I’ve often thought many times of just ditching my hobby of Podcasting and writing because I was getting walls of indifference. I was volunteering to silence my own voice and pawn my dreams for mediocrity. When there is no reaction the artist questions their relevance, their muse, the spark. Some chop off an ear, some pickle their insides and lastly some have a flash if laser focused insight ensure they will vacate this painful plane.
We have a tendency to lay it on thick, but our work depends on these ephemeral things that are cloaked from elementary definitions.
There is a desire, this desire is passion amplified exponentially. Those who consider themselves outside art, want to work or at least begrudgingly ply their trade with meek repugnance. But the artist is obsessive and seeks to represent the plucking of order from the chaos. Their work is an imperative and if is not needed will be lost to the cosmos for eternity.