I used to romanticize the starving artist lifestyle.
Struggle and hardship would lead to growth and profound strokes of inspiration. Wondering how I’d pay next month’s rent would push me towards discovering myself. Just barely clawing past the red meant I was truly focusing on my passion. Money would be a distraction. Comfort would equate to complacency.
In order to truly call myself an artist, well being had to come second to my craft.
I was told time and time again, “Pursuing a career in dance isn’t going to be easy…” with foreboding of low salaries and ramen noodles every night. Sullen warnings of, “You might never get a job” with continual reminders that “it’s a saturated market you know…” came my way on the daily.
Romanticizing the struggle was a beautiful way of coping with the stress. It gave me the ability to not only embrace, but glorify the grind. I was clocking in an absurd number of hours each week while over working and under nourishing my body. I was emotionally and physically exhausted, running purely on dreams and caffeine. But hey, I was “doing the damn thing.” I was a starving artist! This is what it was all about… right?
As my professional dance career progressed towards commercial/theatre and away from contemporary dance, I started booking work that actually paid the bills. I also discovered the amazing opportunities within the NYC gig economy that allowed me to live beyond paycheck to paycheck. I was working less, sleeping more, and actually felt an odd sense of lightness… was this “happy?”
I had a major revelation:
Being a thriving artist is far more fulfilling than being a starving artist.
Knowing where next month’s rent would come from helped me sleep at night. Being comfortably in the green gave me freedom to do things I enjoyed. I didn’t have to deal with the distraction of worrying about money. Feeling comfortable and happy translated to increased creativity and inspiration. Higher (aka reasonable) paychecks helped me realize my value and I gained confidence in my abilities and artistry.
I thought being a starving artist would be liberating, but in hindsight, it was extremely debilitating.
Here’s the thing, artists are often set up for financial failure. We’re told we won’t make money and that getting any job will be “lucky.” We succumb to the narrative of being “right brainers”, with a limited capacity for numbers and finances. I mean, we won’t make enough to even consider investing… right? (For my thoughts on the work “luck”, click HERE!)
I have a crystal clear memory of my senior synthesis professor teaching the class how to make a tube of toothpaste last for an extra 3 days. What if we had learned something as simple as the benefits of putting money in an index fund?
The notion of the starving artist becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. But it doesn’t have to be.
If we can successfully learn a 2 ½ hour show, we can understand basic budgeting and finance principles. If we have the confidence to perform in front of hundreds of people, we have the ability to ask for fair pay and better benefits. If we can do an on-the-spot reblock in Act 2 because Steve sprained his ankle, we’ve got the soft skills and critical thinking required to thrive in this capitalistic society.
Artists are absurdly capable with highly desirable skills that translate to all types of situations, careers, and walks of life.
It’s time to say goodbye to the starving artist, and hello to the thriving artist.
