The Great Mobilization of Quebec Artists will meet Wednesday afternoon, in front of the offices of Prime Minister François Legault. The goal? Increase the budget of the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec (CALQ) to $200 million. And ensure that this increase is reflected in the programs being created. But what is the life of an artist in Quebec today? Duty continues his financial portraits with a human face, this time focusing on the visual arts.
The income of visual arts artists is generally very fragmented, unpredictable and non-recurring, summarizes the general director of the Regroupement des artistes en arts nationaux du Québec (RAAV), Camille Cazin.
Whether they come from “sales of works, fees for exhibitions, copyrights, workshops, public or private commissions, subsidies, their income requires a lot of invisible, unpaid work, with no guarantee of success,” she said.
According to the RAAV, the situation has been getting worse for 15 years. In 2022, nearly a third of these artists lived below the poverty line. And many are feeling the repercussions of cutbacks affecting venues, artist centers or regional museums, which in turn reduce paid exhibition opportunities.
Visual arts require materials. A workshop is often necessary for painting, sculpture, textiles, and even performance. The explosion of costs affects all of these elements. And since the end of the pandemic, the art market in Canada has slowed down significantly, recalls Mme Cazin, which eliminates income opportunities.
Five portraits
The Plouffe Family, mid-career artist (multidisciplinary)
Since 2013, Guillaume Boudrias-Plouffe has been a full-time artist. But “in the long term, it’s hard on mental health.”
He is from La Famille Plouffe, with his partner Émilie Levert and their Emeline, Léo and Zéphir. Their sculptures and installations can be seen in parks and in front of schools, often created as part of the Policy for the Integration of the Arts into Architecture and the Environment.
Public works of art that are chosen by competition. “We are lucky to regularly be finalists. We are then paid for this part. If our project is not chosen, our income stops,” explains Mr. Boudrias-Plouffe. Sometimes, after spending money on the mock-up, samples and 3D modeling, “we have almost nothing left”.
The Plouffe Family often presents exhibitions, for which it has several times obtained grants from the CALQ, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Conseil des arts de Longueuil.
But family income is meager, says the 40-year-old. “The best years, we didn’t make $40,000. And we must then keep it aside for the following years. »
Mr. Boudrias-Plouffe admits to having sometimes received financial assistance from relatives and food assistance services. “It’s hard to admit that. »
He will participate in the demonstration on Wednesday. “An idea is running through my head: that of a basic income for artists — like organizations can have a mission subsidy, which keeps them alive for a few years. » An idea that three other artists interviewed also evoke.
Ariane Ouellet, established artist (multidisciplinary)
It is rare for murals to be painted in Abitibi-Témiscamingue without Ariane Ouellet being involved. She traveled the region to create these very large works, including that in tribute to Richard Desjardins in Rouyn-Noranda.
His income as an artist is supplemented by the sale of dozens of paintings per year, exhibitions and art workshops given in schools.
In her 25-year career, Ariane Ouellet has obtained three scholarships at CALQ. “I don’t know any artist who lives on subsidies. Those who have it are from time to time. The myth of the subsidized artist is unfounded. » In 2024, she received a little over $10,000 from the CALQ for her participation in the collective installation Lose root.
“If I calculate the number of hours put into this, I’m not sure that it’s above the minimum wage,” says the 52-year-old photographer and painter. The project, with its political content, would have had difficulty finding private financing, she believes.
In the last ten years, his income as an artist has varied from $35,000 to $60,000. She has been occupying a workshop for free since 2015, which she will have to leave in the spring due to renovations. “It’s stressful. I am a single parent; I have a teenager who is going to CEGEP whose studies I will have to pay for; my tank is on the verge of being finished. »
To escape from precariousness, Mme Ouellet has been teaching visual arts at CEGEP for four years. “It takes away creative time. I find it difficult to combine the two jobs,” says the woman who estimates she works around sixty hours a week.
Nelson Henricks, established artist (video and multidisciplinary)
A professional artist since 1986, arriving in Montreal in 1991, Nelson Henricks, 61, expresses himself mainly in video, a medium that has difficulty breaking into the art market. Opportunities for him to sell works are rare, this demand coming mainly from museums.
From 2015 to 2023, his average annual income was $80,000. Not bad ? That includes a teaching salary at Concordia, where he takes a reduced session when he wants to create. “I always have to navigate these choices. Now I lack the energy to constantly carry the equivalent of two jobs “, he explains.
-The average of its artistic practice costs, for the same period, is $23,000 per year: equipment, workshop, technicians with specific skills, etc.
Over time, he was “very well supported by the CALQ”, obtaining a scholarship every two or three years, “through different programs: residencies, travel assistance, purchase of equipment. Next year, for example, I’m going to occupy the Paris studio for six months.
And retirement? “I’m going to work as long as I can without becoming completely ridiculous,” he says, a smile in his voice, both out of passion and out of need. The house he owns with his partner will allow them, upon its sale, a small income.
Creation is exciting, he recalls. “With precariousness comes great freedom. I traveled, met fascinating people, my horizons opened up,” concludes the man who is these days exploring the potential of artificial intelligence.
Bahar Taheri, emerging artist (video, installation, print arts)
Arriving in Quebec in 2014, Bahar Taheri found, after years of hardship and “a few very dark episodes”, a financial balance since 2021 by teaching visual arts at Dawson College.
“I work like two,” says the woman who has just stopped “7 days a week”… for a six-day week. “If I can’t make art, my life is pointless. » Teaching now takes up 70% of his time and 100% of his income.
In his native Iran, the sale of his works constituted 70% to 80% of his income. “My practice was my main occupation. I had big solo exhibitions, residencies in Austria and Germany, curators from Europe came to see the work. » However, it is impossible to compare life there and life here, so different. The fact remains that the artist no longer feels that his art is as valued here.
“It’s a question of networks,” she believes. In Iran, the middle, “these were my friends from university. These are the people whose works I see today in books about contemporary Iranian artists. If I had stayed, I would have been there too. »
Despite frequent attendance at openings and launches, a grant which allowed him to work at the Skol Current Arts Center at minimum wage and to have a duo exhibition there in 2018, despite the purchase of one of his works by the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, Bahar Taheri is unable to break through in Quebec.
The pandemic forced the cancellation of his first solo exhibition planned here. But she received a CALQ scholarship in 2020, the only one to date, after four or five applications. Some $20,000 for a year. “It was wonderful. »
“We must understand that, if the financial situation is a little easier for artists, the quality of artistic work will be better. »
Camille Lescarbeau, emerging artist (textile arts)
“For me, the ability to be an artist lies in the ability to live with precariousness. More than creativity, more than talent, you have to be able to accept this risk,” believes Camille Lescarbeau.
In an interview from her creative residency at the Rimouski Regional Museum, the artist believes she “became truly professional” a year and a half ago, when museums began to invite her. His challenge? “Make the best exhibitions I can. It’s management: where am I going to get my money, when an exhibition fee is $2,475, even in a museum? » If the ideal is to have a grant to create a work for which the exhibition fee then becomes the income, too often the fee covers all creative expenses.
2024 was his first year without side jobs. “I had two solo exhibitions, a residency/group exhibition, an auction, a panel discussion, a live model contract for a drawing class, a teaching contract to make handmade paper,” he lists -She.
She also applied for nine grants from different authorities last year, and she will receive her very first, from the federal government, next year. She has never received any CALQ scholarships. His income in 2024: $23,300. Costs to make your art: $9,000, almost nothing for this medium.
“My practice is ecofeminist: I don’t buy anything. I recycle, I take what is given to me, I adapt my artisanal know-how to what I have on hand. I live humbly, I share my rent, I feed myself, I create. »
She believes she is “one catastrophe away from changing her life”. “If my chum falls ill, or me, if I have to take care of my parents, it no longer holds. »
Does she want to have children? Silence. The voice becomes emotional. “I find it scary to be faced with this choice: to have a family or to create,” confides the 31-year-old artist.
“There, I’m putting in the work so that eventually I reach a stage where I will exceed the poverty line, where I will feel more comfortable having a child…”
