Chapter 10 of potential hindrances to our creative development continued…

For now, I’ll be treading in the shadowy waters of this presupposition so that we can get a good look at all sorts of damming resistance. This will probably make things seem really futile for a bit but I’ll get to the flip side eventually, so don’t despair.  

Perhaps you’re wondering if you’ve really bought in to the starving artist stereotype/archetype. Have you carried the deep desire to pursue your creative potential but then back-burnered it out of fear or doubt and then went with a practical career? Have you been told you have been ‘blessed’ with a gift and should share it freely (as in, for free)? Have you ever been asked to share your talents and then hesitated or felt guilty about asking for payment? Have you found yourself low-balling your creative work or do you tend to meet potential investors that want to barter for a deal? Are you worried that taking money will corrupt your artistic expression or dissolve your inspiration?

I hate to admit that I have answered yes to all of these at some point (consciously and most likely unconsciously). The last one has an especially shroudlike effect for me because I’m still fairly convinced that if I take someone’s money, I have to do what they say or make them happy. In the daily hum I am accustomed to compromise so I tend to emphatically guard my freedom in my art practice. But even when I see past this paranoia of having to do what someone says, I am met with the concern that if I stay true to the integrity of my work and this rubs someone the wrong way, I’ll be pegged with the reputation of a ‘difficult’ artist— one who is perceived as entitled, too proud or pretentious. A part of me is aware that this is just a perception but it still inflicts doubt and hesitation in my process and it’s not completely unfounded.  

I’m sure you’ve heard at least a few stories about artists acting like hot-shit divas with ludicrous (but also pretty funny) demands— like Van Halen allegedly insisting that all the brown M&M’s be removed from the group’s candy bowl. The existence of badly behaved artists (relative to views of propriety) is a thing but there’s another side to it. Sometimes music labels, choreographers, curators, galleries etc. give the impression that they are doing artists a favour (publicity/exposure or something) and therefore are entitled to exercise considerable power over them (or get something for free). I have close friends who have recently been told by particular curators to change their material choices or how their work is displayed— in a way that completely alters it. These artists debated compromising their work considerably (and their reasons for making it) to avoid a ‘difficult artist’ standing that might affect future opportunities. 

Section of the ‘Last Judgment’ painted on the altar wall of the Sistine Chapel between 1534 and 1541.

Exploitation of artists and their work has a substantial history. Before the 19th century, European artists were usually employed by either the church or the court and were merely servants to aristocratic circles. Michelangelo was commanded to paint the Sistine Chapel (even though he was a sculptor) and in the ‘Last Judgement’ part of this project he appears to share some feelings about this by rendering himself as the skin of St. Bartholomew. Apparently it wasn’t the only time he expressed his identification with the martyr and once admitted, “Painting and Sculpture, hard work and fair dealing have been my ruin and things go continually from bad to worse. I would have been better had I been put to making matches in my youth, than to be in such a fret!” 

Then in the 19th century (again, in Europe) we see artists claiming more autonomy but then having to choose between food and their work. Maybe this was a necessary sacrifice at this time in history for art to get beyond the tastes of the church and court. It’s fairly common knowledge that Vincent van Gogh sold very little in his lifetime but it may surprise you how many of the modernist painters (whose work cost millions today) had to scrape by for their creative expression. Claude Monet didn’t have it easy: “I am literally penniless here, obliged to petition people, almost to beg for my keep, not having a penny to buy canvas and paints” and neither did Edgar Degas, who sounds like he had to give up time and energy for a day job: “Your pictures would have been finished a long time ago if I were not forced every day to do something to earn money.”

While there’s truth held in these narratives, it’s a real detriment when we allow them to deliver a static mindset that assumes creativity and scarcity must go hand and hand— or that we’re fated to the dilemma of choosing between a life of struggle as our authentic selves or finding a job that pays well. Perhaps recognizing that artists in the past have faced the the challenge of sacrificing their well-being for their work can help us evolve past our own limitations of a victim level perception. They all had their belief baggage to influence their reality just as we do.

Auguste Renoir was working around the same time as Monet and Degas and although he struggled financially early on in his life he preferred to see it as, “Life is much more fun when you have to worry about money coming in.” From this perspective it may be worth exploring the potential of creative delving while living with less. Depending on our individual experience and attitude, being too comfortable may actually be distracting and detrimental to our expression.

I don’t mean to give the impression that we need to compare the lives and struggles of past artists with each other or with ourselves. I only want to give attention to the potential influences of our own thoughts and the derailing power of past narratives that often come at us through the advice and opinions of others. I can’t help wondering— when did I start worrying about having to choose between being perceived as a diva or living like a stray dog? Are those the only options in this realm of unlimited possibility? Do I have to take a side?

Somehow, the French got this idea of the starving artist. Very romantic, except it’s not so romantic for the starving artist. 

~DAVID LYNCH

[Title gif: Jack Nicholson in the 1975 film, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.’]

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