With a world in crisis and an art market spinning out of control, ace art-world consultants Chen & Lampert deliver hard truths in response to questions sent by Art in America readers from far and wide.I’m a curator at one of the world’s biggest museums, which may sound glamorous—but the truth is quite different. I am poorly paid considering my degree, and I often feel invisible. An ethics policy forbids me from working on shows or writing for other entities. There are curators at smaller museums who are not burdened with such restrictions. I’m tied to my desk and pitching proposals to committees while they’re free to moonlight for foundations, write catalog essays, curate gallery shows, and appear in documentaries. I want to pivot, but that might mean leaving what is actually one of the top jobs in my field. What should I do?Given the health insurance your museum provides, it would be prudent to have a doctor check out that itchy career rash. Wearing velvet handcuffs may not leave your wrists enough air to breathe. Those who don’t know any better romanticize the behind-the-scenes reality of being a museum curator, erroneously assuming that the position comes with autonomy and unlimited cultural cachet. You probably believed that once too, unaware that a curator’s time is primarily spent adult-sitting egomaniacal artists and negotiating institutional politics in an endless series of idea-deadening meetings. Now that you are hampered with a primo gig, you see all too well that, in art as in life, perception is actually abstraction.The groove-crushing ethics policy you are beholden to was built on the fantasy of a curator’s being an objective cultural custodian who stands apart from the corrupting influence of the market. This antiquated notion presumes that writing a gallery text or throwing together a show elsewhere compromises your neutrality. Today’s public-facing curators understand that credibility, gravitas, and moral authority are illusions and delusions. The elbow-padded firewall between scholarship and commerce has been dismantled, but your museum still thinks it’s 1962. Many other institutions—and the thirsty, degree-holding curators rising through them—have embraced a world where visibility, flexing, and economic agency are indeed gross, but not dirty.Quitting your top-tier job in our current economy is in all likelihood a bad idea, unless you have a nest egg, a trust fund, a sugar daddy, or a compassionate partner willing to underwrite such a cliff dive. You cannot be the only aspiring curator at your institution stewing over this frustration. Perhaps you can assemble a quorum of aggravated colleagues to discuss the necessary conditions for reform. Approaching your director and the powers that be en masse will help lay out the case without making you look like the only self-centered staffer. One for all, and all for one!I’ve worked steadily as a graphic designer and illustrator since the late 1960s. My list of clients is encyclopedic, and many of the album covers I made over the decades are considered classics. You’d certainly recognize many of my images, even if you didn’t know I made them. The commercial clients who used to hire me are now using kids with phones and AI to shave a line off their budget. I recognize that I’m old, but I’m not yesterday’s news. Do I need to accept that I’ve aged out of the business?It isn’t a matter of aging out—you’ve just advanced into an ageist world that values speed over soul. Being distinctive in what you do used to be the goal, but now it is closer to a liability. It’s undeniable that you’re old, but so is the Sistine Chapel, and no one’s asking it to retire because a TikToker can deck out a ceiling with a paint roller and a ring light. Your work helped establish the visual culture these bozo brands now slap their logos on, and that makes you less a relic and more a god they’re too dumb to worship. Build on your undeniable resume and start offering “AI prompt editing services” so that you can get paid to fix the crap they generate. Congrats, you’re now both a designer and a bot wrangler. Your queries for Chen & Lampert can be sent to hardtruths@artinamericamag.com