Anyone else here sick of leading the artist's life? Now...

anyone else here sick of leading the artist's life? Now, i know what many of you are going to say: that there is no such thing as "the artist's life," (singular) and that I should stop being a little bitch, but just bear with me. It seems in my experience that in order to create deep, quality, thoughtful art, one has to introspect a ridiculous amount. The greatest authors have been for the most part, extremely knowledgeable about their own consciousness and human experience, something that comes through introspection. But introspection is often such a painful process, especially if you attempt to do it with such relentless constancy, because it reveals a lot of either terrible, or pathetic or deluded things about yourself, and shows how little you really know, and how insurmountable and unresolved so many of the problems of the world are. It really is like that cliche Kafka quote about chopping at the frozen sea inside you. And all this is not to mention the unending need to observe people and to analyze situations to break it down to be used in your art, making it hard to just fucking live sometimes. But don't think that I'm somehow doing the whole "I'm a tortured artist woe is me, look how romantic my life is" routine, because the point of this post is that it is not romantic. It's just painful and irritating. There's almost like a nausea at the will to truth inside me, and a desire to just shut off the creative and introspective impulse. And it doesn't help that the cultural locus is such that a great deal of people have no appreciation at all for art in the first place, other than a sort of blind and ignorant respect founded only on an appeal to authorities who appreciate art, which, though we ideally would like to write just for the sake of needing to write, does make your pain seem all the more pointless. I see no happy triumphant ending to the creative path that I'm stuck in, no perfect and sublime solution to all the problems of life and to the attempt to create a great work of art, and even doubt the very value of bringing forth this work were it by some miracle to drop into my hands. I think this may be due to the fact that I am stuck in the terrible Salieri-like middle ground of being able to recognize genius but unable to find it myself. Sorry for the blog post, but I hope to God that I am not alone in this.

whoa

fuck you

someone's a negative nancy up in here

Well, maybe you've found the subject to write about.

Why not answer the dude instead? He took the time to write a well-thought out post, don't be a dick.

It sounds like you just need a friend that shares the same interests as you, but i'm afraid you won't find it on Veeky Forums for the moment, it's going through one of its phases.

i didnt answer because i didnt read his well-thought out post

Perhaps you need not demand constacy in your introspection. It might be a good idea to allow yourself breaks from the "artist's life". Understanding the juxtaposition between levels of introspection could possibly lead to greater understanding of the value you find in deeper thought.

Thanks for the post, OP.

simply epic

thanks for the (You) friend

I've gotten more (You)s itt by shitposting than OP has by writing out a well-thought out post

Really makes your knocker go knockin

Unless your art is your primary source of income you're not "living the artists life"

perhaps you're just not cut out to be an artist. if introspection is too difficult to bear, stop. why in the world would you force yourself into a position like that? so foolish.

is that tolstoy? he looks cool. i want to read his books now.

Does being a full-time wageslave because you dropped out college due to having no money thanks to coming from pisspoor "household" working 2 to 11, sleeping in in the mornings, too exhausted to concentrate on reading at breaktime, get home and have to drink the mundane yet somehow stressful workday away and end up too drunk to read count as living an artist's life?

Go fuck yourself, you whiny little bitch. I'd kill to be daddy's little girl not worrying about how to live paycheck to paycheck and have free time for concentration to read and write. I just wrote my first short story in I can't even fucking remember.

Take a trip and see some mountains and fields. Leaves and flowers. It helps.

Why the fuck do fagots like you browse my board?

I demand you to leave and never come back, else the lawsuit will be filed (of course on Monday).

Best regards.

What can I say? I've been feeling the same as you for the last couple years
I'll probably ditch my current college degree and start studying Spanish in the same college. I'm sick of having to go through two parallel ways at once.

Wow, you have the sort of life story the lit community laps up at interviews. There's hope yet, kid!

(That was all said in the voice of Phil from the Disney movie, 'Hercules'.)

Use paragraphs next time

>I see no happy triumphant ending to the creative path

There is never a happy ending because the path never ends. Regardless of your pursuits, life will continue even after victory. Once at the pinnacle you will get bored and look for a new path to keep you occupied with your time. Find something that makes you happy user, come to terms that all will be difficult and only death is the end.

For me it seems that weather or not I like it, I can not remove the introspection and stifling my creative impulse just clogs my brain to the point I can barely function.

I do art because I have to, critics and the masses are not participants unless for some reason I want them to be.