The Artist’s Paradox: Selling, Sharing, and Creating for Its Own Sake

I came across a post the other day by an artist and writer on Instagram named Amie McNee that stopped me in my tracks. She wrote about how, as an artist, you’re in this strange no-man’s land whether you sell your work or you don’t. If you don’t sell it, it’s seen as, “Oh, what a nice little hobby.” But if you do sell it, there’s a different kind of judgment: “Oh, is this still authentic? Are you selling out?” It’s like no matter what you choose, there’s this unspoken question of whether you’re doing it the “right” way.

Reading that, I couldn’t help but laugh because—wow—it hit close to home. It got me thinking about my own journey with deciding to sell my art. For the longest time, I wasn’t selling anything. I was just creating because I felt like it, because it brought me joy, and because, let’s face it, I would probably explode if I didn’t have some kind of outlet for all the ideas bouncing around in my head.

But then the more I created, the more people started asking, “Are these for sale?” At first, I wasn’t sure how to answer that. It felt good knowing someone might actually want my work in their home—like something I made could brighten someone’s day or become part of their life for years to come. That’s a pretty incredible feeling. So eventually, I thought, “Why not?” If my art can bring joy to someone else, I might as well put it out there.

And yet, once you start selling, it gets…weird. There’s something inherently vulnerable about it, like you’re marketing your soul. You spend all this time pouring yourself into something, and then suddenly it’s out in the world with a price tag on it. It feels a little awkward—like, “Here’s a piece of my heart, now let’s talk numbers.”

At the same time, if I’m putting my work out there, of course I want it to connect with people—and yes, I want it to be successful. But that’s not the point of why I create. Whether or not I ever sell another piece, I’ll keep making art because it’s just who I am. The act of creating is where the real magic is—the healing, the self-discovery, the joy of seeing an idea come to life.

I think what I’m learning is that it’s okay to sit in this paradox. It’s okay to love the idea of sharing your work and still feel a little awkward about the whole selling part. It’s okay to want your art to succeed while staying true to the deeper reasons you create. And it’s okay to laugh at how complicated and messy it all feels because, honestly, that’s just part of being an artist.

Amie McNee also said something about how society doesn’t expect us to monetize other ways we heal ourselves—like exercise or meditation—but art somehow falls into this odd category where people don’t quite know what to do with it. Are you just playing? Are you “serious”? For me, art is all of those things: it’s play, it’s serious, it’s healing, and it’s a gift I want to share.

So, here I am—selling my prints, preparing to share some new originals, and still figuring it all out. And honestly, I think that’s the beauty of it. Creating is messy and weird and vulnerable, but it’s also wonderful. Whether it resonates with one person, a few, or many, I’m just grateful I get to do it.