The Invisible Economy of Art

One subject that has always interested me is the financial literacy of artists, and more broadly the uncomfortable relationship between art, money and value.

I often imagine an ideal world in which artists are not only taught how to develop a professional practice, but also how to sustain it financially.

Artists are trained to think critically. They study art history, theory, materials, research and conceptual development. They are encouraged to question society, politics, identity and power, yet money remains strangely difficult to discuss. Talking about income, pricing, fees can still feel uncomfortable in the art world. There can be shame around earning too little, but also unease around earning too much. Speaking openly about money can make an artist appear overly commercial, as financial awareness and artistic integrity appears to be somehow incompatible.

Galleries, auction houses, collectors, advisors, fairs and institutions all operate through organised economic structures, where budgets are calculated, commissions are negotiated, prices are positioned and value is communicated. Yet artists are often expected to navigate this system with very little financial knowledge.

I encounter this all the times where artists ask me: How much should I price my work? Is this commission worth accepting? How much should I produce? How can I reduce unnecessary costs? These questions reveal a real gap between developing an artistic practice and understanding how to sustain it.

There is still a persistent idea that the serious artist should remain somehow detached from money. Financial struggle is sometimes romanticised as evidence of authenticity, while commercial awareness is treated with suspicion. But struggling financially does not make an artist more serious, just as understanding money does not make an artist less authentic.

One consequence of this mentality is the normalisation of unpaid labour.

Artists are often invited to participate in exhibitions, talks, open calls in exchange for visibility, networking or future opportunities. Although not every unpaid opportunity is necessarily exploitative, an artist should be able to understand what is being exchanged, what it will cost, and what they may realistically gain from it. Basic financial literacy can help artists evaluate these situations and negotiate more effectively. But this responsibility cannot fall entirely on them.

When unpaid labour becomes structural, the problem belongs to the ecosystem itself. If participation regularly depends on people being able to work for free, then those with financial support will always have an advantage over those who depend entirely on their practice for survival. This makes financial sustainability an issue of access as much as economics.

We often discuss diversity and accessibility in cultural institutions, but rarely consider the financial conditions that determine who can remain in the field long enough to build a career.

Education is part of this problem.

Many artists leave university knowing far more about art history than about contracts, invoices, taxation, pricing, production budgets, insurance, intellectual property or negotiation. Art schools should not become business schools, but basic financial and professional literacy should be part of artistic education.

A professional practice involves real economic structures: materials, studio rent, research time, fabrication, transport, framing, documentation, storage, insurance and taxes. Behind every artwork there is an invisible economy, where the artwork is visible, but the infrastructure that makes it possible usually is not.

Maurizio Cattelan’s work ‘America’ offers an interesting way to think about this question of value. A functional object made from an exceptionally valuable material becomes, through authorship, context, institutional validation and narrative, something far more complex than the sum of its parts. The work translates utility, luxury, irony and cultural value into a single object. It also exposes one of the central contradictions of the art economy: price may be visible, while the mechanisms that construct value are often much less so.

This becomes even more important when we talk about value. Artistic value and financial value are not the same, but neither are they completely separate. An artwork’s price may be shaped by representation, institutional validation, provenance, scarcity, collector demand and market conditions. Cultural value is also constructed through the narratives defined by curators, institutions, critics, galleries, collectors and audiences.

A highly priced artwork is not automatically important, just as an important artwork may have little market value, but artists can easily confuse market performance with artistic validation. Poor sales can feel like artistic failure, while strong sales can feel like proof of quality.

The two are connected, but they are not identical. This is why I increasingly see financial literacy as a form of empowerment.

An artist who understands their financial position can evaluate opportunities more clearly, negotiate contracts, calculate real production costs and make decisions with less dependence on others.

This does not solve the structural problems of the art world.

An artist can be financially literate and still face low fees, delayed payments, high production costs, and limited demand.

The distinction here is important: financial literacy is an individual capability; financial sustainability is an ecosystem condition. The first gives artists more control; the second requires responsibility from galleries, institutions, commissioners, educators, and funders.

The objective should not be to turn artists into better salespeople or push them toward maximum commercial success; it should be to give them enough understanding to build a sustainable practice and make informed choices. For some, sustainability may come through sales; for others, through commissions, grants, teaching, editions, residencies, writing, consulting, or other sources of income.

Perhaps success should not be measured only by how much work an artist sells, but by whether they can continue producing meaningful work over time without financial crisis constantly dictating their decisions.

So the question that interests me is not simply how artists can make more money; it is how we can create an art ecosystem in which financial awareness is no longer considered incompatible with artistic integrity.

Money is already part of the system; the real question is whether artists are given enough knowledge to understand it, and whether the structures around them are responsible enough to operate fairly within it.