Art and Commerce in Cleopatra and Frankenstein

Thematic Claim

The tension between creative ambition and commercial success is a driving force in Cleopatra and Frankenstein. Coco Mellors explores how characters navigate the pressure to monetize their artistic gifts while preserving authenticity. The novel argues that art and commerce are not simple opposites—each character is forced to trade something of themselves to survive or succeed, and those transactions leave permanent marks on their work and relationships.

Cleo’s Paintings: The Cost of Freedom

Cleo enters the novel as a painter who supports her art by working part-time in textile design. During her first night with Frank, she describes her creative process as a messy upheaval that eventually clicks into order—but that clarity lasts only seconds before the next piece demands her attention. Her work is genuine, yet she is chronically broke, her student visa expiring, her future uncertain. Frank’s offer to fly to Mexico City the next week presents a contradiction: she wants to see Frida Kahlo’s house, but accepting the trip feels like accepting a transaction.

Their argument on Elizabeth Street cuts to the theme. Cleo accuses Frank of trying to buy her; he counters that she wants the benefit of his money without the strings. The exchange reveals that even the most sincere connection between an artist and a financially comfortable admirer is tangled in commerce. Cleo ultimately accepts his offer—not as a purchase, but as a gesture of seeing together. Yet the episode establishes a pattern: her ability to create depends on someone else’s capital.

Later, when Anders accidentally bids twelve thousand dollars on her painting at a benefit auction, Cleo’s reaction splits along artistic and commercial lines. She is thrilled that someone “believed” in her work enough to pay that sum, yet she learns the money goes to bird conservation, not her. The price tag becomes a form of social currency—it raises her reputation without providing material reward. Anders, a photographer who has built a career on commercial work, is furious that his money went to “bird-watchers,” revealing his expectation that commerce should directly benefit the creator. Cleo, meanwhile, feels validated by the price itself, suggesting that even an artist who scoffs at selling out still craves market proof of her worth.

Frank’s Advertising: The Artist Who Sells Out to Stay In

Frank’s profession as an advertising executive embodies the commercial side of the tension. He tells Cleo that his agency is “where the people who don’t make it as writers go.” He creates ads—monsters, as he jokes—but he also possesses a genuine appreciation for art. He recites poetry, knows about Kahlo’s house, and can quote Larkin. Yet his creative energy is funneled into selling products, not making art. The novel does not condemn him for this; instead, it shows how his competitive drive (he “has to win”) comes from a need to prove himself after never attending college.

In Chapter 7, set in late September, Frank is stressed about work—over budget, forced to hire a copywriter because she is a woman. Cleo asks if he is okay generally, not professionally, but he dodges. His identity is so wrapped up in commercial success that he cannot separate his well-being from his agency’s performance. When the American at dinner remarks that Frank’s “thing” is needing to win, Cleo sees how this need warps his interactions. Frank later admits he took a dangerous bet because “it’s a damn good story”—he privileges narrative and image over safety, a remnant of the artist buried inside the ad man.

Anders’ Photography: Commerce as Compromise

Anders is a photographer who works for a magazine and attends art auctions as part of his professional networking. He is tired of the “parade of beautiful creatures” he sleeps with, and of himself. His profession requires him to constantly evaluate art for market appeal rather than personal resonance. When he bids on Cleo’s painting, he does so partly out of guilt (he slept with her and disappeared) and partly out of drunken generosity. The fact that the bid becomes the price-setting mechanism illustrates how commerce can hijack intention. Anders never meant to pay twelve thousand dollars, yet the mistake becomes a public statement of her value.

His photography is never described as a pure art form; it is always tied to assignments, magazines, and social scenes. He represents a path Cleo could take: adapt your vision to a market that pays. His discontent suggests that commercial success alone does not satisfy the artistic soul.

Danny Life’s Exhibition: The Sell-Out Question

Danny Life, Cleo’s former classmate, has achieved massive commercial success with his show Deathly Revelations. The event is sponsored by real estate developers who want to rebrand Randall’s Island. Danny’s art is literally packaged for luxury towers. In the trailer, he drinks sponsor champagne and eats from the “largest bag of potato chips” Cleo’s ever seen. He asks her point-blank: “You think I sold out?” Cleo replies, “I think you sold.” She distinguishes between selling (the act of commerce) and selling out (abandoning integrity). Danny fears becoming the next Basquiat, a figure who succeeded commercially but died amid exploitation.

Cleo later participates in his anarchic destruction of the ice sculpture—a piece of art that was itself a corporate sponsorship artifact. Smashing the sculpture becomes a cathartic rejection of commodified art. But she also keeps the crystal chandelier pendant he gives her, a glittering object that represents both artistic camaraderie and the seductive shine of money. The episode leaves a question: can an artist use commerce without being used by it?

Complexity and Contradiction

None of these characters achieves a clean resolution between art and commerce. Cleo ends the novel creating the installation Life Lines—a deeply personal work about her suicide attempt—at a Rome residency funded by an institution. The institution provides the space and resources; her art remains raw and uncensored. This suggests that institutional support can exist without corrupting vision, as long as the artist maintains authority over content.

Frank, newly sober and dating Eleanor, still works in advertising but has begun to confront his emotional limits. His visit to Cleo in Rome shows that he values her as an artist, not as a commercial prospect. The novel ends with a murmuration of starlings—a natural phenomenon that cannot be bought or sold, a piece of pure beauty. Frank tells Cleo she is one of the five people he watches, tying her artistic identity to his deepest attention, unmediated by commerce.

Yet the author’s note (included as Chapter 20) reminds us that the novel itself is a commercial product, and Coco Mellors is an author with an MFA and a publisher. The boundary between story and reality blurs, inviting readers to consider how the book in their hands exists at the intersection of art and commerce.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Cleo’s textile design job function in the theme of art and commerce? It provides her with necessary income and free time to paint, but it also commodifies her creativity into a marketable product. The job allows her to live in New York and maintain her studio, yet it reinforces the reality that she cannot support herself through fine art alone. The novel presents this as a common, imperfect compromise for emerging artists.

2. What does the accidental twelve-thousand-dollar bid reveal about the relationship between artistic value and market price? The bid is a drunken mistake, yet it sets a public price for Cleo’s work. Anders did not intend to value her art at that level, but the market (auction) treats the number as meaningful. This shows that artistic value is often arbitrary and contingent on social context, not inherent quality.

3. How does Frank’s job in advertising complicate the novel’s view of commerce? Frank is both a commercial creator and a genuine art appreciator. The novel does not villainize him for making ads; instead, it shows how his competitive drive and avoidance of vulnerability are shaped by a career that rewards winning over expression. His story suggests that commerce can co-opt creative impulses without destroying them entirely.

4. Why does Cleo tell Danny he “sold” rather than “sold out”? She distinguishes between selling work (an exchange of product for money) and selling out (abandoning artistic integrity for gain). Danny has sold his art to sponsors and developers, but he still has moments of anarchic freedom—smashing his own sculpture. Cleo implies that the act of selling does not automatically corrupt the artist; intention and self-awareness matter more.

5. What role does the murmuration of starlings play in the art-commerce theme? The murmuration is a natural phenomenon that exists outside any market. Frank identifies Cleo as one of the five people he watches, framing her as someone he values for her essential self, not her commercial output. The image offers a counterpoint to the novel’s many transactions: a moment of pure connection that cannot be bought or sold.