The Starving Artist

One of the most pervasive and pernicious concepts accepted by both artists and listeners alike is the concept of the starving artist. The character of the starving or tortured artist is portrayed in films, novels, etc. It lives in our culture’s collective consciousness. 

Many believe that artists must sacrifice their material well-being for their art. Parents dissuade their children from being artists, convinced that they will be destitute. 

Artists often pursue bohemian lifestyles, dress unconventionally, or overuse substances with the (conscious or unconscious) hope that this will somehow improve their art. Social media is filled with artists who appear eccentric and interesting, but may not have not dedicated sufficient time to developing their craft. 

Audiences often have a greater appreciation for starving artists. Van Gogh’s work went entirely unnoticed until Johanna van Gogh-Bonger, his widowed sister-in-law, published his harrowing life story. Michelangelo famously presented himself as a starving artist to gain repute while secretly amassing a small fortune. 

Today, many poets on social media write about heartbreak or personal suffering in order to gain an audience. As a result, instapoetry has become increasingly one-note. Similarly, music that is more lo-fi, such as bedroom pop or SoundCloud rap, often relies on stock themes like unrequited love to convey emotion. The lo-fi aesthetic of the music, which is generally a consequence of having less resources, naturally compliments the image of the starving artist. (I’m as guilty of this as any other artist, evidenced by my somewhat blue discography.)

However, as Rick Rubin points out in his book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, suffering is not a prerequisite for great art. He writes, “Whether you have a powerful passion or a tortured compulsion, neither makes the art any better or worse. If you are able to choose between these paths, consider selecting the more sustainable one.”

The path of starving artists is certainly less sustainable. There’s a long list of artists and producers, including Frank Zappa, Bruce Springsteen, and Rick Rubin himself, who prioritized their health and well-being, and were able to have relatively long and successful careers. 

The book Daily Rituals by Mason Currey describes the routines of artists and visionaries. Perhaps the only shared qualities among the artists is that most drank coffee (which is generally regarded as healthy when drunk moderately) and worked consistently. Few of the artists fit the description of the starving artist. 

I recognize that a disproportionate number of artists lead difficult lives. Art and suffering seem to be correlated but not causally related. As Rick Rubin points out in The Creative Act, artists are often highly sensitive individuals and, therefore, prone to personal suffering and mental illness. In addition, artistic industries are oversaturated (and always will be) so many artists are not paid adequately for their work. Suffering is a byproduct of these financial and social constraints, not a condition for great art. 

If anything, suffering is often a detriment to artists as it prevents them from maintaining a consistent work routine. Ultimately, the best predictor of success as an artist is not whether they drink water or absinthe at night but whether they get up the next day and continue working.