John Garner dissects the complexities of artistry and creativity within the contemporary socio-economic model.

In Alexander Avila’s recent video essay ‘How Corporations Hijacked Anti-AI Backlash’, he discusses how, during the Middle Ages, there began a gradual shift away from an understanding of the artist as anonymous worker serving society through the preservation of crafts, toward an artist who was individualised, respected, and admired for their singular vision and technical prowess (Avila, 2025, 2:10:27). Although I was aware of this fundamental transformation, the explanation given by Avila for the initiatory factor came as a total surprise. Rather than seeking to recognise and elevate the genius of ‘great men’ (women have consistently been rather less likely to be pedestalled), it was in order to punish heresy that it became necessary to individuate thinkers and artists. Avila uses the example of Galileo spreading the Copernican theory of heliocentrism. If Galileo wasn’t named as the author, he could not be tried as a heretic and imprisoned. These early rumblings of individualism were, therefore, rooted more in the desire to maintain hegemonic control than the celebration of unique excellence. How far have we come in the centuries between? 

Although it might be tempting to take a cursory glance at the state of the arts today and claim that we’ve transcended these fascistic origins to instead arrive at a meritocratic wonderland which nurtures and supports that rarest of creatures, the artistic genius, I would argue that we are just as much in thrall to the hegemony as Galileo all those years ago; only now, we wear different chains and we unwittingly police the power structures ourselves, obviating the need for more visible modes of control. To have any hope of shaping an artistic ecosystem which prioritises collective empowerment over individual aggrandisement, which resists naturalised and oppressive hierarchical systems rather than reinforcing them, what is needed, first and foremost, is a profound psychological shift. 

Let’s first consider the prevailing narratives as propagated by the present-day music industry*. When I was a teenager, there was a huge surge in the popularity of TV programmes such as American Idol, The X Factor UK, and Britain’s Got Talent. On the surface, these shows opened a pathway to stardom for deserving individuals who otherwise would have remained forever below the radar. Indeed, many talented artists have been given their start in the business through this route. What I wish to draw attention to is not the relative merits of the people who thereby rose to fame (or notoriety), but rather the underlying messaging purveyed through the format of these programmes and the wider structures of which they form a small, but significant, part. 

These shows are, of course, competitions. Although runners-up may go on to enjoy commercial success (usually brief) in their own right, the prize pot is typically reserved for the winner. In the case of The X Factor UK, this included a record deal (itself a problematic contract in which artists are frequently exploited, extorted, and left for broke after an initial period of glamour, but we’ll leave that aside). Right out of the gate, we’ve therefore established the idea that competition is part and parcel of artistry, and that the appropriate structure within which artists must exist is that of a pyramid, a small pool of the most talented residing at the top whilst the rest of us clamber desperately for a seat at the table. In the context of such programmes, the supposed arbiters of value are, initially, the panel (presented as neutral experts notable for their ability to spot talent and to nurture artists to maturity); later, the audience, via democratic voting. All of this, however, exists within the context of a mainstream media machine which is itself a product of late-stage capitalism and functions according to its logics, dictates, and demands. While at first glance we appear to be offered simple game shows which boost the arts via straightforward meritocratic and democratic systems, there are a million factors, hidden from sight and mind, which play a central role in all aspects of this celebrity production line. 

For the purposes of my argument, what is important to remember is the narrative sold by the format of these programmes. Talent is primary; it is in short supply; it can be located and elevated through competition; the deserving few will naturally rise to the top; abundant wealth is justifiably reserved for these godly figures. Aspirational artists are conditioned to assess and shape their practice accordingly. I will refer to this as the pyramidal narrative. 

This is not intended as an attack on talent shows or competition. Both have their place and have enriched our cultural and social lives through time. Without talent shows we may never have heard the name Ella Fitzgerald, and cutting contests were par for the course in jazz’s golden age, pushing communities of innovative musicians to new heights. When the need to come out on top becomes the primary focus, however, the entire culture of music-making shifts, in my opinion, not in the direction of liberation. 

Ideas about what art is are in constant flux, generated always anew according to cultural, social, and political realities. No one has a monopoly on defining artistic creation. This does not mean that we oughtn’t to interrogate the foundations of those ideas and challenge them where we see fit. This ongoing debate is itself a fertile zone of thought and dialogue, helping us to bring into sharper focus the reasons for which we feel driven to express ourselves and communicate through art and music. In this spirit, I would like to identify, in brief, a few areas in which I would argue that the pyramidal narrative cultivates a profoundly problematic understanding of art, creating conditions which are deeply damaging to artists and non-artists alike (I do not like this binary, but we will let it stand for now). 

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The pyramid engenders hyper-individualism

For this narrative to function, people must be conditioned to understand success as largely the outcome of individual hard work and talent. When viewed this way, it is right and proper that a select few manage to make significant commercial gains. Those who find themselves at the top of the ladder are unlikely to want to dismantle the foundations of their prosperity; knowingly or unknowingly, they will have made certain choices along the way which pander to the demands of the industry moguls who have deigned to champion them (those who do begin to rock the boat are routinely crushed through contractual and reputational means). As for the rest of us, if we have swallowed the narrative pill, we will look on in awe or envy, eager to learn from these unique talents, to put their lessons into practice in our own quest for ennoblement. 

What is lost here is the entangled nature of learning and creativity. No person is an island. While the archetype of the lone genius may be compelling, it is also bleak, for what is creativity if not a jewel at the centre of a vast web of relations and experiences. Although we each inhabit a different spot, the web is shared, co-created, interconnected, ever evolving, and eternal. In the hyper-individualistic story of the pyramid, pride is only to be found in occupying prime position; in the rhizomatic story of the web, the distributed nature of creativity allows us to celebrate collectivity, to understand our contribution, no matter how big or small, as a significant one, to remain open to different ways of working without fixed outcomes. 

In a recent essay, Dharma teacher Thanissara describes this same dichotomy, but situates it within a wider context, illustrating how much is at stake: 

‘What is vital about this moment is that we need to reclaim our power as citizens, recalibrating our orientation to a different drumbeat. [The] empire is hollow and without spirit or soul. While our power is rooted in the soil, in song, in remembering, in storykeeping… We belong together in this sacred web of life, born from the ancient mists of time… [W]e are writing a different story, woven in spirit, breath, and belonging. So let our remembering rise like firelight across the land. Let it call the others home. This is our vow–to remember, to resist, to rise. Breath by breath. Step by step. All of us, doing what we can, not as solo heroes.’ (Thanissara, 2025)

The pyramid demands self-commodification

In order to envision yourself at the top of the pyramid, you have to understand yourself as a product and make decisions accordingly. Creativity is viewed not as a complex and ongoing processual interplay of infinite parts, but something finite that generates saleable units. This logic becomes extended to the artist themself, who becomes nothing more than a brand. The more you mould your practice according to external expectations and commercial prerequisites, the more creativity starts to look like work and less like exploration, discovery, relation. Artists operate according to briefs rather than questions, venturing not into the unknown but remaining firmly in the safely monetisable familiar, and increasingly do so alone. Ironically, the more we try to broadcast a clear and consistent brand, the less of ourselves we find in our output, which becomes instead a Narcissan mirror to society. 

The Dalai Lama believes that ‘the only measure of a work of art is how much it changes the artist’ (Dalai Lama as cited in Shaheen, 2025, 20:32). I would extend this to include how much it changes the community and the landscape in which it sits. When you put yourself on the merch table, you fix yourself in place, committing to stasis in the name of commerce, perpetuating a climate in which people’s choices and outlook are defined and restricted by the naturalised dichotomy of producer/consumer. In this way, the apparent fluidity and incessancy of consumer economics belies its frozen and stagnant bedrock. 

Cultural critic Lewis Hyde frames this dichotomy as one of gift vs commodity: 

‘We might best picture the difference between gifts and commodities… by imagining two territories separated by a boundary. A gift, when it moves across the boundary, either stops being a gift or else abolishes the boundary. A commodity can cross the line without any change in its nature; moreover, its exchange will often establish a boundary where none previously existed (as, for example, in the sale of a necessity to a friend).’ (Hyde & Atwood, 2012, p. 63)

While art can be the greatest of gifts, if we follow Hyde’s logic, we have found ourselves at a point where our artistic practice often erects boundaries, rather than dismantling them; where art becomes one more bolster of our separation, rather than a path to collective liberation. This is ultimately unsustainable, as ‘[a]nything contained within a boundary must contain as well its own exhaustion’ (Ibid., p. 20). 

The pyramid creates imagined barriers to creative agency†

The power of celebrity is nourished by the illusion of scarcity. Artistic talent, we are told, is in short supply—only a few individuals have it. These individuals deserve everything they get, the adoration, riches, power, luxury, respect, creative fulfilment. Others can, and should, only dream of such talent, such abundance. Through insidious messaging, we are constantly told that we are less than, a feeling that, once internalised, may be expressed in two primary ways: resigned acceptance of our menial hierarchical position and recognition of our inadequacy, or frantic pursuit of personal elevation through consumerism. 

The latter is in line with the general thrust of this essay, leading as it does to ideas of artistry rooted in competition, acquisition, and attainment. The former functions to disempower. If creativity is shown to be the domain of the rare genius, such a treasure as to be worth being showered with glory, then people are just as likely to turn away from their creative impulse as to feel inspired to explore it. As the number of people who spend time developing their artistry therefore diminishes, the pyramidal narrative is correspondingly endowed with greater legitimacy, over time further naturalising an unjust and ultimately ruinous hegemony. With ever-increasing attention and resources funnelled into the machinery of musical celebrity, the economic impacts are felt in grassroots movements, community initiatives, and arts education. 

The pyramid conjures a zero-sum situation

In disseminating the myth that creativity is the purview of the chosen few, thereby justifying structures which siphon money into the pockets of industry magnates, the vast majority of artists are left to fight amongst themselves for scraps from the table. Funding bodies, jobs in the arts, venues, independent record labels, and so on, are all vastly oversubscribed. As the infrastructure grows increasingly strained, even the most seasoned of artists are squeezed. Following a now familiar pattern, people become willing to work for lower fees, creating a culture of undercutting and a race to the bottom. Younger artists enter an industry in which they must compete not only with their peers, but also with their predecessors and teachers. 

Under such conditions, it becomes almost impossible to work in a spirit of generosity, humility, and interconnection, all of which are, in my opinion, at the heart of creativity. Instead, artistry becomes yet another victim of corporate greed, an emaciated caricature just barely sustained by a creaking body of underpaid, under-resourced, and disrespected workers expected to generate endless content, unable to speak their truth, to find their voice, together or alone. The solution, we are told, is to earn a seat at the table, but those seats are few. Only through dispelling the power of the pyramidal narrative can we hope to rejuvenate the artistic ecosystem and reimbibe it with the spirit of collective growth and liberation. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________

For most artists, the pyramidal narrative signifies a lose-lose situation. Whether your practice kowtows to the conditions of the music industry or not, the likelihood is that creative, professional, and economic freedom feel increasingly alien and out of reach. This being the case, much of the energy wasted in attempting to climb the ladder in a business model that doesn’t need you or want you—and in which those very attempts are often cynically exploited and capitalised upon—could be better spent building alternatives. 

There is no shortage of examples from which we can take inspiration. The AACM has for decades demonstrated an ironclad commitment to community, creative integrity and ingenuity, and social justice, achieving an impressive degree of self-sufficiency after refusing to pander to the grossly unfair and racist practices of the music business. International music co-operative Catalytic Sound, currently limited to 33 artists, has created its own platform which functions as streaming service (with equal payouts not tied to stream numbers), record store, discographic archive, and form of sponsorship for members. Established in anticipation of the corporate enshittification of Bandcamp and similar services, Subvert is a nascent co-operative, bringing together artists, labels, and supporters as owner-members, which will function as ‘an online marketplace where artists and labels can sell music and merchandise directly to their supporters’  (Subvert Cooperative, n.d.). The service will ‘be structured to be owned and controlled by the communities they serve’ (Ibid.). 

None of these three examples set as their goal the lionisation of any individual. Instead, they aim to pave the way for collective success and artistic freedom. Written in the subtext of these efforts is an understanding that creativity isn’t measured by commercial success, isn’t about personal aggrandisement. Creativity is what happens when people have the space, time, and resources to pursue their curiosity and interbeing, and can move within a flourishing ecosystem of likeminded artists. Creativity is a collective project of universal liberation, wherein all should be uplifted together. As pioneering jazz musician Ornette Coleman exhorted, ‘[w]hat you must try to do is bring the ones who are down up to the level of what you believe it could be for everybody’ (Coleman as cited in Taylor, 1993, p. 39). 

Shaking off the hegemonic chains embedded in our artistic lives requires nothing short of a process of de-conditioning, an awakening from a shared nightmare. Writing in The Quietus, Wallace succinctly draws our attention to several of the vital roles played by musicians: 

‘They’ve articulated thoughts that need to be heard. They’ve drawn our attention to injustices in the world just as they’ve highlighted the beauty of life. They have helped bring together communities and given them a common voice. They have spoken out and stood up for their principles, demanded change and sometimes achieved it.’ (Wallace, 2011).

If we aren’t able to deconstruct the pyramidal narrative, not only do we stand to lose touch with our abundant wellspring of creativity, but we also risk creating a world ‘where most musicians simply can’t afford to exist from their work, [leaving] the ones who do exactly what they’re told thanks to the promise of fame and fortune’ (Ibid.). 

It would be disingenuous to claim that modern life as an artist doesn’t necessitate compromise. Our basic needs must be met, and that requires money. This essay isn’t intended as a totalitarian manifesto for self-destructive purism. We can, however, endeavour to be mindful in the compromises that we have to make; perhaps there are more options than we have typically considered, with certain paths (which may ask more of us) offering at least a glimmer of resistance alongside economic and professional security. If we are vigilant, such compromises need not further the insidious internalisation of problematic narratives. If worst comes to worst and we are forced to engage in ways and spaces that feel hopeless, can we redress the balance by taking positive action elsewhere? 

Let us be together affirmed in our commitment to and belief in the communality of artistic expression and growth. Let us be united in our struggle to resist and emerge from the corrosive fictions of the music industry and broader capitalist systems. Let us practise what poet Nisha Ramayya calls wilfulness, ‘a collecting together, of those struggling for a different ground for existence’ (Ramayya, 2019, p. 9). Let us find our joy in each other’s awakening. 

* I’ll be focussing on music as it’s my personal point of reference, but the issues considered apply more broadly. 

†Thanks to Kaila Moyers, who raised this point during a recent conversation.

References

Avila, A. (2025, May 02). How Corporations Hijacked Anti-AI Backlash [Video]. Retrieved July 09, 2025, from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRq0pESKJgg

Hyde, L., & Atwood, M. (2012). The Gift: How the Creative Spirit Transforms the World. Edinburgh: Canongate Books.

Ramayya, N. (2019). States of the Body Produced By Love. Great Britain: Ignota.

Ruhl, S., & Shaheen, S. (2025, July 19). Forever a Student [Audio podcast episode]. In Tricycle Talks. Tricycle: The Buddhist Review. Tricycle Talks. Retrieved July 19, 2025, from  https://tricycle.org/podcast/sarah-ruhl-teachers/

Subvert Cooperative. (n.d.). About. Retrieved Jul5 24, 2025, from Subvert: https://subvert.fm/docs/

Taylor, A. (1993). Note and tones: musician-to-musician interviews (Expanded ed., 1st Da Capo Press ed.). New York: Da Capo Press.

Thanissara. (2025, July 18). When the Center Cannot Hold, the Storykeepers Must. Retrieved July 19, 2025, from Substack: https://thanissara.substack.com/p/when-the-center-cannot-hold-the-storykeepers

Wallace, W. (2011, May 24). How The Music Industry Is Killing Music And Blaming The Fans. Retrieved October 29, 2023, from The Quietus: https://thequietus.com/opinion-and-essays/black-sky-thinking/how-the-music-industry-is-killing-music-and-blaming-the-fans/