I went to a convention for to get a spot of work
First editor I comes to, well he treats me like a jerk
The blokes behind the able smirks and giggles fit to die
I buggers off the dealer's room, and to meself says I,
Oh, it's "Artie this", and "Artie that," and "Aven't got the time"
But it's "Find me one more artist!" when your arse is on the line.
Your arse is on the line, my lad, your arse is on the line
And it's "Find me one more artist!" cause your arse is on the line.
I found another editor, polite as I could be.
He gave a slobbering fanboy room, but 'and't none for me.
He took my bleedin handout and he waved me on my way
Vaguely mouthing bullshit like "we'll call you up someday."
And it's "Artie this" and "Artie that" and "best we've ever seen!"
But once we're round the corner, it's straight to file thirteen.
Straight to file thirteen, my work goes straight to file thirteen,
I steps around the corner, and it's straight to file thirteen.
I gets a call the other day; some bloke was in a spot
He'd undercut his timetable, and things was getting hot.
He simpered and he flattered, dancing 'round the bottom line
And here's me, thinking to myself the whole annoying time:
Oh, it's "Artie this" and "Artie that" and "We'll do lunch sometime."
But it's "Put my project first, please." When you're running short of time.
You're running short of time, my lad, you're running short of time,
"Just put my project first, please" when you're running short of time.
I gets the project finished and I mails it out to boot
I pays the fed ex charges and I popped it in the chute
He say's it's got to be there and there's precious little slack
But I can't help but wonder if he's gonna pay me back.
But it's "Artie this" and "Artie that" and "Artie, won't you please?"
"Get it here next week, please, and bugger all the fees.
Bugger all the fees, you schlub, just bugger all the fees"
"Get it here next week, please, and don't worry 'bout the fees."
You'll ask for Michael Whealan, but you'll pay for Nameless Joe
You play us off each other, and you think that we don't know.
You make a filthy bundle but you won't pay us a cent
And then you up and wonder where your Michael Whealan went.
And it's "Artie this" and "Artie that" and "What a piece of shit!"
But it's "Masterpiece in progress" when your Prima Donna's quit.
Your Prima Donna's quit, my lad, your Prima Donna's quit.
It's "Masterpiece in progress" when your Prima Donna's quit.
We ain't no Leonardos, nor we ain't no Pollocks too
But people on a deadline, most remarkable like you
And if sometimes we ask you for a fair and decent price?
Well, people on a deadline can't work miracles like Christ.
And it's "Artie this" and "Artie that" and "Speed is issue one!"
Then it's "Paint the bugger over!" once the bloody thing is done!
The bloody thing is done, you know, the bloody thing is done
But you'll have it painted over now the bloody thing is done.
And Artie this and Artie that, and anything you please,
But artists aren't all insane; there's some of us what sees.
I ran an art studio with my volunteer brother for something like seven years. This song illustrates some of the really frustrating elements involved in trying to make a living on freelance art. We spent huge amounts of money on trips to conventions to court editors, on promotional packages to send out to the game companies, and on postal charges to get ridiculously under-scheduled work to editors who had no intention of reimbursement, or of even paying for the work on time.
Sadly, success in the art world, as in the rest of the world, has almost nothing to do with talent or skill, and everything to do with connections and business savvy. Damn it.
Fans of Rudyard Kipling will recognize the pattern of "Tommy" in this song. Entirely intentional, I assure you.