“You might think we would be tempted to scribble something on a napkin to pay our taxes,” said Miguel Calderón, 38, a Mexico City native whose paintings were featured in Wes Anderson’s 2001 film The Royal Tenenbaums. “But aside from being convenient, it is also a source of pride, knowing that your art will become part of a historic collection that reflects Mexico’s creative heritage.”

Mexico is one of several countries seeking to support the arts through tax incentives, which range from direct subsidies to tax credits for donations to organizations dedicated to the arts (as is the case in the United States). Last year, the United Kingdom implemented a Cultural Gifts Scheme that allows individuals and corporations to donate artwork—defined as “any picture, print, book, manuscript, work of art, scientific object, or other thing which … is pre-eminent for its national, scientific, historic or artistic interest”—in exchange for a reduction in income tax and capital-gains liability. In 2012-13, tax reductions through the program totaled more than $536,000.

According to John O’Hagan, an economics professor at Trinity College in Dublin, “one of the arguments used most frequently in relation to tax subsidies to the arts relates to national identity.” And in Mexico, the arts have long been associated with national identity. “Murals were how Mexican history was first portrayed to the public,” said José Ramón San Cristóbal Larrea, director of the government’s Cultural Promotion and National Heritage Office. “A country’s culture and its understanding of itself evolve through its art. And that’s something we are in need of, especially now.”

Yet in the face of a global recession, some countries have reduced tax incentives for the arts. Ireland, for example, first offered a tax exemption to those working on a book, play, musical composition, painting, or sculpture in 1962. But when resources wore thin in 2009, the country overhauled its tax system, lowering the cap on tax-free earnings for artists to $55,000 from $344,000. In 2010, one of every 10 artists who applied to the program was turned away. In 2012, that number was three out of 10.

Mexican officials have never calculated the tax revenue lost to the Pago en Especie—a fact that could complicate any economic argument calling for its abolishment. Unlike its counterparts in the United Kingdom and Ireland, the SAT has never appraised the artwork it receives in financial terms. The number of pieces in its possession is the only statistic that the SAT records. In recent years, the government agency has been forced to purchase additional warehouses in Mexico City to store an ever-growing collection of paintings, graphics, and sculptures.

“This program has been a creative way to get artists to participate in the system, and the benefits have reached far beyond Mexico,” said Antonio Sandoval López, a tax lawyer specializing in the arts. He doesn’t foresee the program being cut any time soon, and not only because of its popularity. “The truth is, before, most artists simply didn’t pay their taxes.”

Back in his studio, Gritón touches up his latest in a series of conceptual nudes. “This has been the year of naked people,” he said, referring to 2013. “But I’ve never really stuck to one style. I started out dark and angry, went into a naive phase, then did weird things … and now I’m back to abstract.” On his canvas, an assortment of bright shapes bend to fit with one another, each following the lines of the model that sat for the original sketch.

“I hope they don’t do away with this program,” he said. “It’s been a really positive thing.” And yet he knows, as well as anyone, that an end to Pago en Especie could simply add 700 artists to the ranks of those Mexicans who have never paid the taxman much heed.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.