In a previous post, I briefly discussed what it means to be a “professional artist.” After spending more time thinking about it and looking into interviews with well-known artists, my perspective has changed quite significantly. In this post, I want to reconsider, more realistically, what kind of life an artist can live.
When the reality of life confronts an artist, the first thing we inevitably think about is money. In reality, only a small number of artists are able to sustain their lives solely through their artistic practice. This challenge feels even greater for artists working with sound installations compared to, for example, painters, as it is inherently more difficult to sell such works. This raises the question: how can sound artists sustain their lives?
The most ideal scenario would be to earn income through exhibitions or performances. However, since this path is not accessible to everyone, I want to set that aside and consider other possibilities. Broadly speaking, there seem to be two approaches. The first is to increase the accessibility or commercial viability of one’s work so that it can function as a product. The second is to exclude the necessity of financial return from artistic practice itself and instead support one’s life through other forms of work.
A compelling example for the first approach is Ryoji Ikeda. He produces a wide range of works, from micro-sound-based music to data-driven audiovisual installations. I first encountered his work through the album dataplex, which consists of processed electronic sounds ranging from extremely short pulses to sustained noise textures. At that time, I considered him primarily an experimental electronic musician. However, after seeing his exhibition in Gwangju, my perspective shifted.
While I would not say that his practice perfectly aligns with the first approach, I find his method of engaging audiences across multiple formats—live performances, exhibitions, and recorded works—particularly effective. Rather than confining his ideas to a single medium, he presents them through various forms. In that sense, this flexibility can be understood as a form of artistic strategy or even marketing.
That said, I present this example partly because I do not necessarily want to fully adopt this first approach. If I were to follow it, it would be less about making my work more commercial, and more about expanding the ways in which it is presented, in order to reach different audiences. However, for this to work, it requires continuous production, consistency, and a strong sense of artistic identity. In other words, it demands sustained effort and clarity of direction.
The second approach—supporting one’s life through other work—feels closer to the path I may take. This is not purely for financial reasons, but also because it aligns with another aspiration of mine: teaching. I have mentioned this briefly in my Career Development Series. Even if not as a professor, I would like to teach students in Korea who are interested in sound art, helping them to understand what they truly want to pursue and how they might shape their own practice. If such an opportunity were available, I believe it could also provide a stable source of income.
This is also one of the reasons why I am considering pursuing a Master’s degree and potentially a PhD. While academic qualifications are not everything, such positions are often given to those with extended academic experience. At the same time, I have noticed my own growth year by year, which makes me want to continue expanding my input and learning further.
Ultimately, I may end up engaging with both of these approaches. However, this is not something I need to decide immediately. For now, my priority is to focus on what is directly in front of me. Through that process, my direction may evolve, and new opportunities may emerge. With that in mind, I will treat these ideas as long-term possibilities, open to change as my situation develops.