Writing for love and money - it's kind of the same thing

There are so many contradictions to being an artist or creative, but one self-destructive construct is that you have to work for free to earn credibility, but then you’re a sellout when you put a price to you work. Excuse my poetic French, but fuck that noise. Artistic integrity doesn’t come at the expense of earning a living.

Leonard didn’t buy the diatribe that earning from your art meant it didn’t have heart and soul in it. He knew his worth and it was wrapped in unwavering love for his craft. He knew that money funded his love, not in ways material, but in ways experiential: He lived for 7 years in an artist colony on the Greek island of Hydra at the peak of the Bohemian 70’s.

Sylvia ate men like air, but she also longed for more money…

“…* to learn that money makes life smooth in some ways, and to feel how tight and threadbare life is if you have too little. * to despise money, which is a farce, mere paper, and to hate what you have to do for it, and yet to long to have it in order to be free from slaving for it. * to yearn toward art, music, ballet and good books, and get them only in tantalizing snatches.”

Having money meant she could immerse in the culture she loved and arrive more deeply into her artistry for having enriching experiences she could muse upon. This, from her journals, indicates she had times where she was starved of culture and longed to experience the arts. The creative mind thrives on immersive input.

Consider that love and money are kind of the same thing? Let that sit uncomfortably for a few minutes and then adjust your perspective on what your work is worth. Your love deserves it and your future artistry depends on being inspired by what you can do as a funded creative: live, grow, play.

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