An artist can be repeatedly recognized, funded by grants, known within professional networks, pedagogically qualified, a union member, and widely experienced — and still be treated in working life as if their work were somehow less real.
This is not accidental.
It is an attitude.
A silent assumption is placed upon the artist: your work’s value is uncertain.
It is rarely spoken aloud, but it appears everywhere — in workload calculations, resourcing, documents, contracts, and in how easily an artist’s actual work can later be redefined according to a “list,” a model, or an administrative interpretation.
The artist’s work is considered flexible — but only in one direction.
A Worthless Maker, a Valuable Commodity
At the same time, countless others benefit directly from art.
Institutions build credibility through art.
Educational systems rely on artists’ expertise.
Cities shape their image through art.
Companies borrow the language, aesthetics, and thinking of art.
Audiences live, grow, and endure through art.
The value of art is unquestioned.
The value of the artist is constantly negotiated.
This contradiction is not a mistake.
It is structural.
The Artist Does Not Fit the Model — and Pays for It
An artist’s work is not linear. It is layered, project-based, long-term, and often invisibly demanding. Precisely for that reason, it does not fit neatly into administrative categories.
And when work does not fit the model, the model begins to doubt the worker.
The artist is not doubted because they lack skill.
They are doubted because their work does not follow a familiar form.
The consequences are concrete:
work is under-resourced
responsibility increases without corresponding recognition
reality disappears from documentation
and eventually, the artist’s own lived experience is invalidated
The artist finds themselves fighting to be seen even when everything should already be clear.
Presence as Resistance
I understood this with sudden clarity when I realized I had become a disturbance.
Not because I broke rules, but because I was present.
Without a role.
Without a need to turn art into a tool.
Without a desire to own it.
This disturbed those who had appropriated art without standing at its core — people for whom art had become a livelihood, a language of control, or a means of shaping others.
For me, art was not a tool.
It was the core of being and thinking.
And these two positions are not neutral in relation to one another.
When the Core Enters the Room
Layers form around art: administration, education, funding, expert discourse. They may be necessary, but they are not art.
They live off art.
When an artist who has not dissolved into these layers is simply present, friction emerges.
Not as a personal threat, but as a reminder:
Art belongs to no one.
It cannot be owned.
And this is precisely why presence itself becomes resistance.
The Language of Resolution
Resolution is not always adaptation.
It is not learning the correct terminology or fitting into a predefined shape.
For the artist, resolution may be the opposite:
being in the wrong place in the right way
refusing to turn the core into a commodity
remaining undefined in a world that demands definitions
This is not withdrawal.
It is precise, conscious resistance.
When an artist is perceived as a disturbance, it means a system is trying to protect itself. Disturbance only arises when a power structure is destabilized.
The artist’s task is not to make themselves harmless.
The artist’s task is to remain.
Closing Poem
I did not come to be useful.
I came to be real.
I did not come to fill space,
but to reveal
what had been covered
by structures,
lists,
explanations.
When I stand still,
something begins to move.
Not within me,
but around me.
Art does not ask permission to emerge.
It happens
when someone dares to be present
without ownership.
And if that disturbs,
it is not a flaw.
It is a sign
that the core
is still alive.