Written by: Kiana Arnall

@kianarephoto | kianare.substack.comkianarephoto.com



Truth: it is hard to be a creative when it feels like the world is burning down around us and AI is taking over our jobs. It has felt increasingly hard for me to market, create, or truly enjoy anything; all of it makes me feel guilty, like I don’t have the right to share/make/experience beautiful things when there is so much going on, so much “real life” to tend to. I know I am not the only one in this boat, and I can feel myself nodding fervently in agreement every time I hear similar words spill out of the mouths of other creatives. As if being a career artist wasn’t scary enough in the first place, we’re now up against a recession and an increasingly saturated market, making the work we do feel extra frivolous. What gives? This work that at one time felt instinctive and indispensable begins to feel optional, or worse, indulgent. 


All of us, including myself, will experience these inklings (or floods) of doubt when it comes to the legitimacy of a career in art, or even a hobby in art, and that isn’t something to feel ashamed of; we’ve been trained to think this way. Creativity has turned into something that must constantly justify its place within a capitalist society. We measure value by usefulness, speed, and cost, and gravitate toward things that are quickly produced and cheap enough to stomach. And as most photographers will agree, beautiful galleries are rarely produced quickly or cheaply.


How could someone possibly prioritize--and even monetize--something as trivial as art when all of THIS--gestures widely--is going on around us?


But I’m going to play devil’s advocate for just a second: how could you not?


I spent over three months in a creative rut before finally realizing it was less of a rut and more of a clog. There was so much creative energy bubbling inside of me all of the time and such a deep, desperate desire to yell at everyone I knew-- “I want you to make art, too, and share it with the world!”. I cannot stress enough how earnestly I continue to feel about the importance of creativity right now. It literally brings me to tears to watch people dance, paint, write, sing, crochet, and of course, witness and document other human beings. In the midst of all of this--gestures widely again--I see a twinkle of hope in all of the people who continue to create, even when it is so easy to shut down and tend only to the things that are objectively and practically important, or quickly and cheaply created.


The work we do as photographers is so painstakingly important for both ourselves and our clients. Every human we have the privilege of documenting shapes the way we connect with our communities, and every gallery we send is a chance for someone to feel seen through caring eyes. It becomes a part of how we view our world.


Art is not frivolous and taking the time to create is not naive; both are a grounding and hopeful part of how we will endure in these harder seasons. And so, despite the awkwardness of being a creative business in this day and age, I hope we remember the honor that it is to document joy, to create tangible proof for our clients that they loved hard and remained tender.

Kiana Re' Arnall is a family photographer and writer residing in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two toddlers. She is particularly drawn to documenting the messy, tender moments that make up real life. Through her Substack, The Well-Fed Artist, she rejects the "starving artist" narrative and explores how creatives can build sustainable, supported lives while continuing to create heart-led work.