Business vs. art

Currency, a home, an art medium — and future sand. (Image by Pexels)

Aimee Mann’s 1995 album I’m With Stupid closes with a truly beautiful, profane song called “It’s Not Safe.”

"All you want to do is something good,” she sings, “so get ready to be ridiculed and misunderstood.”

I rarely feel that cynical, but I often come back to that song to appreciate the solidarity. It helps to know that I’m not alone in feeling so alone sometimes.

When you create something — a piece of art, a business — it stands outside of you and therefore is open to judgement and criticism. There is a natural, inevitable process as others adopt your work as their own possession, for their own purposes, and have their own suggestions and recommendations to make. They might even want it to become something else, despite the fact that, presumably, they chose it because they thought it was what they were looking for.

Whatever compelled your audience, your customers, your students, or your colleagues to get on board with your vision begins to fade from memory as your contribution becomes the new standard. It’s both an incredible compliment and kind of a bummer.

When the Little Middle School added a recognition ceremony (the brainchild of the brilliant Shannon Vassell), we enjoyed beautiful moments of connection and created an opportunity for parents, students, and teachers to feel a sense of pride in the year’s accomplishments and a sense of closure. It also invited complaints from parents who were upset when their child did not receive an award.

I’m not saying I’m Bob Dylan going electric at the Newport Folk Festival — I’m just saying I can relate.

Over the years, it’s gotten easier to deal with the mismatch between someone’s expectations of me and what I’m able to deliver. I’ve learned to be more clear about what I stand for and to be okay with letting someone go when what I have isn’t for them.

But there is a difference between business and art. An artist’s job is to keep making things, to keep growing and transforming and challenging the status quo. In contrast, a successful business becomes the status quo. It ought to stick to one idea, developing it fully. It can’t just change based on the whims of the founder. If it does, it’s not a business.

That’s not to say that a business can’t change or innovate. But it has to do that in response to what the market wants, not in spite of it.

In business, I’ve had to learn that I shouldn’t mess with what’s working. However, I have a strong drive to create and try new things and play with what’s possible. And if I try to share those things with the people who want what I’ve already created, I’m going to wind up like the narrator in Aimee Mann’s song, disillusioned and tempted to withdraw. To reconcile this, I might have to find a new audience for the new thing.

I could tinker endlessly with my existing projects to try to make them fit the vision that I have now, in 2020, instead of where I was in 2008 or 2015. I used to do that a lot and drive everyone crazy. I’m learning to separate the businesswoman from the artist, finding new outlets for my creative energy.

The reasons for taking action in business are rational and justifiable. The reasons for taking action when it comes to art are not. Getting the two paths confused is exhausting and expensive — boy, have I learned this the hard way.

I’m at a crossroads right now, where I can no longer ignore the call to create something new. For the business ventures already in existence, I must take the steps to safeguard operations and ensure stability by completing the already strong and dedicated team. I’m grateful to be able to see this dynamic clearly now and to have guidance to navigate this process.

Once my role is replaced and things are running without me, I will be free to do whatever is next. Someday, my new venture — whatever it turns out to be — might be something worth sharing. But my feelings won’t be hurt if you don’t like it. Neither of us needs to be wrong.