The Ecosystem Behind the Artwork

I recently gave myself three months away from teaching workshops so I could focus on my own artwork.

Three whole months.

I imagined long days in the studio. Printmaking. Bookmaking. Exploring ideas. Working towards my upcoming solo exhibition.

And I did all of those things to some degree.

But I was also reminded of something else.

Artists don’t just make art.

We run businesses.

A few years ago, I wrote a blog post titled When is Art Too Expensive or Too Cheap?

In that post, I shared a quote by Rebekah Joy Plett:
“When you buy something from an artist, you’re buying more than an object. You’re buying hundreds of hours of errors and experimentation. You’re buying years of frustration and moments of pure joy.”

I still love that quote.

But lately I’ve been thinking about another side of the story.

Every artwork is supported by an ecosystem of unseen work.

Artists don’t just make art.
We are small business owners, carrying many of the same responsibilities and demands as any other small business.

And if you’ve never run a small business, let me assure you it isn’t long lunches, oodles of free time and endless holidays!

If you have, or do, run a small business, you know exactly what I’m writing about!

For many years I’ve balanced my own art practice alongside teaching printmaking workshops. I love teaching. I’m passionate about both printmaking and education. I feel incredibly fortunate to spend my days sharing skills, ideas and creative experiences with others.

But if I’m honest, there are times when I feel like I’m being buried under administration.

There have been periods where I spend more time working on the business than working in the studio. Days where I can’t seem to get away from behind the computer, to get back into the studio to create.

And that can be difficult. Frustrating. Challenging.

During my three-month break from teaching, I thought I would spend every day making art.

Instead, I was reminded how much time is spent planning, researching, photographing, writing, organising and managing the countless moving parts that support a creative practice.

The experience reinforced something I’ve known for a long time, but have only recently been able to articulate.

Creativity doesn’t exist in isolation.
Around every artwork is an ecosystem.
An ecosystem of preparation, learning, experimentation, administration and maintenance.
An ecosystem that allows the creative work to happen.

Many artists work second jobs, freelance roles or teaching positions to support their practice. Others balance family responsibilities, caring roles and community commitments alongside their creative work.

The finished artwork is only the visible part.
The rest is largely unseen.

I’m not sharing this because I want sympathy. Quite the opposite.

I love what I do.

I feel privileged and deeply grateful to make artwork, teach workshops, and share both with the people who support my business.

I’m sharing it because I think it’s important to recognise that artists are real businesses, with real costs, real responsibilities and real demands on their time.

The artwork hanging on a wall, sitting on a shelf or resting in a collection is never just the product of a few hours or days in a studio.

It’s the result of an entire ecosystem working quietly behind the scenes.

And for every person who buys an artwork, attends a workshop, enrols in a course or simply shares what we do with others – thank you.
You help sustain that ecosystem.
And that support matters more than you probably realise.

I’d love to know – what does your own “unseen ecosystem” look like?