We were lucky to catch up with Rah Eleh recently and have shared our conversation below.

Rah, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?

In high school, I was voted “most likely to become the next woman prime minister,” so, when I started university, I was enrolled in political science, and my goal was to eventually work as a diplomat. Growing up in a political family with activist parents, I was fully immersed in political activities, so studying international development seemed like the natural next step. During my first year, I felt this deep, overwhelming outrage about the injustices in the world and threw myself into various political student groups and associations. However the stress was intense, and I felt a creative void and began to question if life in politics would offer the balance I needed.

Creativity had always been a part of life—I loved dance, poetry, and photography, and I knew that a creative life would ultimately bring me happiness. As an emerging artist, I believed political art could directly change the world. It was a hard lesson to learn that art doesn’t always create immediate political impact, and that realization was a tough pill to swallow. In my second year, I took a class on art and globalization, and it opened a new perspective, I felt truly empowered and began to see artivism as a viable profession.

Being an artist gives me a deep sense of purpose. I feel like a “cultural diplomat” of sorts, travelling, meeting new people, and absorbing different cultures—these experiences are incredibly enriching. But being an artist is also a lot like being a scientist: it involves hours of experimentation in the lab, testing ideas, failing and embracing uncertainty. I find profound meaning in creating work that connects people. While my work may not always move policy, it reaches people on a discursive level, which does have a real-world impact. However, I sometimes wonder if I would have made a more direct impact working in politics.

Rah, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

I started my practice as an identity-based photo artist, and then expanded into performance art, performative video, and multimedia installations using projection mapping, light installations, data visualization, and, more recently, sculpture.

My work has a “split personality”: on one side, there’s a distinct style that combines futuristic pop art with humor, parody, and camp aesthetics. I create characters that embrace absurdity, nostalgia, and play. Conversely, I have a more cerebral, intense body of work that pulses through video essays, performance lectures, documentaries and data- or archive-based projects. Each project requires unique research and investigation, and I don’t limit my work to any one medium. I encourage viewers to view my oeuvre in its totality to see how it engages with a dynamic range of interconnected issues rather than focusing on a deep exploration of a material or method.

My current artistic interests and dissertation explores Cofuturism, counter-futurism, alternative futurism, and ethnic futurism—terms debated at the forefront of contemporary discourse. Regardless of the umbrella category, I’m excited by the potential of these movements to highlight urgent issues of our time while offering us valuable lessons to carry forward into the future. Amid today’s ecological and political challenges, engaging with the future has never felt more critical.

I see my role as an artist as one of asking questions and reflecting on the world. My work provides a space for dialogue and community. Staying committed to this profession can be demanding, given its inherent precarity, yet I’ve been at it for over a decade. Through it all, I’ve maintained my values and ethics, and I’m proud of the resilience I’ve built as an artist and the integrity of my practice.

What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?

To create a truly thriving creative ecosystem, our society must prioritize the well-being of artists. We need to start by addressing structural issues: artists need livable wages, strong unions, access to healthcare, and pensions. We need more governmental grants, donations, and patronage to sustain cultural institutions. Making art should not push artists to financial ruin; affordable studio spaces and accessible community resources are essential to support our work.

Paying artists preparation fees is another critical step. Too often, artists invest significant time in meetings, planning, drafting, and sketching—only for exhibitions to be cancelled. Artists only get paid once a show is realized, which overlooks all of the investment they’ve already made. Paying a preparation fee respects this labour and acknowledges the work done behind the scenes.

Our museums and galleries need to champion local talent, moving beyond big-budget blockbuster exhibitions to support and collect the works of living artists. Collections that include diverse, contemporary artists bring nuance, meaning, and culture to our communities—not just capital. These foundational changes are essential for building a sustainable ecosystem where artists can thrive and feel supported.

Some individuals may question the value of the arts or be reluctant to see their tax dollars invested in this field. To them, I’d ask: what helped you get through the COVID lockdowns? Every film you watched, every song you listened to, every book you read or video game played—are the creation and work of artists. Art plays a far greater role in our lives than most people recognize.

We also need to challenge the romanticized idea of the artist as a frivolous creators, as well as the stigma that art isn’t a “real job.” Many of us work overtime hours for minimal pay, and much of this labor is invisible. My days are filled with administration, meetings, research, and the constant hustle to fund each project. Securing grants and resources can take months or even years. The work is rigorous and requires a specialized skill set that takes a lifetime to develop.

However, artists don’t pursue this work for the money. Most of us are here because our practice provides purpose and fulfillment on an existential level. With the right support, artists can continue to create work that enriches our lives and culture.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

The most rewarding aspects of being an artist are the opportunities for travel, freedom, and a lifetime of learning. Many artists I know who are deeply involved in the art world are international, and for those like me, whose work resonates with a global audience, international residencies and exhibitions are essential ways to engage these communities. There’s a unique freedom in being able to take time to attend a residency, an art show abroad, or a talk by a favourite artist or scholar. Of course, this flexibility can vary greatly for parents in the field, artists with caregiving responsibilities, or those balancing other jobs. While the piggy bank may be lean, we live rich lives filled with travel, inspiration, and meaningful connections. I’m grateful to spend my days thinking about art, creating art, and dreaming up the next piece, eagerly directing projects I’ve dreamed up and immersing myself fully into the production.

What’s incredibly rewarding is seeing how the work resonates with others. It’s always meaningful to meet someone who knows my work, who has experienced an installation, or who feels genuinely excited about the project. Peer recognition, especially for political work, helps sustain the momentum and stamina needed to keep creating. It’s a reminder that our art reaches beyond ourselves and connecting to others in meaningful ways,

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.rah-eleh.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elehrah/?hl=en
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rah.eleh.3/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rah-eleh-b8021b168/

Image Credits

SuperNova Installation shot Scott Lee.