Business and Art. What's Left?

At the intersection of art and business: the artist’s hand at the keyboard, framed by screens and works in progress in the studio.

The difference between being an artist and being an art business owner is drastic. For most of my life, I’ve been an artist — even before I knew what an artist was. I believe I was born this way, just like I was born left-handed.

With four brothers and one sister, all right-handed, I was seen as a little different — possibly strange or weird. My dad used to express fascination with my left-handedness. I never took it personally. Instead, I wondered why he found it so significant. It turns out he had good reason.

The Bias of Left and Right

Medieval manuscript text contrasting “Dextera” (the right) with “Sinistra” (the left).

The very words for “left” and “right” carry hidden bias. In English, right comes from a root meaning “straight” or “correct,” while left comes from an Old English word meaning “weak” or “foolish.”

Other languages echo the same divide. Latin gave us dexter for 'right' (as in “dexterity”), while sinister — its word for left — shares meaning with “evil” or “unlucky.” In French, droit means both “right” and “justice,” while gauche — the word for left — also means “awkward.” Italians say destra for right and “good” and sinistra for left and “bad.” Even in German, where recht means both “right” and “law,” the word linkisch or left means “clumsy.

For centuries, these kinds of associations laid the groundwork for suspicion of left-handed people like me.

Religion, Superstition, and Survival

Then comes religion, which added even more weight to the suspicion. In Christianity, the right hand became the hand of blessing while the left symbolized judgment. Art from the early church even placed the saved on God’s right and the damned to his left. In Scripture Ecclesiastes 10:2 says, “The heart of the wise inclines to the right, but the heart of the fool to the left.”

Detail from Michelangelo’s The Last Judgment (1536–1541). Christ blesses with his right hand while condemning with his left — an image that fixed left/right symbolism into Christian art for centuries.

And then there was superstition doing its part. I mean, at one time, a left-handed handshake might have been seen as greeting the devil. Spilling salt with your left hand was bad luck, but tossing it over your right shoulder was good luck. During the witch trials, left-handedness was seen as compelling evidence of the guilt of a suspect.

At some point it occurred to me that my dad’s fascination was likely practical too. As a WWII veteran, he would likely have understood how left-handedness once meant life or death. For centuries, armies standardized combat by keeping shields in the left hand to protect the heart, swords in the right. A left-handed soldier disrupted that formation — his shield blocking his neighbor’s sword, throwing the whole line into chaos. Dang lefties!

The Era of Forced Retraining

Flash forward to the Victorian age, when morality cast left-handedness as defiance, stubbornness, and even deficiency. So by the 19th and early 20th centuries, this thinking gave way to widespread “correction” in compulsory schooling, where teachers confronted left-handers en masse, determined to create standardized workers for right-handed tools and machines to feed the increasingly industrialized world.

Vintage classroom, early 20th century. In an era when left-handedness was seen as a defect, many children were forced to “retrain” under strict and often humiliating methods.

Suddenly, it was a matter of dollars and cents. Children had their left hands tied, slapped, or strapped to their bodies with uncomfortable devices. They were made to endure shame and humiliation in the name of “correction” and “progress.” The consequences — stuttering, learning difficulties, sleep disorders, lifelong insecurity — became known as sinistrality neurosis.

Bright Spots and Shifts

But not all cultures shared the stigma. Widespread examples of ancient Egyptian art depict left-handers without judgment. The Incas considered it a sign of fortune and spiritual power. And throughout history, left-handed fighters often had an edge: their unorthodox stance disrupted formations, just as modern athletes disrupt expectations today.

In baseball, pitchers like Randy Johnson and Sandy Koufax, and hitters like Babe Ruth or Barry Bonds, threw off right-handed opponents who weren’t used to their angles. In boxing, fencing, and tennis, southpaws from McEnroe to Navratilova to Nadal have earned both respect and fear for the same reason — they fight from an unexpected direction.

Boxing highlights the southpaw advantage. Left-handed fighters often wrong-foot right-handed opponents, earning both respect and fear for their unorthodox stance.

Photo: Southpaw Joe Calzaghe vs. Roy Jones Jr., Madison Square Garden, Nov 8, 2008. Courtesy Ed Mulholland / US PRESSWIRE.

Artists too left their mark. Leonardo da Vinci wrote his notes in mirror script; Michelangelo was left-handed as well. Over time, psychology would reveal handedness to be innate, not defective. Soon corporal punishment fell away, and individual difference began gaining in value. By the 1970s and 80s, forced retraining had mostly ended in the West. Finally, left-handedness had shifted from stigma to curiosity remaining both common as well as mysterious.

Part of the mystery is owed to pop psychology which has long suggested that left-handers are more “right-brained” and therefore more creative. While science doesn’t fully support that myth, it does show that atypical brain lateralization often gives left-handers a different way of processing the world. When combined with the constant problem-solving required to live in a right-handed world, maybe it makes sense that so many artists, musicians, and scientists have been left-handed.

Discovering the Language of Art

For me, it's never been about brain science. Drawing had always been one of my most satisfying pastimes. Something that seemed so natural to me I never really gave it much thought in my youth. I’ve been doing it with my left hand as long as I can remember. It was an escape, yes — but more importantly, it was who I am.

Looking back, I can see the joy of drawing extended beyond paper to include art stores, where every new pencil, sketchbook, or gadget attracted my attention, affirming my identity as an artist. Every sketchpad, curve template, and eraser became part of a vocabulary I built for myself, which shaped my process, my preferences, and informed a style that would become my artistic identity. I was learning to speak the language of art.

The Lockdown Catalyst

Then came COVID-19. The 2020 lockdown gave me no choice but to focus on art like never before. With no other outlet, my discipline accelerated. When restrictions lifted, I was surrounded by a surplus of unfinished work. I either had to discard them or expand my space. I chose expansion — and opened a proper art studio.

Lockdown in my old apartment studio. Surrounded by half-finished canvases and clutter — but also by the urgency to create (2020).

In doing so, I extended the lockdown on purpose, thinking I would simply draw and paint every day, paying myself to do what I loved. What could be better?

Business as a Medium

The reality was very different from what I imagined. Running a business proved more demanding than I thought. My days were filled with phone calls, taxes, various filings, supply orders, shipping, marketing, customer service, social media, website maintenance — endless tasks that consumed the time I once spent just drawing.

Business ownership carries weight. People rely on you, depend on you, count on you for smooth operations. And then there’s money — revenue, debt, profitability, investors. Not to mention hiring, which relieves some pressures while adding new ones. When owning a business, pressures never go away; they weave themselves into daily life, ever present, becoming a part of you.

I didn’t see these truths before diving in, but now I understand: owning a business is its own medium. It demands the same creativity, discipline, and experimentation as any canvas. Gone are the days of waking up with coffee and a sketchpad to the exclusion of all else. But that’s okay. I’ve never shied away from new materials. Like trying a new solvent or acclimating to a new brand of paint, running my art business has been, at times, rewarding and at other times depleting. There's ups and downs, darkness and light. This undulation is part of the gathering of forces successful business conspires to keep in balance. Some days I fall, other days I soar. Either way, I keep practicing — because mastering this new medium means the freedom to master whatever’s on my easel. Wish me luck. -