On Tuesday morning, I had a chat with 👩‍🎨, a painter in Canada. It was fascinating.

She grew up in a creative home — her parents were scenic painters — and art was always a part of her life and identity. She had a job and a career but also worked in photography, then transitioned to painting in her 40s.

A lifelong struggle with her immune system grew more grave a few years ago, and after some time in the hospital, she went on disability. The one silver lining was an annuity that provided a stable income for years.

But there was a catch. She was forbidden to earn any income from her art, as it would jeopardize her disability benefits.
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When 👩‍🎨 and I began our conversation, she told me she was simmering with resentment over this restriction. Her autonomy, her control over her own life, was being stolen by the seemingly draconian rule.

I wondered if she was asking for advice on finding a way around this rule. But she told me that, though she had considered using an alias to circumvent the system, the thought of having to hide her identity made her even more unhappy.

She said she felt like a chef who loved to cook but couldn't serve her meals to anyone.

That's when a light went off in my head, and I knew how to help her.

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I asked her: Why do you want to make money from your art?

She was surprised. How could she make art if she couldn't sell it? She had to spend money on art supplies. Shouldn't she be paid? What was the point of filling her basement with canvases she couldn't market?

I pointed out that she didn't need extra income; her annuity was sufficient. So, what else did she get out of making art?

She said she has to make art. She loves to create. It's fun, a joy. It makes her feel good. It's just who she is: an artist.

I said to her, "👩‍🎨, you can think about it differently. Rather than being forbidden to make money, you've been handed a gift: the freedom to create without market pressures. You can be the purest kind of artist.

"Throughout history, there have always been artists. It's only in the last couple of centuries that art got bogged down with making money. Our ancestors didn't paint caves or craft pottery with dollar signs in their eyes. They did it for expression, for community, for sheer joy.

"Think about van Gogh! He never sold a painting, and yet he made art every day. His brother gave him money to buy his paints unconditionally. He was financially supported, just like you are. Perhaps you should start calling your annuity "Theo" in his honor. It'll allow you to paint your heart out without worrying about the bills — if you let it."

As for feeling like a chef who can't feed people, I said, "Hey, you can still nourish people with your art. You're just not handing them a check at the end!

"Why not spread your art where it's needed most? Retirement homes, homeless shelters, even social media – give away the art for the cost of postage. Ask the recipient to pay for it by sending back a picture of it hanging in its new home and sharing comments visitors have about it. Isn't that better than selling it to an anonymous patron through a gallery, your painting disappearing into some mansion somewhere, never to be heard from again?"

She'd mentioned that she'd been very active on Instagram back when she sold her work. I threw in this idea: "What if you use Instagram not to sell — but to share the joy of creating art without a price?" It's revolutionary, turning the tables on a platform that's all about monetizing everything.

"You could become the artist famous for not selling her art," I suggested. "Think about it: Van Gogh's legacy isn't his sales record, but his undying passion for art, right?"

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Then, I pointed out that making art was therapeutic for her auto-immune condition. I mentioned the essay I wrote a few weeks ago about the scientific evidence for all the healthy reasons to create art and how it can lower the levels of the stress hormone cortisol and boost her immunity. She said she'd read it and agreed absolutely.

"So, I said, do you think it's unreasonable that you have to pay something for your medicines? Or let's say your doctor told you that eating certain foods would make you stronger. Would you resent having to buy them? Maybe you should think of your art supplies that way, too. Just a small price to pay to feel better."

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I could see the wheels turning in her head as we talked.

By the end of our call, 👩‍🎨 was buzzing with ideas, a renewed sense of empowerment fueling her. She promised to keep me in the loop, and I can't wait to see where this takes her.
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👩‍🎨's tale is unusual, but it hits close to home. It suggests all of us think differently about art and success. Ignore the klaxons of commerce and return to the heart of why we create. Art isn't just a product; it's part of who we are.

And that's just not for sale.

Your pal,

Danny

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