As an avid reader of The Economist (maybe perpetually chasing the current issue is more accurate), I feel constantly discouraged by the statistics of unemployment.  Even the EU as a whole (see Eurostat’s extensive documentation) has struggled to maintain its relatively low unemployment percentages with the ongoing disintegration of the Euro.  Though worse for some countries (Norway and Austria) would be excellent for others (Spain and the eastern Balkan countries), this developed world sector illustrates the difficult recent times and the even more difficult times to come.  Visually we’re saturated with downsloping graphs, cartoons of giant Euro coins crushing Merkozy and photographs of the affected masses.  The media essentially dictates how we think (whether we realise or not; just ask any rhetoric major). The media rarely reports on the entrepreneurial spirit, and when it does it’s below the fold. So, we believe that the global economy is left to the hands of the the world banker, the policymaker and anyone but us.  While there is truth to what media says about multi-million dollar labour cuts, and the actions of those heavy hitters do affect us masses, there is a much larger force that can reinvigorate the economy before they’ll convince Angela Merkel to use Eurobonds—the creative market.  Artists (herein used as all-encompassing term for all creatives for simplicity of argument) can be the answer to tough times because of their resilience, ingenuity and sense of community.

When many people think of artisanal goods, they think of trinkets and tchotchkes sold at the weekend fair—hardly an economic competitor that can save the world of its debt, largely caused by war.  But this notion of art as excess is an antiquated falsehood that perpetuates misconceptions about how much art can fiscally contribute; at one time art was only for those rich enough to eat and bathe once a month.  Then art became for the dirty, drunk and poor.  Now, art is still one or both of those things, but art is more importantly, a commodity worth just as much as shale gas, corn and even oil.  Just look at the contemporary art market (see The Economist‘s “Bubbly Basel” article), which doesn’t just survive in Europe but expands despite the failing Euro.

Artists are able to work in difficult economic times first because they can work without currency.  Bartering agreements of work for work supersede the need to reconcile dollars versus pesos versus krona.  Messy calculations aside, this lack of currency allows both parties to value their commodity against something other than the intangible federal reserve note—valuation of art as ideas, materials and labour.  Creativity not only makes for good art, but it also makes for clever problem solvers.  The upward-hill battle to find inspiration and afford expensive tools (paint or Photoshop) builds someone who doesn’t give up in the face of financial adversity.  You can’t be a successful artist with out a sense of entrepreneurship.  In fact, most artists are self-employed, which means short of a Jekyll/Hyde crisis or drinking themselves into a stupor, there aren’t any labour cuts here.  In short, everyday is an artist’s recession; they’ll still be here whether the stock market is or not.

Lastly, because all artists are starving over-sexed commune residents, they share a great sense of community.  Before strangers buy, friends, family and colleagues are the first to shell out cash (or in the bartering case, business cards or a bed).  Community buying allows for money to stay in the family (one can extrapolate this as a microcosm to the way many unstable or newly-stable countries like to produce and keep their own goods in-house), certainly, but also is the vehicle on which to spread a name by word of mouth.  Members of a community talk about what they do and what they have.  Beyond support, creative communities can combine talents to create full-fledged services; microbusinesses like such create a more stable workflow for involved parties (and if one person’s sick, the whole operation isn’t placed on hold).  Communities of artists also pool together to create fairs, many of which become significant contributors to their neighbourhoods (think Argentine ferias).

So is it up to artists to save us from economic collapse?  Well no, because the math would be all wrong.  But more importantly, artists produce art.  Artists’ friends can only buy so much of that art (they are, after all, really poor).  So non-creatives need to help support artists—whenever possible.  Get a friend earrings from a street fair instead of some Made in Chinas from Target.  Have a designer make your business cards instead of ordering 5,000 crappy ones off of Vistaprint.  Find a reupholstered vintage couch instead of an impossible-to-assemble one from IKEA.  Buy flowers from your local flowershop instead of biologically creepy ones off FTD.  And artists—you need to remember to be a smart business person.  Know your audience, your market, your competition, and most importantly, the value of your art. Then don’t be afraid to sell it for what it’s really worth, whether that’s 5,000 krona, a custom-made bed or political cause.  Together, artist and consumer may not be the entire solution to the economic problems we face, but they sure can be a significant part.