Why Do We Allow Artists to Be Underpaid?

A musician’s viral plea for help raises an important question: What do we owe to the people who bring life to our world?

By Mekhala Mira


September 1, 2025


Musician Ryan Nealon recently posted a plea for help on Instagram. His beloved cat, Rudy, had to be hospitalized for a few days, and Ryan couldn't afford the bills on his own.

Ryan is a touring musician who has amassed tens of millions of streams and has hundreds of thousands of followers. As someone who has worked in music myself, I know how extraordinarily hard that is to accomplish. The amount of dedication and hard work that takes, on top of the constant stress that comes with freelancing, is almost unfathomable. Forget about work/life balance. Your work is your life.

An independent musician such as Ryan in 2019 made an average of $12,860 a year from music-related income, and even musicians signed to labels only earned an average of $23,913. Eight in ten musicians, both label and independent, said that they didn't earn enough from music to not worry about their financial situation. More recent data is difficult to find, but one can infer that with the stagnation, and in some cases, decrease, of streaming royalties, as well as the rising cost of living, income is likely similar and financial instability has likely increased.

If you expand this to include other artists (designers, actors, dancers, photographers, editors, writers, etc.), that average income only rises to about $55,000 per year. That's less than the living wage in some states, and below the salary needed to live comfortably in every state. In California, for example, where many artists are based, the salary needed for a single adult to live comfortably is a whopping $119,475. The picture is quite clear. Artists are laughably underpaid for the work they do.

But why?

One reason is because they can be. Corporations take advantage of the passion artists have for their craft. Their heart is ingrained in their work. Most artists I know will do unpaid work. Most will accept payment in "experience." I've done it myself. What's the incentive for a company to pay somebody for their work when the next person will do it for free?

However, in other occupations, such as medicine or law, while there may be those who would be willing to practice for free out of a love for their craft, nobody would expect them to. Those who work pro bono are not asked to do so, they choose to do so themselves. One may argue that they got their "experience" in college, but in the arts, even those with degrees are treated the same as those without.

Why do the arts operate with a different incentive structure?

That brings up a core issue – our societal perception of art as a "fun" job, a frivolous one, a hobby, and therefore less deserving of compensation.

For most, arts are an afterschool activity in adolescence. Their experience either ends there or becomes an after-work hobby. Because most people's experience creating art is in the context of a fun, relaxing activity, they may see an artist and think they're not a hard worker. In our society, if you're not working hard, you haven't earned financial stability.

Corporations in the arts thrive on this perception. That's why you can get paid in "experience" or "college credit" with little to no pushback. For example, I took an internship at a film development company for "college credit" - meaning I paid $4,800 to work for free. I was a development intern, but in reality, I was treated as a glorified personal assistant, picking up lunch for executives and cleaning out dusty closets – with just enough script coverage on the side to provide a paper trail of "education." That was the industry "experience" I was getting paid with.

The whole time, I was sold on "You're making valuable connections that will help you later on." I remember wanting to say, "Why can't there be both? Why can't I make these connections while being paid for the work I'm doing for you currently?" I couldn't ask those questions though, because if I pushed back, there was someone else who would've happily picked up those Sweetgreen salads in my place.

In another disturbing example, "pay-to-play" shows have consumed live music opportunities for independent artists, especially in big cities like Los Angeles and New York City. This is how it works: A venue works with a promoter to book acts and that promoter will make the acts pay them in advance for a minimum amount of tickets they need to sell. The number of tickets is typically unreasonable for the size of the venue and amount of acts in the show, but if that act doesn’t sell the minimum amount of tickets, they don’t make a dollar on any of them. The promoter and venue pocket every dollar that artist brought in that night, including drink sales, cover charges, and a cut of the artist’s merch, while the artist — who provided their service to that venue — leaves at a loss.

In my experience as a musician in Los Angeles, I can tell you that it is rare to find a paid live gig. Every musician I know has paid to play at least one show, if not all their shows. Those famous Sunset Strip venues you hear about (The Roxy, The Whiskey, The Viper Room)? Yeah, those have all operated on the pay-to-play model for decades. It is deeply entrenched in the culture.

A promoter's "pay-to-play" ticket from a 2023 show at The Viper Room

Because of the perception of artists as hobbyists, they are expected to kneel at the feet of people who open the gates to opportunities. But those people created gates where they hadn’t existed before. They saw the opportunity to profit off of an artist’s passion and a societal perception that devalues their worth. Paid work is now framed as a privilege when it should be the norm, just like in every other industry.

Imagine a world where you can never listen to music, never watch a tv show or movie, and never read a book. A world where the walls of your home can only be a dull shade of white paint. Your life would consist of sitting in silence or talking about the weather. The "frivolous" job of an artist is one that brings actual life to someone's existence. There is no one on this planet who has not benefitted from the work of an artist.

My sister is a doctor. She often works 12 days in a row, with 2 days off in between, and often longer than 12 hours a day. I asked her how she's able to work such a grueling schedule without burning out, and she told me she gets home, immediately changes into sweatpants, and turns on an episode of The Bachelor to decompress. The work of artists gives her, and so many others, the ability to have a work/life balance, but the artists providing her with that luxury are paid less than a quarter of what she makes.

Ryan Nealon's fans donated in droves, and thankfully, his cat survived. But he has a massive platform. What about the other artists who don't have a social media following? Would they have to choose between eating or keeping their cat alive?

The goal of an artist’s work is to add fulfillment to others’ lives – how can we allow them to work paycheck to paycheck? How can we allow them to work multiple part time jobs, 7 days a week? How can we allow them to go without health insurance?


There is no one on this planet who has not benefitted from the work of an artist.

On top of that, the rise of AI and changes to corporate monetization policies have made it increasingly difficult each year for an artist to make a living, let alone a living from their work. That's not an inevitability, that is a choice. It is on us as a society to reflect on our biases and to hold those who exploit those biases to account. It is not a privilege to make art for a living; it is a privilege for others to benefit from an artist’s work.

Next time you listen to a song, or watch a movie, or read a book – think about the person who created it. They might be in the ICU, unable to afford care for their dying pet. They might be homeless. They might be hungry. But despite their circumstances, they’re still bringing you this moment of relief, of joy, of fulfillment. Don’t you think they should be paid for that?


Mekhala Mira is a writer, producer, and musician based in Los Angeles, California. Her work, rooted in both research and radical vulnerability, examines how the world around us shapes our internal lives.

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