Making a Living
- Eric Wieringa
- Mar 2
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 5
Can you make a living from your art?
Bring that question into a room of artists and you’ll quickly see two warring tribes emerge.
Voices rise. Eyebrows sharpen. Someone references Van Gogh. Someone quotes Elizabeth Gilbert. It gets real fast.
Purists vs. Pragmatists.
The Purists
The first group are the Purists, the guardians of the muse. They’ll tell you that to make money from your art is to limit its freedom, that the moment a dollar enters the equation, something sacred is lost.
They believe art should be done for its own sake.
You might hear them say:
“Art is not a career choice; it’s a lifestyle, a devotion to something higher.”
Purists remind us that external demands can blur the purpose of art, and that burdening creativity with financial pressure can muddle its intent. For them, keeping a separate source of income isn’t avoidance, it's protection. It allows the artist to stay honest, to create from a place of truth rather than necessity.
On the more extreme end, Purists can be cynical about the very possibility of making a living from art. They point to the attrition rates of art school graduates, the number of working artists who also teach, and the tiny percentage who sustain themselves solely through their studio practice.
To them, these statistics confirm what they already suspect: art is not a career, it's a calling that asks for sacrifice, not sustainability.
They see art as something wild and untamed, too holy to bear the burden of our financial obligations.
The Pragmatists
The second group are the Pragmatists, the ones who elevate craft over mystique. They’ll tell you that the time, skill, and devotion you invest in your work should be rewarded. To them, making a living from your art isn’t just possible, it’s honorable. Being paid affirms the value of what artists contribute.
Pragmatists remind us that we can fall so in love with our artistic ideals that the art never actually gets made. Calling art “too pure” for money can become a mask for fear: fear of failing, fear of being seen, fear of fully committing.
For them, it’s not art for art’s sake, but art for work's sake.
Getting paid isn’t selling out, it’s showing up.
It’s placing yourself in a position where the work must get done.
In their eyes, monetizing your art isn’t bowing to the corporate machine, it’s an act of resistance. A protest against the notion that creativity is frivolous, indulgent, or something you’re supposed to do only after your “real job.” They push back against the myth of the starving artist, the quiet belief that art has no practical value.
You’ll often hear them say:
“If you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.”
What they mean is this:
If fulfillment only exists outside of work, your life gets split in two.
Work becomes something you endure to pay bills, while joy and meaning get pushed to evenings, weekends, and retirement.
To the Pragmatists, that compartmentalized life is a kind of slow death. If most of life is spent working, and we experience work only as survival, then we’ve wasted the majority of our days.
So for them, making a living from art isn’t just about money, it’s about integrity. It’s about reclaiming your hours, your energy, your very life, for the thing you were made to do.
So, Who’s Right?
I’ve seen these two groups argue passionately, almost theatrically, about the nobility of artistic enterprise, each convinced they’re protecting something essential.
One side says, “The art itself is the reward.”
The other says, “The work is the reward.”
One says, keep the day job and hit up those adjunct spots.
The other says “those who can't do, teach.”
One insists remaining true to yourself means staying unburdened by market pressure.
The other believes that passion and commissions can coexist.
One justifies their day job for the sake of creative and financial freedom.
The other justifies restricting their art for money, because at least they are developing their craft instead of doing something unrelated.
Both are sincere.
And both are protecting something precious.
The Purists protect the soul of the work.
They’re right: Art is sacred.
Our relationship to it does change when it becomes transactional.
Financial pressure can narrow the imagination and turn play into performance.
The Pragmatists protect the practice of the work.
They’re also right: Art is work. A blue-collar attitude keeps your hands moving.
Careers are built not in breakthroughs, but in accumulated days.
Both are right, because art needs both perspectives.
Art for Life’s Sake
There may be disagreements about how creativity and commerce should mix, but both groups agree on this:
Making art only for money is hollow.
A painting can be flawless and still have no pulse.
For art to live, the heart has to be in it.
But, this debate was never really about making money.
It’s about making a life.
The question is not:
Can art pay for your life?
The real question is:
Can you build a life that makes space for your art to flourish?
A life where your days are spent practicing what matters.
Where creativity is not squeezed into the margins, but given room to breathe.
Where art is not something you escape to, but something you live from.
Not purity over practicality.
Not labor over mystery.
But a life where art and living sustain each other.
Art that nourishes you.
Art that stretches you.
Art that wakes you up.
Art for life's sake
For You, the Artist
To the Pragmatists:
I know you see the word “Hobby” as a pejorative, but don’t shame yourself if your art isn't paying all the bills yet. “Making a living” can include teaching, workshops, collaborations, and parallel creative work.
If your goal is to be full-time, then honor that goal, patiently and strategically.
Assess the costs, the trade-offs, the seasons you’re in.
Fulfill your responsibilities.
Build the foundation beneath the dream.
Just remember: working another job to support your art is not failure, it might actually accentuate your art.
To the Purists:
Don’t be so quick to assume one cannot make enough money to do their art full-time. It's a big downer, and no one likes a downer! Your instinct to protect the muse, to keep art from being twisted by pressure or profit, is wise. But the day job is not automatically noble, and getting paid for your art is not automatically corrupt. If your current employment nourishes your creativity, keep it. If it suffocates it, rethink it.
So, can you make a living from your art?
Yes.
There are no guarantees.
It may require sacrifice. It may require patience.
It may require living differently than others.
But it is possible.
Above all, remember:
What you are making is not the money, it's the living.
If you’re trying to build a life that makes space for your art—not just a career, but a way of living, I’d love to walk that road with you. The Painted Path is a mentoring program for artists ready to shape a sustainable creative life with courage, clarity, and intention.
Come take the next step.
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