the alchemy of art (or, why you should support local artists)

art is just socially accepted alchemy—turning chaos into something that means something. sometimes it’s gold, sometimes it’s absolute bullshit, but either way, it shapes the world. this one’s about why that matters.

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For every burgeoning artist, the journey is filled with moments of contrast—the soaring highs and the humbling lows. For every big, unforgettable show I’ve played, there’s been another in a quirky venue with shoddy power and tricky acoustics, where you give your all for a crowd of maybe twenty people. And yet, even in those small moments, there’s something electric: the possibility that someone in that room might truly hear you, might carry your music forward, or might one day say, “I saw them when…”

It begins when someone catches that first show in a dive bar, shares their first hand-burned CD, believes in a band before the world ever did. Those early supporters aren’t just bystanders; they’re part of the story. Without them, there’s no foundation to build on, no community to elevate the voice of the artist. Supporting local music—or any art—isn’t just an act of kindness or charity; it’s an act of creation. You’re not just witnessing the journey; you’re shaping it. Every ticket bought, every song streamed, every word shared—these are the bricks that build the road from obscurity to recognition.

Artists: Society’s Weird, Misunderstood Alchemists

Since the dawn of humanity, artists have been society’s alchemists—not the kind looking to turn lead into gold, but the ones who take the raw, abstract mess of life—its uncertainties, contradictions, and chaos—and turn it into something real. Something you can touch, hear, see, and feel. This is the work we try to do: transform the intangible into the tangible, the incomprehensible into something that makes sense.

Art is also a multi-billion-dollar industry, which is funny, considering how little value we often actually place on the people making the art, at least in the beginning. We celebrate the lucky few who “make it,” turn them into icons, and throw obscene amounts of money at them—while the ones still finding their place are met with, “yeah, but what’s your real job?” it’s a weird contradiction: we hold art up as something sacred, essential, even life-changing, but the act of making it? That’s not always seen as enough. modern society loves art, but it doesn’t always know what to do with the artist.

This happens because people forget that every masterpiece begins as an act of faith: faith in the artist, yes, but also faith in the audience to show up, to care, to believe. Without that, the alchemy never happens.

Art through the Ages

From the beginning, artists have had the same job: take the shapeless, messy chaos of life—the fears, the questions, the dreams—and turn it into something real. Something you can touch, see, hear, and feel. Whether it’s a cave painter immortalizing the spirit of the hunt, a medieval monk threading gold into illuminated manuscripts, or a digital artist uploading their latest creation to TikTok, the goal has always been to bridge the gap between what we feel and what we understand. To give form to the formless, something we can argue about at dinner, hang on our walls, or cry to in our headphones. And while the role of the artist—this strange alchemist who turns chaos into meaning—has stayed the same, how we fulfill it has always evolved alongside history.

Take the earliest known artists: the ones who painted on the walls of caves like Lascaux. Those bison and handprints weren’t just pretty pictures to pass the time. They were survival tools, a visual language documenting the rhythms of life. These artists weren’t just saying, “Here’s a bison.” They were saying, “This is who we are. This is what we value. This is what we fear.” Their art didn’t just help their communities understand the world—it helped them navigate it. Without those early visual storytellers, humanity might not have made it past the Ice Age. Art wasn’t a luxury; it was life or death.

Jump ahead a few thousand years to the Renaissance, and art had become a symbol of power, transformation, and possibility. Think of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling. That wasn’t just a painting. It was a declaration: human creativity is sacred. To imagine and create is to echo the divine. Or take Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man—a single image that captured the harmony of art and science, intellect and beauty. These weren’t just exercises in skill; they were statements about what humanity could achieve. And behind it all, you had patrons like the Medici, who understood that art wasn’t just personal expression—it was power. By investing in artists like Botticelli and Caravaggio, they didn’t just make Florence beautiful; they reshaped culture and solidified their own legacies. The Renaissance wasn’t just a time of inspiration; it was proof that art could question, elevate, and transform humanity in profound ways.

We can then move to the 20th century, a time when art became more radical—and more necessary—than ever. Movements like Dada took the absurdity of World War I and threw it back at the world. Their nonsensical, provocative works weren’t just weird for the sake of weirdness—they were mirrors, reflecting the chaos of a senseless war. One of my favorite poems, The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats, chronicles the rapidly changing world in the context of World War I, questioning if these are the end times prophecy foretold.

And now, here we are in the 21st century, where art is more accessible—and more commodified—than ever. Social media platforms like Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok have turned everyone into a potential artist, but algorithms reduce creativity to likes, shares, and metrics. It’s a strange paradox: art is everywhere, yet it feels harder than ever to create something meaningful. Even so, artists keep finding ways to connect, underground creators who use digital tools to resist commodification and carve out spaces for raw, uncompromised expression. Art today is both everywhere and elusive—a reflection of the world we’re living in, and proof that even in a hyper-commercialized age, the artist’s role hasn’t changed. We’re still here, making sense of the chaos.

Why the Artist—and You—Matter More Than Ever

Despite all the obstacles—despite the ridicule, the commodification, the uphill battle—artists keep creating. We have to. In a world that feels increasingly fragmented, disconnected, and absurd, art is the thread that holds us together. It’s how we make sense of our lives, how we imagine a better future, how we laugh at the chaos and cry for its beauty.

But here’s the truth: we can’t do it alone. Art has never been a solo act. It’s always been a collaboration between the creator and the audience. Every artist you’ve ever loved had someone who believed in them first. Someone who saw value in the messy beginnings—the missed notes, the awkward phrasing, the unpolished work—and said, “Keep going.” That belief is the spark that turns potential into brilliance, that transforms raw creativity into something the world can’t ignore.

You’re not just a consumer of art; you’re a participant. When you show up to the tiny gallery, buy a ticket to the local show, or share a song that made you feel something, you’re not just supporting an artist—you’re helping to build the foundation of art itself. Your role isn’t passive; it’s vital. Without your belief, there’s no story to tell, no legacy to create.

The World Needs Artists—and Believers

So please, buy the ticket. Tip the busker. Share the work that moves you. Recognize that your support doesn’t just help one artist—it contributes to the ecosystem that makes art possible. You’re investing in the myths and stories that give our lives meaning, in the music that gets us through heartbreak, in the films that remind us of our shared humanity.

Because without you, there’s no journey. No breakthrough. No future for the stories that help us make sense of this messy, beautiful existence. Without art, we’re just a bunch of cavemen with no bison on the walls, no songs in the air, and no stories to remind us of who we are.

And I don’t know about you, but to me, that sounds pretty shit.

-dex

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art is alchemy with better branding. sometimes it’s genius, sometimes it’s a mess, but either way, it changes people.

tell us - what’s a piece of art that got under your skin and never left? a song, a film, a book, a painting, some bizarre installation you still think about. sound off in the comments below.