much easier and more realistic prospect. Oh sure, I have a ton of excuses for that one - "they're not good enough", "I don't know how to sell", "I just don't feel ready" and "I don't like putting a value on things that I make" - but I can see that it all comes down to my fundamental unease with money.

Another example: before today, it had never once occurred to me that my photographs might have a market. Because I don't think of them as 'art', attempting to sell them had never even crossed my mind. And now that I have thought about it, I want to run away really fast! I am formulating new excuses in my head already. It's abundantly clear that the true problem is not with the kind of work I make; it's with the very idea of selling.

It often feels as though money is a strange language that I don't speak. In fact, it's as though my brain is wired in such a way that it doesn't even recognise that it IS a language. I think I have 'earning money blindness', in the same way as I have 'pass blindness' - you could be showing very obvious interest in buying my work and I simply wouldn't notice. Yes, this has actually happened to me - the person in question had to spell it out to me and when she did, I was completely floored and didn't know what to do.

You see the problem - I truly suck at this stuff. Plus I clearly have ISSUES.

Expect more posts on this subject, as I work my way through this money thing. Yes, internet, you are my therapy. Aren't you lucky!

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Ah, the dreaded tax return... thankfully, the problem I mentioned with my password was not a permanent one and I got my taxes in on time. I managed to do it in the early hours of last Friday morning; it turns out that if you wait until after midnight then the Inland Revenue website works just fine. Apparently my password wasn't a problem at all, the website had simply fallen down from exhaustion earlier that day. And really, who can blame it? I know from past experience that I am certainly not the only person who does my taxes right at the last minute.

According to the Inland Revenue's own figures, they hit peak numbers on Friday 30th January with 390,000 of us filing our taxes only a day before the deadline. It's a bad habit and I plan to be more organised about it next time around... but then I always say that and I bet those other 389,999 people do as well!

Seriously though, my current accounts are a bit of a shambles and I need to get my art assistant, The Wonderful Zoë, to sort me out. She's been self-employed for years and rolls her eyes at the organised chaos of my accounting 'system'.

I do keep all my receipts (ordered by month in small plastic folders) and all my bank statements (ordered by tax year) but I don't do two things that I should - I don't have a separate bank account for my art business (which makes doing my incomings an absolute nightmare) and I don't keep an accounts book. Both those things have always seemed like just too much of a bother when I rarely make any money at my art but I have decided that this year, it's time to tackle them for three reasons. Firstly, if I start making money in the future then it will be vital to have solid accounting practices already in place. Secondly, if I'm ever investigated by the Inland Revenue, my current practices might look suspicious when really it's just incompetence! And thirdly, it will make doing my taxes a whole lot easier and anything that stops me having a nervous breakdown at tax time is obviously A Very Good Thing: I know that my long-suffering family would certainly be grateful!

The current plan is that Zoë is going to bring one of her account books over for me to have a look at and then talk me through it and then I'm going to open a new bank account, move everything to where it should be and buy and start using an accounts book. Simple, no? My deadline for this is April, so that I can start the next tax year properly with all my new systems in place.

What sort of state are your accounts in? Do you do everything you 'should'? Finances can be a difficult and emotionally tense area for a lot of people and although I believe that artists are generally far more practical and grounded than most people give us credit for, we're certainly not immune to Head-In-The-Sand Syndrome when it comes to our accounts.

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I'm a little disturbed that I haven't posted here since last Tuesday because I could have sworn that I had. I hate it when I start losing time, it usually means that I'm overdoing things a little and falling prey to the brain fog that's common in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

...........

So, another Tuesday, another look at the concept of mess. I'm considering it from a slightly different angle this week.

DRAWING A LINE IN THE SAND

I had an interesting experience last week: someone contacted me offering to 'moneterize'* my blog with an advertising link. I politely declined and then got a slightly cheeky email back saying, amongst other things, that 'it's just a link'.

But it isn't just a link.

While I'm flattered to be asked, adding advertising to my site is not something I want to do. One of the reasons my site looks good is because it isn't covered with too much visual information. This is deliberate choice on my part. I loathe the way places like MySpace look, I find them almost nauseating in their visual clutter and one of the first things I said to my web designer was, "I want my site to be clean." My designer did a fantastic job making a sleek, beautiful and functional space for me and I do my part by not messing it up!

My site is an area in my life - one of the few - where mess doesn't randomly proliferate because I have to make a conscious decision to make a mess here; I can't just randomly wander through, put something down and wander off again. Instead, I resist the temptation to put lots of stuff up on my sidebars. I think long and hard about every single item that goes up there and on occasion I've decided not to put up things that might benefit me because I feel that the resulting visual clutter would outweigh the benefits.

Why would I compromise that purity by putting someone else's advertising on here?

I don't need advertising on this site, it's not expensive to run and I consider it part and parcel of the ongoing costs of being an artist. Paying for my hosting once a year is no less important to my art than buying art materials, getting business cards printed or buying art books and magazines for research.

I make no money. In the 5 years since I graduated, I haven't had to pay taxes once because even when I had a part time job, I've never made enough to exceed the personal tax allowance. I survive through the good will of my partner who financially supports me. So you'd think that I'd jump at the chance to get a bit of extra cash.

But there's no such thing as a free lunch. Having advertising on this site would be messy and I feel that it would compromise my art. I'm not saying that it's evil to advertise. Every artist must make the decision about whether to accept advertising for themselves. For some artists it might be the right choice. For me, it's not.

I was trying to pin down exactly why it isn't right for me when I read this spot-on blog post by Seth Godin last night and had an lightbulb moment. He writes:

Here's the essential truth:

This is the first mass marketing medium ever that isn't supported by ads.

If a newspaper, a radio station or a TV station doesn't please advertisers, it disappears. It exists to make you (the marketer) happy.

That's the reason the medium (and its rules) exist. To please the advertisers.

But the Net is different.

It wasn't invented by business people, and it doesn't exist to help your company make money.

That's it exactly! My blog does not exist to make YOU money. Heck, it doesn't even exist to make ME money, although it may well have that effect in the long run. Certainly part of the reason it exists is to increase my profile in the art world and hopefully to garner me real world art opportunities but mostly it exists simply because I like to write, share photos and talk to other interesting artists.

Not everything in the world is for sale and I value having this one clean, controlled space in a mostly messy life far, far more than I'd value a few extra quid in my bank account.

* Incidentally, can we please take the word 'moneterize' out back and have it shot!