The Invisible Artist and the Culture of Indifference

To all those I've lost connection with, not because of poor signal, but because I’m simply no longer playing that game.

Let’s be honest.There’s a peculiar condition that afflicts the contemporary artist, especially the emerging kind, a sort of selective invisibility.

You’re seen. Watched. Scrutinised.

Your stories on “Insta-whatever” get opened with the regularity of a morning weather report, as if your life were a forecast worth tracking.

But likes? Comments? Genuine engagement?As rare as rain in the desert.

And yet they're there. I see them watching, every single day. The so-called "friends" are always quick to say:

“Wow, this is beautiful!” with that smile that feels like a crumpled business card. Let’s be clear: no one’s asking you to say anything if you don’t feel it.

But they're there, dropping by your studio, strolling into your exhibition, looking at your canvases with a mix of admiration and pity, as if you were volunteering in the kingdom of wasted dreams.

And here’s the question:

Why is it that an artist friend is worth less than a tax advisor?

(No offence to accountants.) But wouldn’t it be more natural to support a friend who creates beauty, rather than one who just reminds you how much you owe the government?

Yet here we are. Not once has a so-called friend bought a print, a painting, not even a tiny sketch on the back of a napkin.

Now, let’s be fair. Some people do support you. But there are others – too many – who visit your space with that "charity vibe":

“I’m doing you a favour by being here, don’t push it by asking me to spend.”

Then there are those who receive your art as a gift. Ah, the emotion! The gratitude! The joy! Only to find out months later your painting ended up behind a wardrobe, right next to the exercise bike they never used.

So from now on: NO MORE FREE ART.

You want it? Buy it. Or earn it the hard way.

And the excuses, oh, the excuses:“

I’ve got two kids, work’s insane, time just slips away…”

Right. Because as an artist, clearly I don’t work.I just float around in a cloud of creative energy, gently brushing the edges of reality with invisible canvases and imaginary paint.

Yet, when it comes to home decor, there they are:choosing a mass-produced IKEA print for £30 – frame included. Refined taste, no?

And the cherry on top: "Your work’s really nice, but it’s a bit pricey..."

Pricey? You – with your £1000 iPhone (which you'll replace in eight months), your £5-a-day coffee and croissant habit, your £60 poorly stitched t-shirts just because they bear the right logo – I’m pricey?

Let’s face it: Art hasn’t lost value. People have lost the ability to recognise it.

We live in a world that demands speed, clarity, and convenience. But art? Art takes time. It requires presence, vulnerability, attention. And that’s terrifying.

But maybe the answer is simple: just stop caring. Create for the sake of it. Paint because it’s who you are. And let others drown in their infinite scrolls.

Because eventually, someone will understand. Maybe not a friend, not family, not anyone who’s known you for years. But someone, somewhere, will stand in front of your painting and feel something.

And then maybe, just maybe, all of this will have been worth it. Or maybe not. But I’m still painting.

And your IKEA print? Try not to knock it over – it’s really quite fragile.

Final thought: Think about it.

Investing in art isn’t just about hanging a pretty object on a wall. It’s about choosing to give value to something that speaks.Something that endures, that doesn’t fade like a passing trend. True art – the kind that tells a story, stirs emotions, dares to challenge – never expires.

It’s not a generic sunset. It’s not the millionth New York skyline. It’s not that kitten printed on ten million canvases sold via Amazon, IKEA, or “Made in Wherever” outlets.

A piece by an independent artist – someone emerging, someone real – might grow in value over time.But even if it doesn’t, it remains something you chose because it moved you.Because it meant something.

And that already makes it priceless.

Today, authentic art is within reach. You don’t need to be rich to own it.Just open your eyes, your heart, and have a bit of courage.

If you invest in something true, something that resonates,you won’t just own an artwork – you’ll own a moment. A fragment of time you were brave enough to see.

And if you can’t see that yet… Maybe it’s not the art that’s missing.

Maybe it’s just your vision that needs catching up.

Thanks for reading this far. If this struck a chord, share it with someone who matters. Post it, pass it on – let’s rebuild some real connections while we’re still here.Let’s not become ants in the void.

Drop a comment, send a thought. Art begins in the spaces between us.