THOUGHTS ON THE VALUE OF AN ARTIST
Tuesday, the 27th of October 2026
A transcript of a fleeting thought by Chelsea Jean Lamm
There appears to be a considerable gap between how artists perceive the value of their work and how the world perceives it. I can only speak from my own experience, with the individual, emotional and undeniable attachment I have developed to my art.
The simple truth is this: my creativity and my art are invaluable to me. Being creative, and bringing something into existence with my own hands, is the greatest form of freedom, self-liberation and fulfilment I have ever known.
It goes without saying that I will protect this freedom, which art offers me so generously, with my entire being. I have come to understand that money alone can never generate this particular kind of happiness or freedom. Money, and what it does to people, is a fascinating thing to observe. We all understand the value it holds, and we are repeatedly told that the more we acquire, the happier we will become.
I have had countless conversations about this, almost every single week. It seems socially acceptable to question the value of living a creative life, and, by extension, to criticize almost every aspect of it. As a woman and an artist, I encounter these remarks repeatedly: they come from friends, family, strangers and acquaintances of people I have never even met. My husband, on the other hand, works in IT and has never been scrutinized or questioned in quite the same way.
I cannot help but ask: have we really forgotten how extraordinarily precious and invaluable art and creativity are?
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I have been in this industry for some time now, and I made the conscious decision not to sell the art I create during its first years. The audacity! I know. I have heard it all: You need to sell! You need to scale! You need to produce more! Is there even a market for what you create? Your art is nice, but don't you want to consider a real job?
The questions go on and on and on.
I have grown so accustomed to them that I can smile them away. Perhaps this is because people have been asking me the same kinds of questions my entire life, beginning when I was only five years old. Had my parents not been so supportive, continually encouraging my creativity, I fear I might have believed what the outside world kept telling me: that art is useless, and that pursuing it is not worthwhile. Thank God I did not listen!
You see, I am at a particular stage in my life, one I like to think of as late spring and early summer. I know the value art brings to my life, and I know that I need to create in order to make sense of the world around me. There is no other way but to create.
I see it as simply as this: everything we see has been created. We are evidence of creation, not merely consumption. To create is a natural instinct, one we all long to fulfil in one way or another.
So when people ask me these questions ~ and believe me, they are almost always delivered with a degree of condescension or passive aggression ~ I feel a certain compassion and empathy. I wonder whether they have yet discovered what their own imagination might offer them.
On the other hand, there are those who understand the value of an artist. They understand how art can help us navigate what we might otherwise be too afraid to put into words, and they recognize that it deserves to be encouraged.
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There is an important distinction that needs to be said aloud: yes, I create because I need it for my sanity, my sense of worth and my personal fullfilment. But this does not mean I should be grateful for an opportunity that requires me to give away the very treasure of my heart for free. Supporting art must stop being treated as charity.
I have come to realize that people recognize the value of my work, yet I am still expected to accept almost every offer and opportunity, regardless of what it asks of me or what it gives in return. Visibility is so often presented as compensation in itself.
These invitations have arrived with remarkable regularity: major fashion events, red carpets, celebrity placements, international music and film productions in Hollywood, prestigious artist residencies, press coverage and delegation trips. In all honesty, almost everything you could imagine.
It sounds glamorous, I know. But then comes the catch.
“An A-list celebrity wants to wear your piece to the Met Gala. We need it customised, for free, and expect you in New York next week for a fitting. No, unfortunately, there is no budget. Any designer would jump at this opportunity!”
“You have been selected to represent your country on another continent. Congratulations! We will cover a fraction of your travel expenses; the rest is up to you.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot cover your shipping costs, even though we need your garments, plus five alternatives, in Los Angeles tomorrow for a huge magazine cover. I wouldn't say no if I were you. I have the connections you need in this industry!”
“Yes, we photographed four of your garments, each of which took you months to create, for a test shoot. Everyone is allowed to use the images. If you want to use them yourself, however, you will need to pay a licensing fee.”
Honestly, it gets worse. The list seems endless.
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Those who know me know that I turn these kinds of “offers” down, perhaps because I value and respect my work more highly than the promise of short-term success. Those who have worked with me know that I only pursue what I believe will create lasting value.
I believe this distinction matters. In the long run, it may be what separates an artistic practice built on conviction from one driven primarily by the pursuit of fame and fortune. There is nothing inherently wrong with the latter; it simply does not resonate with me.
Deep down, I know that the purpose of my life is to create.
To create without fear.
To create when I am tired.
To create simply because I feel like it.
To create as evidence that, once upon a time, there was an artist named Chelsea who loved nothing more than to surround herself with art and immerse herself in her own creativity.
I create because creating is the purest form of honesty I know.
I create because this is how I protect my mental health.
I create because I cannot imagine a world without creativity.
I create as an act of resistance.
I create to demonstrate what human creativity can achieve.
I create for the dreamers, and to invite them to create, too.
I create because, when I approach the winter of my life, I want to be surrounded by the work I have made with my own hands.
I create because it is the most meaningful gift I can offer back to God.
I create because I need to.