A great friend of mine gave me a book I really wanted for my birthday – ‘What Art Does‘ by Brian Eno and Bette A.
Before I even started reading it, the book inspired me to try to answer its central question from my own perspective. That, in turn, led me to write a short confessional story about Mycelium and what it means in my life and for my future.
So, what does art do, as I see it?
For me personally, it’s the most natural way of processing events and expressing my feelings and thoughts about them. It feels like a kind of therapy thought out by the universe itself. And it seems to follow the same logic as nature – the more that comes in, the more it needs to flow out. When things become chaotic, I can only respond by slipping deeper into a creative mode. Yes, it’s escapism. And yes, I accept and submit to it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be here.
Art is a parallel reality for me, whether I’m experiencing it or creating it. In that reality, feelings and bravery are valued – unlike in the one we all live in, where indifference, lies, greed, and aggression often take over. Only art can remind us of the eternal, important things that transcend the mundane.
I sometimes try to visualize a world abandoned by art.
The world is stripped down to pure function, every structure built only for use, never for beauty. Walls are bare, colors muted into endless shades of gray, as if imagination itself had been drained from the air. Music does not exist, and silence feels heavy rather than peaceful, broken only by necessary sounds. Language has lost metaphor, reduced to plain instructions and facts, leaving no room for wonder or expression. Without art, even memory feels thinner, as if nothing is worth remembering beyond survival.
It’s painful to imagine such a world, and I hope we never end up there. But let’s be honest – art is becoming unsustainable for many artists trying to live from their work.
I know this because I’m one of them.
I have to admit that making a living from my art has become increasingly difficult. As a creator, it’s very easy to start searching for explanations in what I’ve done wrong. Imposter syndrome is always there to support your darkest fears. But in this case, the data shows something else: it’s not us – it’s the system that’s broken.
I’ve written many times about the flaws in the current systems around music (for example here & here) – unsustainable streaming models, the algorithmization of social networks, AI-generated muzak, and, of course, global economic inequality pushing people to cut spending on culture.
But I refuse to believe that honest, humane, underground art can’t be sustainable. I refuse to believe that people don’t need it or love it.
That’s why I created Mycelium. It’s my way of reclaiming power.
Do you have €2 a month to support me and the art I promote?
I wouldn’t ask if I could do it without you — but I can’t. I want to share a lot of beautiful and meaningful art with you, but to do that, I need to be able to pay my bills.
If you’re wondering where the money goes:
Right now, it helps me survive and keep building Mycelium — to have the time and space to create and curate meaningful work.
But this isn’t just about me. I want Mycelium to support other artists too. As it grows, I’ll start paying contributors.
And once it becomes sustainable, everything beyond basic costs will be shared equally between the artists involved.
That’s the goal: not just to survive, but to build something fair.
Are you in?
* photos by July Space