Medusa. Pablo. An Essay.
Creator: Michelangelo Caravaggio 1596-97 | Credit: Wikimedia Commons
“I’ve crossed many hells, crashed through many rings of fire. But this is a more hopeful outlook on this joyful disease that is art.”
Today, I feel hopeful.
Here’s why.
As a creative, growth can manifest in various forms: some artists double down on their effort to be known, others give up to pursue a more fulfilling career or protect their mental health.
Yet there, at the crossroads of life-altering decisions, others just… create. Without the burden of commercial appeal and shiny riches.
This is the path I’ve been taking for two years now. Here’s my essay on what making art truly entails, and why I chose to revisit my expectations.
Ladies and gentlemen, happy reading.
“Creatives are athletes. They train every day to maximize their output—through a brush stroke, a pen glide, or a script. They view the world through a lens (sometimes in the most literal sense) and seek to lay out the purest expression of their soul.
We stretch our brain cells to face impossible challenges, to defy the laws of physics and build incredibly complex worlds. This is maddening at times, like a track & field sensation that can’t cover a 100-meter section under 10 seconds. Or a soccer prodigy that suffers bad luck when in pursuit of the World Cup.
And like many athletes, us creative writers also experience breaking points and pivotal stages of our careers that demand of us to make a decision: whether to sink further into madness or give up. In this ultra-competitive industry (publishing), it seems those are the only viable options.
What’s an author without readers? An artist without accolades and a substantial financial reward that allows them to create bigger, better things in a more suitable setting?
In all actuality, that’s not true.
Those questions above are shaped by a certain thought process—a catastrophizing framework that associates art with financial and exposure incentives (with the ever-present ticking of an imaginary clock). Reality is… most great art is created in the utmost anonymity. It is a composite of therapeutic outlets, majestic impulses, visions from feverish dreams. It is not planned or quantified.
A couple of years ago, I experienced something transformative. I had invested thousands of dollars in the promotion of my latest novel, confident I would get a massive return on investment and become a literary behemoth. I pictured myself taking sunny strolls in the city that never sleeps, romanticizing a life on the Upper East Side or Park Slope. I was running the rat race, convinced that working harder automatically translated into success. My brand is strong, visible, my website fun and appealing, my catalogue diverse…
Well, let this be a cautionary tale: success is not tied to the quality of your work or your ethics. Sorry to burst your bubble, but this is bullshit fed to us by the few who have succeeded and their survivor bias.
Many talentless or uninspired artists will swim in riches before you can consider funding a meal with your last royalties. Not everyone is preoccupied with the actual value of a piece. Some people just like to follow trends to get a sense of belonging. Others were never exposed to classical art and see it more as a form of entertainment than enlightenment. And with the ever-increasing presence of social media, it’s an upward trend.
And guess what I realized after I lost thousands with very little results and stood at the edge of a vertigo-inducing depression? That it was OK.
You can’t change an entire system. You can’t fault others. You can’t yell at the world and ask: SEE ME! HEAR ME!
Because the truth is… this is the fastest way to push your potential audience away. Making art is selfless. It is simply bringing an additional piece to the puzzle, letting others find a spot to fill.
You have no control over people’s reactions, thought processes, or interpretation.
There, I chose to revise my positions: I’m no longer chasing validation—I just make great art. The rest is out of my hands.
I accepted that my 9–5 may become a long-term career. That storytelling may remain a hobby. And although I still treat the process of planning and executing a novel as a job, I no longer carry the burden of obsessing over an elusive commercial breakthrough.
What’s peer comparison? Fuck that. All these rich kids on social have you fooled thinking you’re late to the party. Your worth does not reside in your net worth. That’s just vanity, an illusion, a construct we’ve built to give the “American Dream” some sort of legitimate ground.
It’s all bullshit. Create. Share your light with the world. Become an agent of change, at whatever scale you operate within. Making the world a better place does not necessarily require a systemic shift. It’s a simple compliment, a “hello,” an article that will resonate with an individual that contemplated giving up on life…
Art is more than metrics and financial statements. It’s singular, unique, and emotional. And it’s needed.
Don’t quit. The world needs you. And no amount of followers, dollars, or awards will ever outmatch that longing.
Life is art. Art is life. Therefore, you are both.
Medusa. Pablo.”
