THE TRUTH ABOUT "STARVING" ARTISTS (AND WRITERS, AND MUSICIANS)
By Dean M. Shapiro

Artists --- and writers -- and musicians --- are a strange breed. You already knew that. If they weren’t strange they wouldn’t be trying to paint, sculpt, write, sing, compose or play an instrument for a living. They'd be pursuing a more lucrative career in any one of hundreds of fields in the conventional workforce. They’d be working at a "real job" instead of a "hobby."

However, what makes them even stranger is that they yearn for success, respect, recognition and ample monetary compensation for their efforts, yet they seem to resent those in their fields who actually do achieve those goals. They want to be recognized as great artists, writers and musicians, yet they knock those who are successful -- the ones who are commercially successful. Aha . . . there’s the catch!

Here’s the proof:

If you are a LeRoy Neiman, a Thomas Kinkade or a George Rodrigue, you are not a "true artist" in the eyes of your peers. You are a "commercial artist." You’ve "sold out." You’re more interested in making lots of money and driving a big car than you are in creating a legacy of great art that will be hanging in museums centuries from now.

If you are a John Grisham, a Mary Higgins Clark or a Tom Clancy, you are not a "real writer" in the eyes of your peers. You are a "formula writer." You’ve "sold out." You’re more interested in making lots of money and driving a big car than you are in creating a legacy of great literature that will be read in classrooms centuries from now.

If you are a Kenny G, a Dave Koz or a Grover Washington, Jr. (God rest his soul), you are not a "real" jazz musician in the eyes of your peers. You are playing "elevator music." You’ve "sold out." You’re more interested in making lots of money and driving a big car than you are in creating a legacy of great music that will be listened to on sound reproduction machines centuries from now.

In the conventional world, we’re taught to respect success. We’re taught to emulate those who have achieved it. But, in the dyslexic "creative" world, the opposite appears to be true. There is something about success that is anathema to many of the "creators." If they are successful then somehow they’re thought of as having "sold out to the tastes of the masses." They’ve "gone commercial." In light of this seemingly bizarre dichotomy, is it any wonder why artists, writers and musicians are thought to be "strange" by many of those who inhabit the non-artistic, non-literary, non-musical sphere?

Or maybe there’s something more at work here than meets the eye, although it would seem obvious to most people. Perhaps there’s more than a little jealousy afoot.

How many times have you heard someone say, "Oh, I could write a better book than that." "I could paint a better picture than that." "I could play a better horn than that." Yes, maybe you could, but have you done it? Is that your name on the cover of that book, on the front of that CD or in the corner of that painting? If not, then that writer, artist or musician has created a better work than all of those who say they could do better. They’ve gone beyond talking about it. They’ve done it.

Over the past two centuries the story has been handed down that James Fenimore Cooper once read something he thought was awful and he commented, "I can write better than that." And he did. His Leatherstocking Tales were the result. But how often does that happen? Not very often, I would venture to guess.

I heard a song recently by I-Don’t-Know-Who (no, that’s not the name of a rapper; I honestly don’t know who it was) that was actually more of a snide, spoken word commentary than a song. Prominent among the lyrics were, "Kenny G; that ain’t jazz. Miles, Monk, Trane; now that’s jazz!" My question is, by whose definition?

If jazz were a static musical form, we’d still be listening to ragtime and that would be as far as it has ever progressed in the past hundred years. Fortunately, jazz is not static. It is constantly evolving and reinventing itself. Today we can still hear ragtime but we can also hear the dozen or so other jazz genres that have evolved since then. Yes, beyond question, Miles, Monk and Trane were giants of the jazz idiom, but they belonged to a specific time and genre. Naturally, every music lover is entitled to his or her individual tastes and favorites, but to insist that there has been no forward movement in jazz since the mid-’60s is to ignore reality. I liken it to trying to drive on a 70 MPH freeway while stuck in second gear. Or maybe the ostrich analogy would work better here.

Smooth jazz, as typified by Kenny G and others, simply represents the latest incarnation of a constantly evolving musical art form. However, each new evolution is seldom appreciated in its earliest years. It is derided by those whose loyalties are married to the previous genre. Those who are loathe to seeing their favorite music swept over by the next wave. Red Nichols, Louis Armstrong and Benny Goodman are revered and canonized in the jazz pantheon today. They were among the pioneers of the "Swing Era." However, in their early years, people who were used to Guy Lombardo’s "sweetest sounds this side of heaven" would hold their ears shut when these young upstarts blew their shrill notes. They were bombed by their earliest critics. Only over time did their musical styles evolve into widespread acceptance and emulation.

Could it be that those who resent Kenny G’s success also resent the fact that some of their favorite jazz musicians died young and poor?

I read an article recently about George Rodrigue, the "Blue Dog Man." He’s made millions of dollars on a single visual image that is recognized on every inhabited continent on earth. And he’s done it without commercializing that image on posters and T-shirts, despite the fact that he could make even more millions by doing so. This man seemingly has everything anyone could possibly strive for and he’s achieved that success as a visual artist. But, does he have the recognition and adulation of his peers? According to what I read, the answer is no and it will never be otherwise. At least not in his or our lifetimes.

So, until the arrival of the day when artists, writers and musicians start recognizing, appreciating and lauding the accomplishments of their more successful peers, they should stop using the "starving artist syndrome" as a crutch for their own lack of recognition. If they are starving . . . hey, guess what? . . . there could be a very valid explanation for it.

Return to Table of Contents