Local coffee shops aren’t just places to grab a cup of coffee—they’re community hubs.
They host events, support local causes, collaborate with nearby businesses, and create spaces where people feel connected.
Artists can take a page from their book by focusing on building a community, not just amassing followers.
Engage with your audience beyond your art.
Collaborate with other artists, participate in community projects, and support causes that align with your values.
Just like coffee shops thrive by being a part of the local fabric, artists can foster deeper connections by showing up for their community.
Building a community means creating spaces—online or offline—where people feel seen, valued, and connected to something bigger than just the art itself.
It’s about creating a sense of belonging that turns casual fans into loyal supporters.
I recently came across the phrase, “Slow is the fastest way to get where you want to go,” and it resonated deeply with me.
For someone who’s always thinking ahead and eager to chase the next big idea, it’s easy to believe that moving faster will get me there sooner. But, the reality has often been different.
In the past, I’ve pushed myself too hard and burned out, rushing toward a vision without grounding myself in the present moment.
Now, I’m learning that speed isn’t always the answer.
Slowing down doesn’t mean losing momentum—it means aligning my actions with my deeper vision and connecting with the process meaningfully and purposefully.
It’s about focusing on intentional steps rather than racing toward an undefined finish line.
For me, embracing a slower pace is about trust.
Trusting that meaningful progress comes not from force but from focus.
It’s about letting things unfold naturally, knowing that with each step, I’m getting closer to where I want to be—not rushed, but ready.
Lately, I've realized that I've been placing more value on being "smart" than being willing to embrace the fool.
I judged the fool for a long time, associating it with impulsiveness, failure, or carelessness.
But I've started to see the relief and freedom in being willing to make mistakes, to step into the unknown, and to accept that not every move needs to be calculated.
In adopting a beginner's mindset, I can let go of the pressure always to be perfect or strategic.
The willingness to fail doesn't undermine my intellect; it enhances my creativity and opens me up to new possibilities.
There's wisdom in being the fool—an openness to learning and growth that can coexist with the careful, thoughtful side of me.
Maybe the fool isn't something to judge after all.
Maybe it's a necessary part of the process, a place where relief, play, and true innovation begin.
Change is constant, but when I know it's coming, I feel a pit of anxiety in my solar plexus.
I’m much more comfortable reacting in the moment, trusting my intuition than preparing for it in advance.
Anticipating change throws me off balance.
In the moment, I can trust myself to adapt, but knowing change is coming triggers overthinking and stress.
The unknowns—how things will unfold, how I'll feel—create tension that builds up.
I’m at my best when I can react on the spot.
The challenge for me is managing the discomfort around planning for change without losing the ease I find in spontaneous response.
In the art world, balancing passion and profit is a challenge many artists face. They must navigate fluctuating markets and platforms, which can sometimes feel more exploitative than supportive, while also trying to maintain their creative integrity. This week’s Cryptoart Question of the Week prompted various responses from artists sharing their strategies for sustaining artistic passion and financial success.
Recurring themes emerged from the discussion, including basic incomes as a potential solution for financial stability, profit as a creative driver, the practicality of freelancing and other ways to subsidize art, and the importance of confidence and self-advocacy. These themes illustrate the different approaches artists use to navigate the complexities of the art world while remaining true to their creative vision.
Basic Incomes
One of the most intriguing ideas came from @ilannnnnnkatin, who proposed that a basic income could free artists from the pressure of market forces. He envisioned a world where artists wouldn’t need to create work out of financial desperation. Instead, he could produce “something beautiful they know in their heart is possible,” sparking a transformative shift in the art world. [1]
@y0b supported the idea by pointing out research that shows how financial stress limits cognitive ability, which in turn restricts artistic potential. With financial burdens lifted, he believes more artists would be able to produce their best work, leading to greater diversity and creativity in the community. [2]
Profit as a Creative Driver
While some participants advocated for a basic income to protect the integrity of art, others saw profit as a vital motivator for creativity. @sgt-sl8termelon argued that profit could “spur deep dives and fanatical obsessive large-scale projects,” which might not happen otherwise. He acknowledged that the pursuit of profit risks corrupting the purity of art. Still, he emphasized that it can also drive innovation and productivity, particularly when improving one’s material conditions is at stake. “Beyond a certain threshold, if you have a family, it just becomes selfish indulgence,” he added, suggesting that financial incentives can push artists to create more impactful work. [3]
Similarly, @maxximillian.eth embraced profit as a bold driver, stating, “I want to leverage my passion for 9999X profit.” [4] This highlights the ambition to push creative work for substantial financial gain, even though the group overall acknowledged the tension between profit and passion. This tension shows that profit can either fuel an artist’s drive or risk undermining their passion, depending on how it’s balanced.
Freelancing and Subsidizing Art
Freelancing emerged as a practical way to balance financial needs with artistic pursuits. @eddie shared that freelancing “for money, art on the side” is a common strategy among artists. [5] This approach allows artists to sustain themselves financially while leaving room for creative projects. Freelancing, he noted, creates opportunities for experimentation, which can inform and refine artistic direction. However, he cautioned that freelancing, wildly when unrelated to the artist’s skills, can limit their full potential. [6]
For @mxjxn.eth, full-time work offered a different kind of freedom. After stepping away from full-time art to take a day job, he found that the financial stability allowed him to create only when he felt creatively ready, avoiding the rush to produce art purely for profit. While freelancing or balancing other work with art may not be ideal for every artist, it can provide a crucial safety net, enabling more thoughtful, intentional creative work.
Confidence and Self-Advocacy
Finally, confidence and self-advocacy emerged as critical themes in balancing passion and profit. @gressie highlighted the importance of confidence in one’s artistic vision as key to navigating the market without compromising personal integrity. Encouraging artists to “keep moving and speak for your art as much as your art speaks for you,” suggesting that self-advocacy allows artists to stay true to their creative instincts while engaging with the commercial side of the art world. This balance of confidence and strategic self-promotion helps artists thrive both creatively and financially. [8]
The discussion around balancing passion and profit revealed various strategies artists use to sustain their work. While some see basic income as a way to escape market pressures, others find profit a driving force for creativity. Working for someone else provides another option for financial stability; through it all, confidence and self-advocacy remain crucial. Ultimately, no solution works for everyone, but rather, a spectrum of approaches artists can use to navigate the ever-evolving art world.
Notes
One of the main reasons I write is that it helps me get my thoughts out in front of me, much like sketching.
Lately, though, I’m much more comfortable sharing my writing than my sketches.
It’s funny because it used to be the opposite, and I’m unsure when that changed.
There’s something about seeing my ideas in words that feels clearer and more tangible.
When I was younger, sketching felt like my truest expression, but over time, writing took over.
Maybe it's because words offer a certain kind of precision, or maybe I've just evolved in how I connect with my creativity.
Either way, here I am, writing more and keeping my sketches a little closer to the chest.
As an introvert, casual relationships can be tough for me to sustain.
Small talk and surface-level socializing feel draining without a deeper connection or shared activity to ground the interaction.
I’ve realized that I connect best when there’s real meaning behind the exchange—something more substantial than just keeping up appearances.
Without that, I find it hard to maintain these relationships, as they often lack the engagement I need to feel truly connected.
When learning something new, getting caught up in the pursuit of knowledge is easy.
But learning doesn’t truly matter until you put it into action.
It’s not about memorizing facts or mastering theories; it’s about applying what you’ve learned, taking that next step, and turning ideas into reality.
Learning becomes most meaningful when you take what you know and do something with it.
Don’t just gather information—use it, build on it, and make it count.
In the end, action is what drives change and makes learning worthwhile.
Marie Kondo’s book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, is well-known for helping people decide what to let go of in their homes by using joy as a guiding metric.
I've found this approach valuable in other areas of my life as well.
I’ve adapted one of her techniques to help me when people, situations, activities, or even books and classes start to clutter my mind with frustration.
I ask myself, “Does it/they/this bring me joy?” If the answer is yes, I keep it.
If the answer is no, but I still feel inclined to hold on, I then ask, “Has it/they/this served its purpose?” If it has, then I know it’s time to let go.
If it hasn’t, I’ll keep it for now.
The key to making this work is being brutally honest when answering these questions.
Thankfully, my inner critic never lets me get away with lying to myself, so I can rely on that voice to keep me accountable.
Growth often comes from pushing boundaries.
Experimenting with new techniques, mediums, or even blending traditional and modern methods can lead to unexpected and groundbreaking results.
It's about stepping out of the comfort zone and embracing the unknown, allowing for innovation to take the lead.