John Divola, Zuma #21, 1977
Sledgehammers
on capitalism and the responsibility of being an artist
My friends and I have been talking about feeling less ambitious these days. Despite being burned out from carving out our own modes of survival to make ends meet, I don’t think we’re less ambitious, I think we’re just in the process of redirecting our ambition and it leads to a confusing, purgatory-like state of mind. In a society that is obsessed with monetizing everything––and not even in a way that actually supports a living wage for artists, or anyone, for that matter––what is the value of upholding creative integrity? What is the point in making meaningful things in a world where it is easier to make a living off of things that are meaningless?
Capitalism encourages us to place meaningless value on superficial things. Wanting material things is ok. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a nice car, especially if you plan on keeping it forever. There is nothing wrong with wanting to make money either. I want to make enough money to support myself, live healthily, and take care of my dog. What I’m saying is, it’s important to understand why you want something. Do you want to make money because you think people will like you more? Or do you want to make money so you can afford to buy food without harmful preservatives in it? Capitalism wants you to believe you are only deserving of certain things if you can make enough money to buy them. Capitalism doesn’t want you to ask why? Capitalism does not want us to think for ourselves.
Capitalism tricks us into thinking we need to be one dimensional because you’re more marketable that way. That’s why Instagram became such a hit, it flattens everything. Capitalism is not interested in depth or multiplicity. Capitalism only supports a work/life balance for those who can afford to have one. Capitalism is an energy vampire. Capitalism thrives on urgency and anxiety. Capitalism tricks us into thinking we need to live quickly, that if we move slow or take meandering paths, we are failing. Capitalism tricks us into monetizing Time which is why it’s common for us to measure the quality of our day based on if we were “productive” or not. Capitalism tricks us into believing quantity is more valuable than quality.
Making something of quality takes Time. Time creates depth. Depth in ideas. Depth in vision. Depth in flavor. We are expected to move so quickly—and efficiently, while multitasking, in a busy, fast-paced environment—we don’t have Time to let things marinate. We are constantly wiping our palettes clean before even getting a taste. We need Hindsight in order to know what something is. Hindsight is how we make sense of the past. But Hindsight is not just about looking back, it is about looking in every direction. Hindsight adds dimension to Time.
Humans have dimension but you wouldn’t know it by looking at someone’s Instagram profile. In the eyes of capitalism, humans are machines. I have worked a handful of jobs where I became a human machine. I have also worked a job where I was a human machine operating literal machinery. I worked that job during the summer “BREAK MY SOUL” by Beyoncé came out. That song is by no means a tearjerker but when you’ve been white knuckling your way through the day, five days a week, for months on end, the Big Freedia sample does something akin to what a meditation guide does––release ya anger, release ya mind, release ya job, release the time, release ya trade, release the stress, release the love, forget the rest––and the catharsis can be explosive.
Another quality of Time is about letting go of control. When you let go of control, you practice patience. When you have more patience, you create more space. You open up. You look and listen closer. Looking and listening is how we connect with other living things, as living things. When you have more patience, you leave more room for connection, which creates more room for empathy. Capitalism does not give a fucking fuck about empathy. Capitalism fuels individualism and pits us against each other. Capitalism makes us believe there is only one way of doing things. Every generation thinks the younger generation doesn’t want to work when really the younger generation is just sick of engaging with a system that exploits them instead of caring for them.
Every generation tells the younger generation eventually you’re going to have to face reality. Unless you are living in a state of pure delusion, what they mean is eventually you’re going to have to accept capitalism’s linear way of living in what is really a non-linear world. Facing reality means looking at what is actually happening in your life and your surroundings, with no fucking filter, and deciding for yourself, where you want to direct your attention. When you give your attention to something, you place value on it. That is why it feels really bad when you spend a lot of time doing something that doesn’t align with what you value. That sounds really obvious but if you are anything like me, that alone can make a lifetime of frustration make sense in an earth-shattering way when you realise there isn’t anything wrong with you, your values are just inherently anti-capitalist.
When I realised the way capitalism shaped my creative practice, I felt like everything I had ever made was compromised. Ever since, I feel like I have been trying to scrub off the lingering feeling of an unwanted touch. The only way to combat that feeling is by making work that draws attention to the things I value, in the most meaningful way I can because it is not just about the work itself but it is about how I spend that Time making the work and how you spend your Time engaging with it. It is an artist’s responsibility to ask questions that prompt you to ask your own questions. It is an artist’s responsibility to create meaningful, ceaseless depth in a world that relentlessly rejects it. Capitalism is a monolith that blocks the view of a beautiful, expansive landscape. When I ask a question that prompts you to ask your own question, I am handing you a sledgehammer.
September 2024