Make Artists Good Again
On the ethical dilemmas artists face.
Recently, I partook in an art business webinar in which the topic of tariffs was alluded to several times. Artists who want to expand beyond selling original works and prints are facing higher manufacturing costs. While the host was attempting to keep the webinar from getting lost in the weeds of politics, the implication was, of course, that Trump’s tariffs are a bad thing for small art businesses. There seemed to be zero recognition that the manufacturing of the cheap goods on which artists print their work is being done predominantly in countries with inhumane working conditions and that often utilize slave labor.
In my decade and a half of being in the art world, I have noticed that artists can have inconsistent ethics while believing themselves to be highly ethical people.
Many artists want people to value their art and pay for the worth of that art, so much so that they get bent out of shape if someone calls their products "too expensive.” But at the same time, they want the products they print their art on to be dirt cheap or they want the art materials they use to be inexpensive. There is a disconnect to the fact that they treat the art materials they buy and the manufacturing they use (and the workers behind those things) the same way the people who complain about how expensive their art treat them.
Then there is the environmental aspect. Many artists buy into environmental alarmism and constantly virtue signal about sustainability. You can see that art supply companies have keyed into this value; go to many an art supply company’s website and you will find a page dedicated to how environmentally sustainable their products are. Yet, for all they tout sustainability as a value, many artists buy materials made in countries like China without any hesitation. Countries like China are the biggest contributors to pollution and environmental harm; if artists were serious about their environmentalism, they would hesitate to buy from such countries.
There is also the popularity of unsustainable art supplies to consider. Acrylic paint is an extremely popular medium, due to its versatile nature. Yet it is essentially plastic. While perhaps that plastic isn’t doing any harm on a canvas, the inexpensive price point of many acrylics, coupled with its aforementioned versatility, often lends to it being used in a disposable way. And whether it’s being used to create something that is meant to last a long time or to create something that will be thrown out at the end of the season, there is still the fact that many artists and crafters are pouring their acrylic-laden paint water down the drain and into our water supply.
I'll admit, this is an area I've recently felt convicted in. I judge people for spraying their lawns or fields with herbicides and pesticides that can run off into local bodies of water or down sewage drains, but then I throw paint water down my sink. Even though I don't typically use acrylic paint, the paints I do use still could have toxins in them that I'm putting into our water systems. This is why I am currently in the process of trying to figure out a better way to dispose of paint water.
There is also the issue of artists stealing other artists' work. Instead of composing something themselves, many artists act like human photocopiers. They take someone else's photograph — a photograph that is not in the public domain or that the photographer has not given a license for — and copy it, sometimes exactly, other times making minor changes that in no way transform the piece enough to justify Fair Use. Often (most of the time, really), they do this without even crediting the photographer, the real artist behind the image. While there is some leeway when creating art, in this manner, for personal use or practice, that leeway (both ethically and legally) goes out the window when artists use these photocopies to make money. And yet, if anyone takes their work, they are (rightly, if hypocritically) outraged. If an AI model is trained on their work, they cry foul.
For many Conservatives, it may be tempting to say these ethical deficiencies are more prevalent with artists on the Left, but I’ve seen these issues plenty among artists on the Right, too. Most disappointingly, I’ve seen it from too many Christian artists.
Sometimes ignorance can take the blame. Many artists don’t know or have never thought about the moral implications of their craft. However, too often, when cured of their ignorance, many artists will make no alterations. Instead, they will start justifying and rationalizing their actions.
Artists will often use their "starving artist" status as a rationalization, especially when it comes to monetary ethical dilemmas. Or they'll use inspiration as an excuse. "I saw that photograph and I just HAD to paint it!" Really? You "had" to? Your hands involuntarily grabbed a canvas and brushes and painted it before you could stop them? And then you proceeded to involuntarily list prints for sale on your website? Really?
Look, I get it. I get the costs of trying to create products for your art business. I understand that profit margins are slim. And I also understand that sometimes there is no real choice, aside from going into a different career where you will likely be faced with different but equally morally difficult situations. I also understand the temptation that "inspiration" brings. Seeing an image can sometimes cause an urge to create that is difficult to describe to those who have never felt it.
That being said, however strong unethical temptations may be, they can and should be resisted. If we have a choice to do better, to make a moral decision, we should always make that choice.
Of course, not all artists are like this. And art is not the only field that faces ethical dilemmas paired with a Holier Than Thou attitude. In truth, this is a symptom of a larger cultural problem in which morality is relative, even for people who claim to believe otherwise.
As a society, we like to point out all the ills in the world and then act as if we, as individuals, have no choice but to partake in those ills. Sometimes that is true; there absolutely are moments when no good choice exists. But often we do have the ability to, at the very least, minimize our participation in the evils that plague this world.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the name of this publication lately. I’ve had artists tell me they appreciate the sentiment of making art good again; they lament the current state of the mainstream art world, and they want to use their talents and skills to help create a better country, world, and culture. This is how I feel as well. Yet, if we wish to be participants in creating a better culture, then we have to start with ourselves. How can we create a better world if we are unwilling to examine our own unethical actions and attitudes regarding the creation of our own art or the expansion of our businesses?
If we wish to make art good again, if we wish to make a culture that reflects good morals and values, then we must start with ourselves. Before we can Make Art Good Again we must Make Artists Good Again.