After graduating, this experience, in combination with a perceived lack of opportunities for emerging artists, pushed me to set up the Artist Book by SU4IP series. Seven editions of this, and three years later, I’m three instalments into what is now its spiritual successor, Wiro Mag. I am in an incredibly privileged position to create these projects, select from a large pool of amazingly talented and thoughtful artists, and curate their work in every edition, receiving a small amount of money for my efforts.

Unlike most curators, I get a really unique perspective on contemporary art. Museums, galleries, and art events are not my natural habitat. When I’m not working a full-time retail job, I’m at home designing books, making art a small handful of people will see, and sorting through submissions for my open calls. I get to see the next best artist before your local, regional, or national gallery does, often having the pleasure of speaking with them about their lives, interests, hobbies, and sometimes even their work before they are famous enough to have their assistant turn me away. I bring my copies of my work to book fairs around the UK, or I hold and talk about them in front of a camera. Engaging with so many up-and-coming creatives in this way is hugely stimulating for me, the featured artists, and our respective practices, which, without the internet, would be impossible. We feed each other's sensibility, develop our understandings, and build bridges across time zones. I am continuing to develop a delicate network of artists, following their practices as they go on to take their proof of involvement to support more ambitious future endeavours. I take great pride in the knowledge I made a small impact.

What I’ve learnt from my experiences working in this way is perhaps less prevalent. Firstly, artists hollow out their own spaces in society. Bars, cafes, museums, shops, councils, etc., employ artists on what is usually a part-time basis, most likely in a job that has little or nothing to do with their art or their artistic pursuits. These unlikely and entirely uncreative workplaces feed their practices in ways that no art theory can, distract them from creative struggles no therapist will, and encourage a desire to be at home making like no motivational YouTube video should. Many artists I meet, or have come to know, aren’t funding their practice through the sale of their work; they are finding ways to do it, irrespective of financial metrics, because it’s what they want to spend as much time as possible making art.

Success is starting. Everyone I speak to featuring in my book projects is there for one reason: they made the work. It didn’t matter how long it took, what other commitments they had, or even how much interest it generated. They found a way. This can’t be said for most people, whose creative desires are often postponed, excused, or outright substituted in favour of less impactful low-effort alternatives. There is so much merit to people who can reliably create unique, interesting, and impressive art, to the extent that anything thereafter is merely a bonus.

As a result, artists rarely define economic prosperity as a metric of success, which is overwhelmingly prevalent within most professions. On the other hand, this puts art at an interesting crossroads: it is unlike other jobs, in respect to a distinctive lack of mutual success drivers, yet, still clamouring to be put in the same conversation as more conventional career paths. The important thing to distinguish here is the why. Pursuing any occupation is, in the minds of most, more fulfilling when motivated by a desire to maintain a passion, make a positive difference, or enhance the experiences of others. This is what I believe validates art to be accepted as a conventional career aspiration, as it shares this trait with all comparable endeavours.

Art isn’t happening where you expect. What we see in murals, billboards, galleries, forearms, screensavers, and blockchains is a tiny amount of what art is. You see only what creatives choose to show, which is often constrained by monetary viability, public perception, social anxieties, or client demands. Art is nonverbal communication that informs every aspect of our lives, often with little reward or recognition. Artists may pour themselves into an idea that will never be seen or elevated to its true potential. I take the idea of the Dead Poets Society very seriously; art is one of the few things that makes other professions with doing, and life worth living.

As of writing, Wiro Mag: Care, the third instalment of the Wiro Mag series, is available to view, explore, and purchase via su4ip.cargo.site, the destination for my more polished and refined creative endeavours. If you would like to learn more about me, what I do, or how to get in touch, my Instagram, @lyndonwatkinson, is probably the best place to go. Here you’ll find me talking about my books, sharing my activities, and producing art.