Published on Saturday, May 15, 2021 by Agitator Co-operative

The Problem of Alienation in Art-Making

by Josh Mei, Agitator member

It is widely understood by artists that art-making can be a very joyful and liberating process, but can the opposite be true too? What if art-making were unpleasant and constraining? During the month of December in 2020, when I discovered a technique that was then new to me—one where I would draw non-intersecting lines of different colors on paper to create the beautiful impression of new tints and hues—I also discovered how much I disliked the kind of work that went into it. Filling a blank sheet of paper with non-intersecting lines from left to right, top to bottom? Sounds simple enough.

But let’s consider the toll it took on my soul and body. The gesture was repetitive. Left to right. Left to right. Left to right. I think I died a bit inside. What’s more, making sure the lines did not intersect also required an extra emphasis on the control of the medium (i.e., markers). That meant the movement had to not only be directed carefully, but also be done as smoothly as possible. It meant drawing the lines required much concentration too. And to ensure that I had control of the markers to draw smooth lines in a focused fashion, it was not easy on my neck, back, wrist, and elbow.

One can say I could minimize these negative effects on my soul and body by changing environmental factors like listening to music, working on my posture by drawing on an easel, and being away from other people, but I am doubtful whether making such improvements will make me dislike this process less. Why should I find distractions? What if I wish to work around other people? Of course, one can also say that I should just forsake this process completely if I dislike it so much. My response: I enjoy the end product too much to do so. But does art require sacrifices that we definitely need to make? Or can we possibly have the best of both worlds? What if I want a nice final product but also not lose a part of myself during the process?

This event made me remember a time during the summer of 2016 when a friend asked me to design a betta fish tattoo for her. I agreed and drew up a design with ink and watercolor, one that I thought was “me.” She said it looked great, but also wondered if I could draw up some more designs to give her options. I hesitated. I fell into despair. I already put most of my energy into it! Later, I drew another design, but it felt forced and, in my opinion, was not as good as the first one. Having second thoughts that my design would not work as a tattoo and that I cannot really bear the responsibility of designing a permanent imprint on my friend’s body, I apologized to her and dropped the project.

What is the significance of the aforementioned incident? I realized that art-making for me was (and still is) a very personal and, dare I say, selfish pursuit because I prefer to make the things that I want to make. It is difficult for me to materialize somebody else’s vision into art, while taking into consideration their liking of it as well as my satisfaction. As always, one can say practice makes perfect, and I have not done enough commission work to get the hang of it. But, to this day, I do not do commission work because it comes with too much responsibility, too many considerations, and I feel like I lose a part of myself during the process.

All of this is not to say repetitive work and commission work are bad and should be shunned. I acknowledge and support the fact that there are artists who thrive and find enjoyment in these types of work, but they are just not for me. At least not right now. However, I think all this brings us to a final question: can we envision a society where people can make art without losing themselves? Karl Marx called this process of losing ourselves in work alienation. This losing ourselves in work is not the same as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s more positive concept of flow where, with a good balance of skill to handle the right amount of  challenge of a task, a person can find immersion and fulfillment in their work. Rather, alienation is more negative and dehumanizing in its effects on people through work in capitalist societies. Our humanity and other people become foreign to us and are lost. What we make and how we make it also are not really ours.

In doing commissions and selling original pieces, prints, and other forms of merchandise, artists usually have the obligation to cater to their clients’ tastes and wishes. And to survive as an artist in a capitalist society, one usually has to work for another person or group; and one risks alienating themselves in the process. There is no denying that this is a necessity that artists have to subject themselves to, but why should there be such a necessity? Wouldn’t the world be a bit more beautiful and wonderful if artists can make what they want, how they want, with whoever they want, for whoever they want, without worrying about jeopardizing these wishes for the sake of making ends meet? In other words, wouldn’t things be even better if we can elevate the process of art-making from a mere hobby to a way of life—with material compensation, beyond the realm of commerce—and basic necessities like education, healthcare, public transportation, and housing are all adequate and provided to everybody?

Definitely, and we should make that our reality.