Creatorship: Another Way to Build

Once a month, a dozen or so Korean families would gather at a home or a Chinese restaurant for a big dinner. The adults would socialize while the kids played together, but the highlight of the evening was always a lottery. Each family contributed money to a shared pool, and one family would take home the entire amount. Everyone celebrated when the recipient was announced, and I remember the excitement being particularly high when it was my parents' turn. This was a very familiar part of my childhood.

These gatherings were part of a Korean tradition called gye (계, pronounced “gyeh”), a rotating savings and credit association where families contribute a fixed amount of money each month. The contributions are pooled together and given to one participating family, with the process continuing until everyone has received their share. For example, twelve families contributing $1,000 each month would create a $12,000 pool. Over twelve months, each family would contribute and receive the same amount, but the timing of their payout could give them access to money much sooner than they could save on their own.

For Korean immigrants arriving in America during the 1970s and 1980s, gye became an important vehicle for economic opportunity. Many arrived with limited savings and no established U.S. credit history. Language barriers and unequal access to conventional financing created additional challenges. Korean churches played an important role in helping families establish relationships and build trust, creating networks through which people could share resources and support one another.

My family was part of this community. My parents helped establish a Korean church in Dallas, and the relationships they developed extended well beyond Sunday services. For many Korean immigrants, churches functioned as informal business incubators where people exchanged knowledge, developed professional relationships, and gained access to financial resources through their communities. I was too young to understand the economic significance of those monthly gatherings, but I remember how much they meant to the families participating.

The economic impact of these networks extended across Korean American communities. In Los Angeles, a 1987 study of Korean American garment-industry association members found that 75% of respondents or their family members participated in gye, while more than a third had used the funds to help start a business. Korean immigrants built businesses across the city, contributing to the growth of an apparel industry that would eventually produce companies like Forever 21.

These entrepreneurs relied on relationships and collective resources to pursue economic independence. Their ambitions were closely connected to anjong (안정), the Korean concept of stability and security, which shaped how many immigrant families understood the purpose of owning a business.

When I think about these gatherings today, I recognize many of the principles behind a concept we are developing called creatorship. In my last journal, I explored how Americans came to celebrate the exceptional individual who builds a business through personal vision and determination. The Korean immigrant families I grew up around demonstrated another approach, one grounded in shared resources and relationships. They pursued their own ambitions while helping others establish the financial security to pursue theirs.

Creatorship builds on this idea of economic agency and collective responsibility. I believe business ownership offers people an opportunity to create something meaningful while supporting the communities around them. The people who contribute to a business should have opportunities to participate in the value it creates.

I see these principles reflected in the way many artists and creative business owners approach their work today. Some operate businesses, while others freelance or take on commercial projects to support their creative practice. Their professional work provides the financial resources and flexibility to continue creating on their own terms.

I follow a similar path with Project Wonder. My art installations are an important part of my career, but the revenue they generate is insufficient to sustain my business throughout the year. I take on freelance work and larger commercial projects to support myself and continue developing new ideas.

I want to invest more in developing my own concepts so I can take greater control over what I create. Artists often depend on clients, curators, or other gatekeepers to provide the resources and opportunities to bring their ideas to life. My goal is to be more self-sufficient, allowing me to pursue my creative ambitions on my own terms and approach potential partners from a stronger negotiating position.

I also see another benefit to maintaining a source of income outside of my creative practice. I know many artists who attempted to turn their creative practice into a full-time business and eventually lost their passion for the work. The financial pressure to continually produce something marketable can change the relationship between an artist and their craft. When every project needs to generate revenue, there may be less room for experimentation or the personal exploration that makes the work meaningful in the first place.

These conversations challenge the assumption that a successful creative career requires earning an entire living through art. I see tremendous value in designing an economic structure that allows a creative practice to evolve at its own pace.

Creatorship is the practice of building a business around a meaningful purpose. It uses craft and creativity to create value for communities while fostering relationships and shared success.

Creating and operating a business requires imagination and problem-solving. Business owners continually make decisions, experiment with ideas, and develop solutions through experience. Over time, they refine their craft and develop a process that reflects their values and the purpose behind their work.

Creatorship can take many forms. Someone might build a business around their artistic practice, while another person may find creative fulfillment through the business they operate. Others may use income from their professional work to support separate creative pursuits. Independent professionals who manage their own work and client relationships are also operating businesses, even when they work alone. Each person can design a different relationship between their livelihood and the work they care about.

The process matters as much as the outcome. I appreciate the work involved in turning an idea into something real, including the challenges of assembling a team and developing the systems needed to support it. There is satisfaction in improving your craft through repetition and learning how to do something better with each attempt. Running a business gives people an opportunity to develop that practice over years, continually refining what they create and how they deliver it.

Relationships are fundamental to creatorship. Every business depends on the contributions of people who share their knowledge, offer support, and help bring a vision to life. I believe Creators have a responsibility to recognize those contributions and create opportunities for everyone involved to share in the value they build together.

When I think back to those monthly dinners, I recognize the importance of the commitments those families made to one another. Each family contributed to the pool every month, knowing their turn would eventually come and that others would continue supporting them afterward. I want to cultivate that same spirit through Creators Creed, building a community where people share their experience and resources to help one another pursue their ambitions. The greatest value of a community comes from knowing that we can count on one another through both the challenges and the successes of creating something meaningful.