Consciously looking through the parameters of capitalism, it is crucial to start from the closer perspective looking at the definition of who an individual is. In a simplified manner, an individual is a person who has the freedom to maintain a living through a distinctive choice of what to do, what to possess, and in which amount. This self-navigability should allow individuals to progress the social ladder freely following a favourable economic climate.

In theory, the conditions for reaching set goals, such as pursuing a particular career, advancing one's living conditions and becoming a 'homo viator' (Bourriaud, quoted in Velmeulen and Akker, 2010) or a 'nomad [artist]' (Prelević, 2019), prevail by default. Equal opportunity is fundamental, and migration in pursuit of better living conditions is attainable for an individual; however, these are merely a possibility or a promise rather than a certainty. In reality, how practical would it be for a working low-income class family from a third-world country to send their offspring to a more economically viable social setting in hopes of an improved living? Thus, who can actualise themselves as homo viators, and at what cost? It is a conditional matter of personal sacrifices of the individual (s) and their identities, not theorised potentials within a system; hence the question of power, conflict, and class struggle emerge.

Correspondingly, failing to maintain a living in the first place, that is, the inability to get or keep a job, makes the individual invisible or non-existing to society and the system. As Kurtović states, they become a "surplus population of interest to no one" (2021, p. 887). Marginalised and vulnerable groups experiencing poverty and struggling to survive, people experiencing homelessness and the undocumented fall into the category of invisible individuals whose efforts remain concealed. To illustrate, the Dutch artist and filmmaker Renzo Martens uses what could be considered a case study of extreme impoverishment and homelessness by the system in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Martens points out the issue with a generally satirical tone by drawing the underlying notion of racial supremacy and colonialism into the equation. A white male from a developed world, such as the Netherlands, visiting a labour and resource-exploited underdeveloped country, such as DR Congo, that has the means to tap into unsettling realities of the poor and then escape back into a cradling reality speaks about fundamental differences that linger from the former systems - the white male is a spectator. As Martens shows in Episode III: Enjoy Poverty (2008), the distinction between slavery and the capitalist labour force seems vague, and the exploitative objectives are repackaged under a new name. The white man and non-governmental organisations) is still a righteous saviour, a teacher, now the job provider, whose personal gains are of primary interest, and his labourers' malnourished and dying children are a statistical number. This example shows how an acquired employment status does not guarantee security and provision for the worker's basic needs; instead, it displays how flawed the concept of neoliberal policy is where the individual is minimised, overcast and translated into data.

Moreover, not ensuring sustenance for oneself, in the general viewing of neoliberalism, is also considered an option insofar that death poses as a part of freedom and a plausible course of action. The strain theory by Zhang 2019, quoted in Eskin and Baydar, 2022, p. 350) observes the man on a micro-level while considering how stress can lead to a deterministic way of thinking where suicide is taken as an option and as a workable solution to individual failure resulting from not achieving (neoliberal) specific values. This theory gives non-existing a literal meaning.

To say one's sustenance depends simply on the ability to keep a job is instead a narrow view. The issue of individual recognition in the perpetually exploitative contemporary capitalistic settings is that a person is understood as a numerical figure with all kinds of freedoms, including the one that defines failure and self-death as a choice and not a product of complex social circumstances.

While migrations unfold and the numerous reasons behind them are based on diverse life experiences, the agency of migration has a different meaning for society and individuals, depending on which scale it is observed. In a broader sense, migration is considered to aid in the development and transformation of a global community by supporting the worldwide market and labour force; however, it is also recognised as a damaging process “that started with European colonial expansion in the 16th century” (Castles, quoted in Delgado Wise, 2023, p. 315). In this regard, international migration provides straightforward means of acquiring a labour force to the destination country, assuming it synchronously benefits the undeveloped land from which the individual emigrates. On the other hand, the change in the physical and social scene demands that one undergoes readjustment to the new conditions. What happens to the identity in moving from here to there is that it changes the context. As Delgado Wise notes, the individual is seen as an agent; moreover, a hero to the country of origin, involved in bettering the state of poverty through remittances, yet in contrast, they are stigmatised as a cultural and racially polluting problem to the countries of transit and destination. One’s identity is perceived in two ways - positive and negative, and now operates in two contexts, still existing there and here.

For an example of a national identity that underwent complex socio-political changes and is facing the issue of mass emigration - existing here and there, with well over half of million people emigrating from 2013 to 2019 (Boracié, quoted in Kurtović, 2021), I call attention to what now can be considered an enclaved European identity in Balkan on the border between the West and the East. Throughout history and with the arrival of the Ottoman Empire to Europe, the Bosnian identity formed out of the remains of previous Slavic tradition, the Bosnian Church (the division of the Catholic Church) and what was then a new religion, Islam (Lopasic, 1981). This umbrella term today denotes a group of ethnic identities whose primary determinant remains religion, as noted by Alexander Lopasic but contrasting to the initial definition of a Muslim-only community, now inclusive of Bosnian Muslims (Bosniaks), Bosnian Croats, and Bosnian Serbs. With statistical data from the 17th century, where 67 per cent of the Muslim peasant population was "blond and blue-eyed", Lopasic (1981, p.117) hints at the ambiguity of the Bosnian identity in the 21st century: to be considered or declared as White (European) yet to be Muslim by birth. The perception of identity becomes problematic not only in a broader scope due to the duplicity of definitions in the eyes of the majority but also in one's understanding.

Furthermore, the Bosnian Girl (2003) by Šejla Kamerić connects this issue with another category - gender. The visual artwork shows an identity stigmatised in the eyes of the Western world. While the original inscribed comment on the walls of a former battery factory - UN base in Srebrenica during the last Balkan conflict, was intended for a member of the Muslim (Bosniak rather than Bosnian) community, it shows how the conception of gender and female body connects to Bosnian national identity primarily through the lens of a white male from the Western world, the deployed Dutch soldier. In its greater understanding, the work searches for visibility of national, ethnic, and gender identity in what is traditionally known as an exclusively Christian, white-male-dominated European setting. The issue of acknowledgement then extends from being white and Muslim to being white and a Muslim woman.

Although intricately tied to ethnic identification in some cases, such as Bosnian, the alterable element of identity is the religious determinant. As a demographic factor, it is observed in migration influences in the study by Monica Roman (2020) that looks at the current trend of voluntary, permanent emigrations in recent years from Balkan countries, Bulgaria, Romania, Croatia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina, connected to the the young population’s religious beliefs. The findings showed that the level of immersion in tradition and the firm establishment of religion in geographical territory plays a role in emigration likeliness: less involvement in religious groups positively correlates to the inclination to leave their native lands. Along the same line and regardless of forceful war and postwar migrations in the '90s, the trend of leaving the country continued in the form of labour migration as an after-effect of post-socialist restructuring due to the scarcity of jobs and social support rather than a postwar effect only (Kurtović, 2021). What is driving people away from a sense of belonging to a specific identity, on the one hand, could be appointed to already existing bases of the identity itself; however, this should also be credited to a new but damaged social and political setup - from communist to socialist to democratic, post-war democratic, that creates "unwillingness to self-exploit in the fickle and unrewarding local economy" (Kurtović, 2021, p. 881).

Those pursuing self-actualisation beyond the identity marked by their genetic (misfortune resolve to abandon a part of their acquired identity in favour of a transformational possibility elsewhere. People are prepared to be exploited by the system only if there is something personally beneficial in return - safety, opportunity, or purpose.

Looking deeper, recognising one's purpose in a society heavily depends not only on performing a job - work as a way to find meaning (Kunst, 2015), but also on having material evidence, a contract, to document the employment - "protect yourself with a contract" (Industria, 2023, p. 80). This is a carrot on the stick the illegal workers chase, be they (un) documented immigrants prepared to do any job or citizens of the regions where they are exploited for minimum or below minimum wages, such as the ones working on the plantations in DR Congo, as Martens shows. What happens to the work or activity not directly regulated by contracts or determined by economic value? Do these go unnoticed; are they invisible?

The answer is most apparent in the cases of exploited manual labourers; however, this category would not be complete without an independent woman that works two jobs, one for which she is waged and the other that is naturally implied as her motherhood (Kunst, 2015), nor without the artist. As an analogy, domestic labour's invisibility compares to artistic labour's (Praznik, 2020), where both types are undistinguished between working and daily life. This assimilation of working time and private time as the basis of capitalism today (Boltanski and Chiapello, quoted in Kunst, 2015, p. 139) intensifies women's and artists' already tricky positions. Similarly to a woman's multifaceted ability, the artist who now takes on many roles in producing, promoting and showcasing their artistic work becomes what Kunst identifies in Chapter The Visibility of Work as an ideal worker of capitalism. The ideal worker is confronted with the issue of invisibility, underpayment, and exploitation by the institutions that take advantage of the artist through free, unpaid internships and residencies (Kunst, 2015). Recent data shows the artist, specifically in the UK, gets paid £2.60 per hour (Industria, 2023), placing the artist on the margin of visibility.

In the essay Wages for and Against art work (2020), Praznik acknowledges the complexities of the political and economic system of the contemporary world and stresses the necessity of its change and reevaluation of its values. The author draws on the need to demand fair wages for artists as a solution, although these efforts seem overly optimistic. Nonetheless, the question is if our dissatisfaction diminishes when the pay issue resolves. In Žižek's Laconian view, dissatisfaction is the driving force (towards better pay, or pay in the general sense); it is the excess, 'object cause of desire', without which the class struggle would become insignificant if not non-existent altogether - in theory, of course. This discontent in art terms is a tension that regulates creative practices (Kunst, 2015, 25) and puts the artist at the forefront of the fight for fair social treatment.

Similarly, an idea for the resolution of artistic work and work visibility can be found across fine art and applied arts fields in the thinking of Italian artist Michelangelo Pistoletto and the American futurist Jaques Fresco. It lies in their approach to and solution for the current human state. Both taking an interdisciplinary stance with an interest in all spheres of social life (economy, politics, architecture, education, art, science), Pistoletto and Fresco underline the necessity for overall rethinking (possibly completely changing or dismissing) of values that govern our lives. Kunst says, "life must escape the capitalist processes of exploitation" (2015, p. 150). Still, once again, such endeavour and belief in betterment appear to exist more like a Sisyphus struggle than it is within reach.

“Being an artist is not a good business plan.” - Bove, quoted in Abramović, 2015, p. 57

It all starts with a good plan, not just any plan but a business one. In capitalism, artists, inseparably as participators, have a unique position where they can (in all probability) choose to which degree they desire their creative careers to be engaged in a system favouring business strategies over any other goals. The living/career achievability reflects in three possible options: reject, accept, or adjust while offering alternatives to what the societal and art structure provides.

Personal motivation and frustration produced by the unfair treatment of society drive artists (and have done so throughout history) to offer opposition to the imposed while aspiring to make a change for the human condition. Although individual thinking and expression are present in art, it does not tolerate competition equally as capitalism does; rivalry is genuinely distant from the spirit of it. The end goals are disparate; however, the capitalist conditions and rules suit art to fit the mould. In Kunst's view (2015, pp. 6-18), art is less likely to bring any change; it is powerless; even if it is political and visible, there is always the potential for commercialisation. In theory, this notion of self-directed social change is straightforward and plausible; practically, the struggle is far more complex as it is "easier to imagine the end of the world rather than a modest change of capitalism" (Žižek, 2005) even through art, which is why attempts to rebel results in compliance with the system (Kunst, 2015 p. 24).

Considering "an artist should not compromise himself with regard to the art market" nor "treat his work schedule as a bank employee does" (Abramović, 2015, pp. 8-10), the first approach would include attempting to discard the system's regulation altogether by creating work that is difficult to be commodified, curated, or profitable. As the market value of creative output is already considered speculative and falls under the supervision of institutions such as auction houses or galleries (Bahtsetzis, 2012), an artist may rebel against any profit-driven or policed form of artistic practice. Revolt is achieved by intentionally using alternative and extreme medium choices, for example, pavement chewing gums as painting canvases by Ben Wilson that are physically unmarketable, or by making the work impermanent or inaccessible with instances in live art and land art, but most notably in artivism and Banksy's work. This course of action is not entirely pragmatic as it still pushes the artist to look for other ways of sustenance that adhere to the capitalist view of making and living rather than making any discernible change to society.

In contrast, the artist is free to operate within the constraints of the market needs or trends to gain control over their sustenance and visibility. Hence, this is where art meets a specific commercial role and trades for financial gain. Through capitalism, art is stipulated as a commodity of information, a 'semiocapital' (Berardi quoted in Bahtsetzis. 2012), and as such, it contracts to overproduction regardless of its content (Bahtsetzis. 2012). While complying with the demands and trends of the market suggests art is closely tied to consumerism and becomes a commodity, the artist's labour is still unrecognised, even with the amount of work undertaken in making and promoting the created. In Marxist terms, the workforce (artist) is of great importance and, at the same time, exploited, often undervalued and underpaid (Praznik, 2020). Aside from the probability of compromising one's artistic integrity for profit, artists' underpayment and invisibility bring us back to the previous presumption that they deliberately attempt to distance themselves from consumerist tendencies in their creative practices to rebel against today's capitalism. To which degree they succumb to its regulation is a matter of the individual.

The most realistic recourse encourages adjustment to the system yet nourishes the potential of demanding changes and offering alternatives. It is a way of rebelling by working with the system rather than against it. Among many examples, l inspect the life and work of Bryan Catling, an artist, a professor, and a writer. While the multi-tasking nature of an artist is commonly accepted by now, what is interesting in Catling's example is the choice of typical materials found in everyday life and how they are used. His quote, "power and money... once you take those things out, you get a fantastically rich palette to work with" (DiMarco Documentaries, 2022), describes shifting the focus from the material to the idea. Rather than producing sellable, Catling creates an experience for the spectators through performance, even if it may be established by chance or a set of circumstances - as was the case with On Touching And Haunting A Noble Silent Room, 1986, in Copenhagen. This thought confirms the notion that art "can result from a total coincidence or failure" (Kunst, 2015, p. 191), and it implies that the artist engages in alternative forms of making and displaying with unconventional methods and materials. In this way, the artist makes the most out of all their roles while deflecting from the industry by looking into the cracks and crevices of social and art institutions.

As noted throughout the essay, my incline towards the importance of the idea, rather than its encapsulating form, led me to think of conceptual art not only as a challenge to the definitions of traditional art but also to the global capitalist system of production. Namely, performance in conceptual art becomes a perfect example of what does not give a final product (Kunst, 2015, p. 136); hence the question of art's usefulness always reappears.

However, neoliberal tendencies have instilled the belief in the constant pursuit of usefulness and transformation (of the individual and the society) in art potential. For that matter, it is evident in works of contemporary artists such as Pistoletto, Nauman, and Abramović, to name a few, who implicitly or explicitly promise a metamorphosis that starts from themselves and is achievable by the others. This transformation by art is made possible on a broader scale through a political dimension created by the opposing force of social conditions and the individual experience, or in Bataille's terms: the negativity is what drives transformation (quoted in Kunst, 2015, p. 20).

In the chapter Why is art so boring?, Alva Noë unveils how, by creating a place/state for perception, art can interrupt the daily and allow for the mentioned self-transformation (2015, p. 115). Noë challenges the idea of experiencing and perceiving art as enjoyable and underlines that art should not be as such, as pleasure leaves one unmotivated for change. Instead, it is discomfort that leads to questioning and conscious understanding. Indeed, if one does experience a constant state without the negative, how can one strive to change if there is nothing to compare it to? Nevertheless, the question arises if art has to stand as transformational or seen as useful in the first place.

The artist Mladen Stilinović (Kunst, 2015, pp. 183-188) answers this by juxtaposing definitions and processes of artists from two sequential systems, the socialist in the East and the capitalist in the West. In the former case, the artist was not visible due to a lack of employment helpful to society and a lack of art institutions that would provide work; therefore, the artist would "wastefully consume [time]" (Kunst, 2015, p. 184) and is destined to be perceived as lazy by the system. Contrary to this, Stilinović further argues that the artist in capitalism has no time to be lazy and no time to engage with art thinking and making entirely since they operate in many different positions rather than the one they need to be taking as artists. In this respect, the artist should be allowed to make useless art embedded with "mistakes, minimum effort, coincidence, duration, passivity" (Kunst, 2015, p. 79).

I have started doing the opposite of speed and over-production that the times favour. In practice, I take time to perform handwritten labour over a long period. This physical trace of work, the hand-stitching, poses' as means for thinking about oneself, one's place in the world, and ... for constructing concepts that move outwards from oneself' (Maharaj, 2001, quoted in Dormor, 2018, p. 5). It is uneasy for anyone to spend hours completing a task that seems useless to the public, such as unpicking the stitched, as it lacks economic value. Nevertheless, the amount of physical and emotional labour involved is generous, to say the least, and the process is a temporary stop from the daily rather than a transformation.

Although including assigned identifiers by birth, in a neoliberal view, an individual's identity is ever-changing and has endless possibilities for realisation. Such a conception bears the question of uncertainty that the system appears to use well to its advantage: it detects the individual only in terms of what they do, exploiting and leaving them underpaid and on the verge of existence. Trenched with the promise of transformation, it is up to homo viator to find a way between what they are and what they do.