Do hardships and poverty breed good artists?

I’ve been an artist all my life. I’ve also been poor most of my life. Not homeless […but close a few times]. Briefly, I had money. I lost my dad to a drunk driver in 2001 and shortly thereafter received some life insurance money. Nothing personifies how poor I grew up than how fast I spent that money. People that never have money are notoriously bad with it once they do. 

I regularly listen to Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History while I draw and his recently episode “King Of Kings III” talks about the fall of The Achaemenid Persian Empire. How Xerxes was marked as the ruler of the Persian Empire during the start of it’s decline. To quote Dan Carlin.

“The idea that once upon a time, you have people who are poor and that their poverty makes them tough, and the toughness of their poverty, and the values and the discipline and Spartan lifestyle creates the kind of people who can conquer or amass territory to create an empire which brings in a lot of money and affluence. Eventually, you’ll hit this sweet spot where you have the best mixture of of the old rough honed discipline values that you had when you were poor, but also the cultural advancements that come with some affluence and leisure time. Then eventually the lifecycle of empires culminates with the downhill slope, what Voltaire called the wooden shoes going upstairs, silk slippers going downstairs. The luxury brings on decadence and decadence brings on softness,and luxury and weakness. In this survival of the fittest world, then you get taken over by the new poor people on the block who are tougher and more Spartan-like than you, who had the values your ancestors used to possess.”

Direct quote from Voltaire.

"History is filled with the sound of silken slippers going downstairs and wooden shoes coming up.”

I couldn’t help but to imagine that concept and how it applies to artists. I grew up in Scranton, PA […just like The Office]. Over the last decade, things have improved as a younger generation began openings small businesses and influencing the culture of the city, but when I lived there, it was a barren wasteland for artists. I have clear memories of shooting the entire year, or spending 8 months on a series of paintings to show in one of the only galleries that existed. Spending over $1000 I saved working third shift for $9/hr at a psychiatric hospital, just to afford matting and framing. After all the time, money and effort spent. Flyers, interviews and advertising…my openings would bring between 15 - 25 friends and family, many of which I knew were there out of obligation. Of course, nothing at all sold.  

You may wonder how I dealt with that kind of devastation. I started painting, shooting and planning the following day for my next disappointing gallery opening. I don’t know. It was just in me to do so. I had to work a shitty job, but it was just to survive to work on my art. I wonder if that kind of determination is akin to the Voltaire model for rising and falling empires throughout history. I’ve been thinking about if it’s a toughness that breeds endurance in an industry that doesn’t yield much success. I’ve mentioned in previous blogs here on Steemit that since those sad days, I have reached a level of success in my art and career. It’s hard to deny I was shaped by the disappointments I faced as an artist living in Scranton.

Ryan Ashley, grew up only five miles from my house. Our upbringings were nearly identical. She grew up poor. We went to the same school. She was a phenomenally talented artist. Like me, she spent years spinning her wheels getting no where in Scranton. During those years, she and I became good friends, because in culturally depleted, economically depressed towns, we tend to find one another. The weirdos, the punks. The artists. Ryan went on, being accepted to FIT in NYC. She moved back to Scranton after four years working for a design house supplying QVC. The industry was a let down, and she started tattooing. In four years, she has become one of the best tattoo artists IN THE WORLD. Last night, she premiered on Ink Master. Her finance, Josh Balz, grew up in the same small town as us. He is the keyboardist for Motionless In White and headlined Warped Tour this summer.

This is all just a theory, of course, but it’s interesting to consider that being a starving artist is, in fact, what makes us such great artists. I’m not looking to star in a reality show or headline a huge festival. I don’t make much money doing what I do, but I’m happy. I’m still pursuing something I feel is personally meaningful, and I believe I’m making a contribution to humanity. Sure, I’d love to make a little more, but I’m starting to believe this struggle is what keeps me hungry. Keeps me drawing, shooting, and sharing with others living through the exact same struggle as me.

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