As someone who reads a lot of books in the nonfiction arts space, this one was not what I expected. It reads like more of a surrealist/speculative novel, though much of the text is taken directly from interviews with artists and others working in the art world. It's on this level - the quotations from artists - that I found the book most interesting, underlying whole passages that spoke to me and my feelings around making art and the art world at large.

That being said, it was never clear who the intended audience was. (At the beginning, it felt like it was describing art to non-artists, but as the book went on, it went deeper into art theory.) And I struggled with the ways the book perpetuated the stereotypes that to make money as an artist is to sell out and debase your work.

I'm glad I was able to read an advanced copy of this book and will likely return to some of the more interesting quotes, but as a creative business coach, I doubt I'll be recommending other artists read this book.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the review copy.

“Once upon a time, I believed the ladder was real. But the ladder was simply an image of a way out created by zombies who knew they could capitalise on our all-nighter joy. They understood full well the conditions did not allow poor artists to thrive, and they knew we had nowhere to run”

Having followed The White Pube for years now, I was thrilled to get my hands on their first book, Poor Artists. It’s a raw, pointed series of vignettes, each one exposing the trials and tribulations that British artists face today. Gabrielle and Zarina hold a mirror up to the current state of the arts and culture sector, and the reflection staring back is not a pretty one.

The book takes an unflinching look at so many of the hurdles that artists encounter: the relentless funding cycle that requires work to bend itself to fit narrow funding criteria; the question of where artists are meant to find the money to create work that falls outside these public funding structures; debates around what qualifies as “good” art in today’s landscape; and the role galleries play in shaping what ultimately becomes the nation’s accepted “understanding” of art. The questions raised are painfully relevant for anyone working in the arts and culture sector.

While I’m not a visual artist myself (though I do dabble in the occasional cross-stitch), Poor Artists hit home. The book’s reflections on what it means to be a creative in Britain today feel universally relevant, touching on the experiences of nearly everyone I know who’s trying to work within the arts; be it as a visual artist, filmmaker, writer, or theatre maker. In particular, the sections that address the unique struggles of creating while self-employed and chronically ill struck a personal chord. There’s something profoundly validating about realising you’re not alone on this relentless uphill path.


The book is packed with theory, which I’ll admit felt a little dense at times, but I think that’s probably down to my perspective as someone outside the visual arts. There’s a certain weight and complexity to The White Pube’s arguments that I don’t think Gabrielle and Zarina could have simplified without sacrificing the essence of what they’re trying to say. In that sense, it feels less like a shortcoming of the book and more of a reflection of the integrity with which they approach this topic.

Poor Artists is an essential read for anyone navigating or simply observing the creative industries in Britain today. It’s cathartic, insightful, and, perhaps most importantly, unapologetically honest: a work that feels like a lifeline for artists everywhere who are grappling with the impossible task of sustaining themselves and their art in a system that feels indifferent.
I’ll end this review with one of my favourite quotes from this gorgeous book:

“All artists are worthy, even if nobody has written about them, even if they don’t want to be written about”


Thank you to the publisher and to NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

An insider take on the lives of those brave enough to venture into the world of art.

With such vivid snapshots from a torn artist's perspective, one can’t help but to admire the unifying experience of creative self expression. It goes beyond class and status. In a way, this is a love letter to all the artists, big and small.

Thank you to Netgalley and Prestel for this ARC.