The Ideal Of The Starving Artist

Ah, how romantic a life! Struggling, starving, suffering, slaving away in obscurity for the sake of art! To let go of modern trappings, to give oneself over to nothing but dreams and hope and insubstantial ideals!

The starving artist has been hailed and regaled in literature and media for as long as I can remember. And why not? Who can't identify with the starry eyed dreamer? Who doesn't feel some kinship with that person who is able to give themself over completely to their destiny? We all look at them and think, on some level, ah - if only!

But, like Farley Flavor's dream of the girl next door, the starving artist is indeed a fantasy ideal.

We aren't all Christians. We aren't living in the shade of the Moulin Rouge, courting beautiful ladies of the night and drinking the poet's wine. In reality, it's a miserable life. It's a life of stress and short fuses and long nights awake, ready to give up.

But we still do it. The writers, the artists, the musicians. We all throw ourselves into our dreams and we smile and laugh when people remark on our romantic, bohemian lives. We don't bother to mention the bills, the frustration, the mind-numbing repetition of searching for that one break. Come on, who wants to be a dream killer?

Well, I suppose I am, what with writing this and all. But I see these romanticized views of the poor writer's life and it makes me laugh. Because I did think that was what it would be like. I had visions of a crappy apartment, of second hand clothes and dumpster diving and spending late nights in a park with like-minded intellectuals. And I thought it would be wonderfully romantic!

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, as they say. I'm still waiting for my beautiful courtesan to be moved by my words. I'm still waiting for that brilliant flash of drunken inspiration. I'm still hoping that some kind person will send a little money my way, for no reason other than my art has reached them. Oh, I know these are all just silly dreams.

But what is a starving artist but a dreamer who never lets go?

If we let go of our dreams, we wouldn't be starving anymore. But we wouldn't be artists, either. It may not be romantic, but I plan to keep on suffering for the sake of my muse. Slowly but surely I'm making those dreams of mine a reality.

And who knows? I just may find that benefactor after all.

If I'm lucky, she'll be cute. ;)