How selfish to just be a consumer and consume things—Things other people created. How about you create something and add to society?  

With art, the problem is that it might not add to society (yet). There’s so much art, and we only need divinity. Divine art adds to society and enlivens life. Dull art is waste. But dull art brings the artist closer to divinity. Dull art is a purge of the old in transformation of the new—Trial by fire. 

The past falling off the artist to create from an empty canvas. To paint with the soul, not from past input. To create with God and the angels, and not paint through the curtain of ego/past/identity. To paint freedom, not death, and then spread freedom. That’s the value of art. 

Artists don't make money because they spread their prisons instead of freeing ppl from prisons. Break and invent taste. Challenge ppl; poke ‘em. Don't keep them safe in their boxes. Uprise, challenge, reform. Reformation and art go hand in hand. Art creates reform. Is what you do art?

Money comes naturally as an act of service. What does your art do? Who does it serve? No one? Then think again. Now your art serves your healing. Heal, then heal others. Your art heals you until the scales tip, and art heals the world. 

My words have purpose. They poke you, don’t they? So I serve you. That’s an example. Who do you serve? What does your art do? Is it vanilla? Is it safe and comfortable? Who do you offend? For you must offend, I tell you. Do people love you? Maybe go to the edges and scare yourself, drop some more of your coat of past, and end up making something revolutionary. Maybe heal some more.

Also. Artists don't understand the economics of business. To be able to serve the world, I need to be profitable to sustain myself and make ppl aware of my change! That’s business. Money comes naturally as a result of service (Henry Ford). Artists are entrepreneurs. Go read biographies and understand how ppl think that stand behind change and make change happen. Artists aren't paupers. Artists have to rise in intelligence and street smarts to go back to the golden age. Today, dying souls sing of death. 

Where are the Picassos and Davincis? We don’t need patrons, we need to rise and reclaim art. What is this begging for money when alive art enlivens the world? We forgot our part, maybe we forgot who we are. Who and who as artists. Alive work heals the world. It’s time we know the value of living work. And incalculable is the value of a living artist. Let’s wake up and create stuff worth having, tasting, owning, and paying for. 

Art is a product. Art has to be marketed. Art exists to make change happen. How can you make money from living art? First, come alive, then create something someone wants and charge for it. Maybe media or products around your thing, education or anything where healthy commerce sustains and btw, alive art is explosive and grows on its own. We just have not seen it in a while. Let's challenge the dimension of art and invent. In the Renaissance, explosive shifts happened. Art was an uproar, and what is it today? An act of hiding. We are hiding from ourselves. You don’t know the power of your soul—Self forgetfulness. Art breaks the old, invents the new, shifts in consciousness, represented in objects—Artefacts of change. We represent the awakening, the evolution of people coming alive. Come alive and take the world with you. 

There are two faces of God. Manifest-unmanifest and the artist, the bridge. Windows to God. Who are you? What do you represent? What do you create? You can only create what you are. Who are you?

Picasso invented cubism, or rather, cubism used him to come to life. Authentic soul-expression is art. Are we creating with God or from our egos? That’s a thought. Is our art alive or dead? Are we alive? How dare we call death art. Is what we create art at all? These are the questions we are to ask if we long for a renaissance. Let’s rise from the dead. Let's together figure this thing out. Just one strike or two and we uprise. Let's spark some life into the community. Or we remain artists without spines, marching fools in line to further rigidity and away from life.