Vincent Van Gogh said” I
put my heart and soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process”.
Art, like a jealous, demanding,
manipulative partner will not settle for anything less than all of us; all of
our time, all of our attention and all of our soul. It is no wonder that so
many artists live in isolation and prefer it to company and many confess that
they feel lonelier in other people’s company than they do in their solitude. Charles
Bukowski wrote: “If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even
start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your
mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing
on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean
mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your
endurance, of how much you really want to do it”.
The muse it seems will not
be satisfied with less than full ownership of her artist; art can give the
artist everything and rob the artist from everything.
For many long
uninterrupted years
She was the friend and
confidant of Art;
They walked together,
heart communed with heart
In that sweet comradeship
that so endears.
Her fondest hope, her
sorrows and her fears
She told her mate; who
would in turn impart
Important truths and
secrets. But a dart,
Shot by that unskilled,
mischevous boy, who peers
From ambush on us, struck
one day in her breast,
And Love sprang forth to
kiss away her tears.
She thought his brow shone
with a wonderous grace;
But, when she turned to
introduce her guest
To Art, behold, she found
an empty place,
The goddess fled, with
sad, averted face.
Ella Wheeler Cox
