Paint The Pigs Gold: Art Under Capitalism
I think it’s safe to say we’ve all heard the story of Rumpelstiltskin— you know, the tale of a poor miller’s daughter forced to spin straw into gold under the threat of death. With no other options, she makes a bargain with the imp, Rumpelstiltskin, who offers to spin the straw into gold for her— at a cost— her firstborn child.
The art industry has grown eerily reminiscent of this tale of horror and desperation. Artists take the fabric of their imagination, skill, and time, weaving them into something valuable— only to find that the price they must pay is their very livelihood. The hands that create are the same ones that struggle to afford rent, stability, or even recognition. Much like the miller’s daughter, artists are expected to conjure something out of nothing under impossible conditions. But this struggle isn’t new. I’m sure those of you pursuing an art degree are tired of hearing, “An art degree? You know that’s not going to make you any money, right?” But how true is that? Let’s have a little chat about what it feels like to be an artist in a commercial world.
As someone who has been taking art seriously for about 15 years, I’ve been asked countless times, “Nabeel, can you draw a character for me? Can you design a tattoo for me? Can you draw me?” My answer is always simple: NO! Free from the pressure of money, I allow my creativity to flow naturally, without the weight of fulfilling someone else’s vision. Art, creativity, and craft should have a natural flow— unbound by the restraints of capitalism and instead driven by genuine passion and desire.
Once you start creating for cash, it becomes work, and I’ve seen enough artists struggle— underpaid for the hours they pour into their craft, forced to shape their art into something profitable rather than meaningful. They get stuck in a vicious cycle of compromising their vision, pandering to audiences, and justifying their worth to clients, an industry that undervalues them at every step, and even themselves. It’s a cycle that leaves artists creatively drained, all while the world continues to demand more for less. It’s demoralizing— putting so much effort into your craft, only for people to discredit the dedication and intricacy of your art. And because of this exploitation, artists often feel pressured to mark down their prices, compromising their time, effort, and talents.
Mainstream art, and society in general, often frames art as something done purely out of passion and enjoyment, rather than it being a legitimate, valuable form of labor. People expect artists to create for the love of their craft, dismissing art as “just a hobby” or something that doesn’t deserve to be valued the same as other professional services. This undervaluing is sometimes a direct result of the general lack of understanding of the craft itself— the technicality and refinement that goes into creating a work of art. And in the age of A.I., the creative landscape feels even more disheartening. You spend years honing your skills— only to see programs use keywords to generate “art” based on what’s already been done. As if that wasn’t enough, these programs rely on art created by humans that they just reassemble and sell as something “new.” How easy is that? It’s a slap in the face to the time and energy we put into our craft.
In a capitalistic society, art is reduced to a commodity rather than being something that holds innate expression. Its value often depends on the demand, branding, and market trends instead of its intrinsic artistic qualities and the emotions it evokes. This commodification of artistry reduces art to a mere tool for financial gain, often stripping the creative expression from its value. Artists are pressured to create art purely made for consumer trends, sometimes stripping artists of their connection to their work. Time and time again, artists are sacrificing their authenticity and creative vision to meet commercial demand.
Now, I’m not going to pretend that hard work doesn’t pay off— because it does. You might get featured in a local arts magazine, have the chance to showcase your work in an art show, or even create a short film that gains some traction. Maybe you'll get the opportunity to write a script for an entire video game. But wait! Don’t get too excited! Because after all, you might not even get paid. Artists love being told the same thing “we’ll be paying you in exposure, and trust me, that’s all you need.” Let’s be real; unless you catch the eye of someone well-connected in the industry, your chances of making it as a successful artist are slim. You’re left feeling empty, and that emptiness might just eat you up. I mean, a close friend of mine worked tirelessly to pay for art school to hone her craft, only to get the chance to write a script for a video game that was never even released. Job security, right?
The reality is, you need to network. Network, network, network. Because if you don’t manage to insert yourself into these highly exclusive artistic spaces— nestled between expensive bookshelves and tables displaying sculptures that were ‘donated’ (and definitely not stolen from marginalized communities), then you’re not doing it right. But here's the thing: How easy is it to break into these spaces? It’s not. Money speaks its own language, and unless you’re fluent, you don’t belong. It’s easy to see the reality for indie artists— they barely profit from their work, all while their artistic endeavors leave them without the basic necessity of healthcare. Artists operate in a harsh, unforgiving industry. And to those who live in underfunded communities, good luck— you’ll need it. If you don’t have the “right look,” chances are you won’t be meeting any big film producers, art moguls, or casting directors. And if you’re one of the few who make it, how long will it be before you sell out, becoming just another cog in a machine built to wear you down? So much for the “melting pot of culture.”
Being an artist in a capitalist world isn’t easy. The pressure to conform, and sacrifice creativity for financial gain, or simply to survive, is overwhelming. While the system might be flawed, it’s up to us artists to build a community, rooted in integrity and support, for one another. For centuries, art has been used as a tool for change, expression, and connection. Let us remember that the value of art isn’t determined by the money it brings, or the eyes it attracts, but by the sole expression of your individuality.
Strike Out,
Orlando
Written By: Nabeel Ahsan
Edited By: Olivia Wagner & Krizia J. Figueroa
