The Versatile Master Artist

Since World War II, the gallery has represented just over three hundred artists.

In the last decade alone, nearly two hundred have been signed. Hanks doesn’t mind signing one more person for the gallery; it shows his seriousness.

”Well, if my nephew is signed, how much can he earn for us in a month?” The aunt couldn’t hold back anymore and stretched her neck to ask.

The aunt is an accountant and isn’t familiar with Ma Shi Gallery. Listening in, she roughly understands that this gallery seems quite impressive.

”Ma Shi provides a stipend to its artists, typically issuing a check for the next year’s stipend at Christmas, but monthly payments are also an option if you prefer.”

Hanks thought for a moment and raised a finger.

”For this trip, I specifically applied for a creation stipend, which can amount to ten thousand dollars a year.”

The aunt was dumbfounded.

”He’s still a student, right? You give him ten thousand dollars... per year! You’re not con artists, are you?”

The middle-aged woman grinned, in complete disbelief.

In Yangon, the purchasing power of the US dollar is very strong; an ordinary person can cover their daily living expenses of food, clothing, and housing with two dollars a day.

The consumption level in Myanmar is equivalent to the late 1980s in China; those who cannot earn five dollars a day from casual labor are plenty.

An annual income of ten thousand dollars, and it’s pure foreign exchange, is already at the level of a local mid-level manager in multinational companies.

This surpasses the local average GDP by seven to ten times.

In times when business isn’t easy, their family may not even save up ten thousand dollars in a year.

Now someone runs over with what’s equivalent to a year’s profit from a whole painting shop to sign her nephew, who’s still in school.

The aunt thinks the world has gone mad.

Hanks smiled.

He absolutely loves the petty demeanor of this middle-aged woman.

Even a landlord’s family doesn’t have surplus grain.

Ma Shi Gallery has tens of millions of dollars in annual revenue, but that doesn’t mean a few thousand dollars isn’t important.

Spend when necessary, save when necessary.

It’s not just about money; gallery owners actually don’t like their artists being too wealthy. Otherwise, they’ll become lazy.

In Hanks’ eyes,

The ideal creative environment for an artist is when the painter’s parents are in ICU, kids are in private school, there’s three ex-wives outside demanding alimony like death specters every month.

Thus, they have no choice but to lock themselves in a small dark room, drinking cold water, gnawing on dry food, holding a paintbrush and frantically painting.

Want money,

Exchange talent for it!

Without the economic pressure whipping from behind, those well-off in the art circle lack the motivation to grind.

Balzac, Flaubert, Picasso and the like spent their money on wild outings, gambling, and flirting leisurely with little rich ladies. Staring at mounting debts forced them to obediently buckle down and write or paint.

The reason why Balzac was so prolific, producing a large number of works in his lifetime, is because every story behind it is about owing money and being hounded by publishers and even loan sharks to write.

In the art industry, galleries have been paying salaries and stipends to artists to prevent them from starving on the streets, a trendy concept only in the last century or so.

The French nobleman, Paul Durand-Ruel, reputed as the ancestor of modern galleries, did this because he felt Impressionist artists were oppressed and lived too miserably, nearly starving every three days, so he kindly decided to periodically give money to artists to maintain their creative state.

Before then,

If you don’t work hard and fail to sell your works as a painter, you deserved to starve.

During the Renaissance, many artists worked tirelessly day and night for months, painting dozens to hundreds of square meters of cathedral ceilings, not because they were devout but for one word: poverty.