Artistic Equity
Earning and spending creative wealth
Crypto is reaching record highs, the S&P and NASDAQ cranking up. Along with the circus, Trump has already delivered plenty of bread, at least until his tariffs kick in. Perception is reality in economics, and money cures all ills, except, of course, not having enough money. Short of buying you love, money will get you everything else, according to everybody.
I hung out with Beck before he was a Loser, Baby, back when he told me I was the loser for believing in objective truth. “How good you are depends on how many records you sell,” he announced in a North Hollywood taco joint, as I boldly called bullshit on his rancid relativism, and crass commodification of art. Fast forward a few years, and he proved his point.
Getting high in high school, I often got an “aesthetic a priori” buzz kill — in other words, I had trouble enjoying a piece of music knowing that my opinion of that music could change at any time, thereby making my sensibility arbitrary. How could I like song X this month, say, and then, after being exposed to songs Y and Z, decide that X actually sucked?
Was all taste entirely subjective? If so, then how could I defend my favorites from the onslaught of soft rock and milquetoast muzak? All things being equal, did that make Mötley Crüe as good as Van Halen, Lynyrd Skynyrd on the same level as Led Zeppelin? And if an absolute standard exists, or at least a foundation from which to discern good from bad, WTF is it?
Beck didn’t give a shit, went on to sell millions of records and win Grammy’s. Must be nice when commerce and art rain down, the best of both worlds. But as Frank Zappa observed, an overnight sensation seldom if ever happens, my boy Beck no exception, either, as he was so poor when I knew him that I had to buy him those tacos. Ya gotta start somewhere.
Retrospectively, every celebrity’s rise to fame and forture makes perfect sense — of course Christopher Walken was a lion tamer at a circus, Sam Jackson did puppet theatre in Central Park, and Megan Fox was a gigantic banana in a smoothie shop… Yet the future is uncertain, predictions more wrong than right, and all of us are promised labor, but not the rewards.
Saving pennies and investing dollars is a road to riches, or at least financial security — while retaining a stake in a business you help birth or benefit from is the source of real money. Making big coins over time is the deal, but few talk about building equity in the arts, the currency instead thousands of hours writing, acting, singing, painting, and pouring it on.
Wherever that creativity leads, nothing is ever wasted. Unlike a bitcoin ledger, stock portfolio, or bank account, talent grows invisibly, leaving a breadcrumb trail of content and experiences, interest accruing. Whether or not commerce and art collide is irrelevant, the Muse beckoning to delight or destruction like a Satyr or a Siren, fickle and fantastic to the end.
