Cut it Out! The Costly Double Standard in Creative Arts

We were fortunate to recently visit Matisse's Jazz: Rhythms in Color exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago. The gallery's main focus was on Henri Matisse's final chapter of his storied career, when he was bedridden following a surgery—unable to paint, he created cut-paper art—he dubbed this medium, "drawing with scissors."

I've always been a fan of Matisse's vibrant colors—it was great to see his art in person—but, I couldn't help but think about all the artists we don't hear much about, whose multimedia work, using unconventional mediums and materials have been minimized, reduced, or ignored in creative arts conversations or mainstream art history.

Collaging, curating spaces, fabric arts, interior design, paper arts and crafts, scrapbooking, sewing, quilting, tablescaping—throughout history, these creative expressions, handiwork, and worthy artistic trades, often practiced by women, have often been dismissed as merely decorative or relegated to terms, such as, domestic arts and crafts, or simply . . . cute, rather than heralded as the art they truly are—while men like Henri Matisse were praised as innovative artists for strikingly similar work.

I'd like to think things have changed, but these annoyingly outdated biases still creep into the arts and, well, society in general—in snide remarks toward female artists, in the omission of female artists' works from certain art spaces, in leaving female artists out of the art conversation altogether, in discriminatory hiring bias that favors men over women in creative roles, in the lack of appreciation for certain creative handiwork—unless it's produced by certain artists, who run in certain circles, and even better . . . can be scaled, for the masses . . .

As a furniture artist, I still witness and have fallen victim to this costly double standard.

And yes, it's costly. From insultingly-low offers on my functional furniture art, to the rude but commonplace starving artist-type comments carelessly thrown towards me and others in this creative space—it certainly takes a toll on the spirit, the noggin, and yeah, the bank account.

But stubborn artists like me persist—in spite of the naysayers and doing work that I love that doesn't always love me back—hoping to create pieces of memorable, functional art that resonate with others, and add a little beauty, magic, nostalgia, and whimsy into their living and work spaces.

There's some great idioms, quips and mantras that circulate online, and probably many notable literary pieces out there that remind us about our value as a creative human, especially in a world where currency is a strong extrinsic motivator and unfortunate influencer of self worth.

Here's a few:

"The wrong place will make you question your value. The right place will remind you of it."

or . . . this one:

"Stop trying to sell steak to a vegetarian."

Thankfully, I'm getting better at learning where the right places and where the right people are, for my art, and myself . . . adapting and evolving in a fluctuating and often discouraging creative arts market.

Gratefully, those right people who see me, my art, and have recently been supporting my small-but-struggling creative corner of this world, are making it feel like it's all worth it—pursuing a non-traditional career in the creative arts—whatever the cost.