Dying of Exposure

Though exposure to new audiences or key members of an industry is certainly not valueless, is it always fair compensation? Does its prevalence in creative industries allude to a misunderstanding of the value of creative work as a whole, both by employers and by viewers? TenEighty chats with Jonti ‘Weebl’ Picking, Chloe Dungate, Lucy Moon, and Ewan McIntosh to find out more.

“Do it for the exposure”. Whether you’ve worked in the creative sphere for decades or are still in the infancy of your career, it’s not uncommon to have a visceral reaction to that phrase. But what exactly does this exchange entail?

“Paying someone in exposure implies that while no money is being offered to compensate your time and the product you make, you will benefit from the distribution of that product on social media or through advertising, which will in turn boost your personal brand,” explains vlogger and blogger Lucy Moon.

Breaking it down to bare bones, exposure is just that: exposure. Visibility. A way of presenting to an otherwise unattainable audience – which, to be fair, sounds like a pretty good deal.

For some, it definitely can be. Artist Chloe Dungate agrees the offer of exposure can be tempting for creators or small businesses who, depending on context, “might be at a juncture where recognition or outreach would be of greater value than say profit.”

“Its attractiveness is based on the premise that more work will come as a result and that that work would be paid in actual money,” adds Jonti ‘Weebl’ Picking, fellow veteran animator on the platform, who admits that in the past he has done work for larger YouTubers and seen a resulting spike in his own channel activity.

Filmmaker Ewan McIntosh mentions that it’s common for creators in the same circle to lend their broad skill sets to peers on the basis of being credited appropriately for the work. “I think it’s very important to diversify my creative output as much as possible and collaborate with other talented people I know,” he explains.

However, to protect his work, he also draws a firm line in regards to compensation. “If you’re a brand or company I will only accept an agreed sum of money for my work. If you’re trying to make money using something I’ve made – you pay me for it first.”

But even though working seemingly for free is often a staple in ‘don’t’ advice from more veteran creators, to those in the initial years of their careers it can seem a little counterintuitive. Sure, for photographers with extensive portfolios or videographers with years of impressive credits, doing work for exposure may not have much value. But for those who could do with a shoutout from a key brand in order to get their content off the ground, exposure can be an attractive incentive.

“While exposure is certainly a form of reward, it is far more arbitrary and, more importantly, very unreliable.”

At its best, exposure can give small creators a level of visibility they would otherwise not reach. However, at its worst, exposure can be an empty, exploitive promise used to prey on and devalue creators. “While exposure is certainly a form of reward, it is far more arbitrary and, more importantly, very unreliable,” notes Ewan, and in the term’s ambiguity lies its danger.

Just scrolling through the For Exposure Twitter page will bring you across hundreds of stories submitted by artists who have been approached by clients who expected work to be done completely free of charge. ‘Exposure’ in these cases is thrown in as an afterthought, a catch-all phrase, and oftentimes these accounts detail the disproportionate outrage clients react with when presented with a financial estimate of the work they have requested.

"I'm not paying for someone to draw something. Sorry.

(Sorry that some of you are so desperate for money because you can't get a real job 😀)"

— For Exposure (@forexposure_txt) February 14, 2018

It’s a uniquely entitled reaction that accuses creators of being greedy or desperate for money; they seem to demand services and then criticise the validity of a creative profession in the same breath. This is an attack that has been leveraged at creatives for years: ‘your job is fun! If you love doing it, you’d do it for free, and since it’s fun it can’t be that hard.’

The most pressing issue for creators is then to parse good offers from bad, to evaluate whether exposure will truly be sufficient payment for the work commissioned. Exposure is often what artists need to get started, but the term is dirtied by overwhelmingly negative experiences. “When a company or person just offers exposure and no financial compensation, it suggests that, no matter how much publicity they can offer, they ultimately do not value your work,” Lucy says.

lmao a brand just offered me the exciting opportunity to spend my own money to buy their clothes and then promote them on my social media accounts for free

it’s a no from me, lads pic.twitter.com/qnAqJaRLez

— fiona 💞 (@neonfiona) January 16, 2018

So how do artists go about weighing exposure against true value? For Chloe, the answer is to ask more questions to dive past face-value and determine exactly what is being offered. “What is their reach?” she asks. “Who is their audience? Are they an established company/reputable individual? Will exposure from them actually generate new clients, or are they just shouting your name into a void?”

Value is not one size fits all like money – it’s often determined by the creator. What is good exposure for an animator may not hold the same value for a lifestyle vlogger. In a way, it falls on the creator to determine the unique value of each offer, to weigh these exchanges on a case-by-case basis. Good offers of exposure, in an ideal world, would be equal to or greater than the amount of money a creator would expect to receive for the same work.

“In a world of business everything has a price, and everything needs to be quantified in some way,” adds Ewan. “Exposure should work in exactly the same way – the amount of exposure should directly offset how much that exposure would be worth to a brand. It becomes exploitative as soon as it becomes the cheaper alternative.”

“There’s an assumption that the job is easier because the artist loves it, and their work is thus perceived as not as valuable.”

The nature of this exchange exists in all professions, but is abnormally prevalent and normalised within creative industries as, ultimately, art is overwhelmingly viewed as a talent, not a skill. Lucy mentions that consumers often negate the time spent on a project because they assume that skill comes naturally, and that because the person enjoys their work it is considered a favor – a ludicrous idea in any other professional context. “There’s an assumption that the job is easier because the artist loves it, and their work is thus perceived as not as valuable,” she adds.

Jonti believes that this is only helped by the imposter syndrome and struggles with self-worth that many artists face when trying to see value in their own work. In addition to being told that their livelihood isn’t a proper job, clients don’t take into consideration the years of training and countless failed attempts that have been imperative in developing their craft. “That time you’ve spent learning your trade, working late into the night to improve, saved for months to get that mixer and mic, or Wacom Cintiq… it’s part of your fee,” he says.

Perhaps, like Ewan says, “the diversity of art and media is what ultimately shoots it in the foot when it comes to the ‘real world’ concept of economics.” In other words, there is no consistent base price across artistic mediums due to the inherently subjective way art is viewed.

‘Better’ in this context is nothing more than a matter of taste, so how does one justify charging a higher hourly rate than someone else? Why is your sketching piece the same price as this competitor, but your inked and colored pieces are £10 more? Creators, more than any other professionals, face a constant need to prove and argue for their own worth in order to be compensated – a skill requiring a certain confidence that doesn’t come easily to all.

‘For exposure’ exchanges set a precedent for not only the way that we think about the value of art, but how we as a society think creatives should be compensated. ‘For exposure’ deals have lasting implications that affect all artists, regardless of whether or not they take on these exchanges themselves.

“It’s becoming increasingly expected that creators should accept exposure as payment, whereas the same standard doesn’t seem to apply to people in other careers,” explains Chloe. She expounds upon one of the most important takeaways of the ‘for exposure’ exchange: artists across the board are not paid because others will do it for free.

“I’ve actually chewed out one major network guy in the past for promising young animators and sketch guys the world in return for very little, but it goes both ways,” adds Jonti. “This wouldn’t be as big a problem if creatives understood what their work is worth and also that, in accepting such offers, they hurt everyone else in the same field.”

“Maybe they figure ‘if you can’t be better, be cheaper’. And you don’t get cheaper than ‘for exposure’.”

Because self-criticism is so uniquely coupled with creative jobs, creators fall into a vicious cycle of hearing that they should be grateful to have jobs at all, subsequently questioning and underestimating themselves into taking work where they can get it, and ultimately clients taking advantage of that. “Maybe they figure ‘if you can’t be better, be cheaper’. And you don’t get cheaper than ‘for exposure’,” says Chloe. “There are psychological factors, historical, socio-economical… It’s not a vicious circle, it’s a vicious web.”

Most pointedly, exposure is not a universal form of currency. Its worth – much like stock – is determined by the potential it provides: for the key players who might see your projects and the jobs that might come from such an introduction in the future.

That being said, you can’t take ‘exposure’ into Costa and buy yourself a morning coffee, let alone a packet of sugar. Artists – especially freelancers – often don’t have the luxury of a salaried job that provides payslips on a regular basis, and taking jobs that don’t immediately give money as payment isn’t something you can do when you’re hurting for this month’s rent.

“Most of the excellent writers I know have to supplement their regular writing work with other paid jobs,” notes Susie Pearl in the Huffington Post article Why Should Artists Get Paid?. “Only the top percentile of good writers can earn a living [through guest spots and festival appearances].” A survey conducted by the Association for Independent Professionals (IPSE) and The Freelancer Club, showed that creative industry freelancers with an average of seven years’ experience in their field lose roughly £5,394 through working for free.

It’s easy, then, to understand why so many creators have turned to alternative sources of funding such as Patreon to supplement their careers in a digital age that has already destabilised their earnings. For online animators, who have become increasingly disenfranchised by a YouTube algorithm that favors long-form content, this issue is especially stark. If some of the most valuable opportunities offered to you are not ones that pay in cash, then rent money has to come from somewhere.

Creatives: you're doing it for the EXPOSURE. pic.twitter.com/paTlqvHPKb

— Matthew Inman (@Oatmeal) October 26, 2017

The absence of standardised payment isn’t due to any lack of knowledge on the side of the creators, who often have set metrics within the scope of projects that allow them to set a general budget or cost.

For animation, Jonti notes that he uses a base cost-per-minute, but that this can change depending on the individual artist. “We have always tried to make sure we pay the guys we work with fairly and that is the major determining factor in our costs,” he says. “You want painted backgrounds? Costs more to hire a background artist but looks awesome, and so on.”

Whether maliciously or out of naivety, clients often wildly underestimate the time and cost of production. “I often feel as though brands see my value as only a virtual billboard and not as a creator,” says Lucy, echoing a long-standing information gap between new media online content producers and those in more traditional formats. “I hope we reach a point where social media creators are seen across the board as creatives, start consulting for advertising agencies and are respected as experts in online content production.”

This same misunderstanding is common between YouTube creators and viewers as well. Jack Howard recently vented his frustration with a commenter who claimed that a recent video they didn’t enjoy “couldn’t have been very expensive to produce”.

Comments like this are really getting to me this time. People presuming to understand how making our videos works when you haven’t got the first fucking idea. This sketch will have cost about 4K to make. The crew, the props, the set, the music, sound. It all adds up! pic.twitter.com/oxAjsKhO0f

— Jack Howard (@JackHoward) December 4, 2017

“This sketch will have cost about £4K to make,” he defended. “The crew, the props, the set, the music, sound. It all adds up!” While it’s easy to dismiss the information gap between those involved in the project and those who consume the end product, it’s important to acknowledge that all consumers of art help determine its value, whether they make an effort to understand it themselves or not.

To make matters even more ambiguous, familiarity with the medium also has an impact on whether a client is able to make an accurate judgement of an appropriate budget. Ewan often finds that explaining the costs of video production – a complex process often involving large teams of highly specialised people – is easier than explaining photography or writing. Video equipment and editing software is intimidating to the average joe and being able to use them is obviously a skill that is honed over several years’ practice, but… everyone has a camera on their phone, right?

“With photography, well I could take a picture myself,” he mimes. “And I can draw, why should I pay you with money to make me some artwork?” Suddenly with more approachable art forms, the years of dedication to the skill aren’t accounted for. “My general advice would be at the core of it – they wouldn’t come to you if they could genuinely do it themselves. Remind them of that.”

Chloe agrees, adding that explaining the intricacies of the creative process should be a responsibility assumed by the creator as part of presenting an estimate. Ultimately, a client sources the job because – like Ewan mentioned – this is unfamiliar territory for them.

“Sometimes it’s just a case of explaining when something can or cannot feasibly be done within the budget or deadline,” she says. “Other times they seem to misunderstand the process on such a fundamental level that you have to wonder if they’re doing it on purpose in the hopes you do extra work for free. In general I think from clients to viewers, everyone is always quietly surprised by how much time everything takes.”

“It seems art isn’t considered valuable unless people think everyone else values it.”

So why are we still having this conversation? It’s 2018! Art is openly encouraged and celebrated, and with the internet as a platform smaller artists are offered more visibility than ever… right? Well, yes, but fair compensation for creatives is still a strangely taboo topic with no set answer. What is it about creative work that makes it so hard to objectively value?

“Maybe because people don’t think they need art?” argues Chloe. “They need medical care and security and food and education and governance and all the people who take care of those things. But art? No… It seems art isn’t considered valuable unless people think everyone else values it.”

For Lucy, a much-needed conversation about transparency needs to continue in the creative sphere, permeating all the way down to paychecks. “Whether it’s to do with gender, class or race, people don’t feel as embarrassed to talk about what they make because they want to make sure they’re getting the best deal for themselves and not being marginalised, systematically or otherwise,” she explains. “We’re realising that we need to be more assertive to change the behaviour of big corporations, and we now have grassroots soapboxes, in the form of social media, to make our cases on.”

Similarly, Jonti notes that this is a problem that can be helped, while not perhaps completely solved, through clear and effective communication about what a creator believes is the value of their work. Additionally, it falls on creators to stop endorsing a system that does not financially reward creators: “Respect your fellow creators enough to not work for free.”

For Ewan, however, this conversation isn’t one with a solution that can be packaged neatly in twine and put into place for future generations to carry out. Creative work is simply too broad a term, and any effort to standardize payment would only disadvantage large groups of artists in the process. Ultimately, he states, “it really falls to the creators of this work to know their worth, stand their ground, and stand up against the devaluation of one of the most complex types of work there is.”

The same complexity that makes art so hard to put a price on is what makes it so valuable in the first place, measured in an impact on our health, wellbeing, education, and society for which we never seem to give it enough credit. Bringing life to such pieces is as daunting as it is laborious; while there is a sense of fulfillment that comes with pursuing a creative projects, above all it’s simply hard work.

So reward these creators, not just by offering them individualised opportunities of exposure that will push their career forward, but also by listening to and trusting their own evaluations of their work’s worth.