The Fat Happy Artist
I will not starve any more
I’m so sick of the “starving artist” trope.
This idea that to be a real artist, you must be willing to suffer for your art.
Imagine if we applied that to other professions.
If we preferred doctors who were “doing it for the love” over ones getting paid. Or trusted only the mechanics who would fix our car for “the exposure.”
It sounds ridiculous, and yet that’s the way music as a profession is primarily treated by society.
We’re meant to give our careers everything we have emotionally, physically, and mentally. All in the hope that one day, maybe, if we’re SUPER lucky, we’ll start to be paid for our time.
And we’re supposed to wear the suffering as a badge of honor. A gold star representing how dedicated we are to our art.
The glamorization of suffering as an inevitable part of being a credible musician is only good for people making money from music. And generally speaking, that’s not the musicians.
This trope has been a part of the arts for centuries, and it will not die quickly or quietly.
One thing we can do right now is stop letting this antiquated diminishing of musicians' value prevent us from making healthy financial decisions.
In other words, stop worrying that how you make money has anything to do with your validity and talent as a musician.
In other other words, stop letting your ego keep you poor.
This morning, I saw a flute player post on Instagram saying she was “downgrading” to part-time.
It got me thinking: Why are musicians so obsessed with whether we’re full-time or not?
So many seem to think that whether they can make a living at music full-time is the direct representation of their talent or lack thereof.
I’ve been a professional bass player for twenty years (yes, I’m old).
I would say I’ve been at the top of my professional game for the last ten.
In that time, I’ve worked part-time and full-time, toured, taught, played in cover bands and original bands, and had extended periods when I made no money from music at all.
That whole time, I was the same musician with the same talent and skill.
Whether I was bringing in music bacon or other bacon.
The need to say, “I’m a full-time professional musician," is more about ego than anything else.
It might come from a desire to prove wrong whoever told you music was a bad career choice or masking your insecurities about where your career is going.
It could just be the result of the centuries of stories we’ve heard about how tough the lives of the best artists were.
Whatever the root, it has nothing to do with how good you are as a musician.
Today, I spent four hours cleaning a rental property while listening to songs for an upcoming tour before I came home and spent an hour on a coaching call. Tomorrow, I’ll spend six hours unpacking boxes of clothing for one of our stores. In a few weeks, I’ll be on that tour. Through it all, I’m the same musician.
I used to be ashamed to admit I’d picked up a side hustle or a non-music job.
Now, I’m proud of the fact that I can do what’s needed and not let my ego stop me from adulting.
I honestly could not care less what anyone thinks about how I make a living.
And I wish that for you too.
