Thanks, Chris; but there and here's the rub: moral rightness doesn't bring us actual success. It's easy to feel right, but it helps not a lot on an empty stomach.
Reality has always been that artists are a dependent lot: whether the church, the banks, the galleries, the design groups or the ad agencies, we need all those money people to give us something to do for which value we collect what we can negotiate, if negotiation is even on the table.
It's an impassioned plea he makes, but the deal is clear from the beginning: how many rich artists does any of us actually call friend? I think I met one once years ago, but even there I'm not sure what was real and what facade or family circumstance. Sure, the talent was there, but so it is in thousands of cases. I had a pal in the 80s travel industry whose son was at a loose end and whose mind had drifted to photography. Papa took him off to London to consult with, not a shrink, but a careers specialist (see how we all get screwed by 'experts'?). This man told the pair that the figures showed there were possibly a dozen people in London having what could be called a real career in photography, with the rest just flying on empty. AFAIK the son went on to a PR job in Sun City and promptly forgot silly art references.
The truth seems to be that, except for a relative few with their own natural marketing skills or the luck to find a genuine agent interested ¡n them, art is never going to be other than an ego trip with all the possible disasters that brings with it.
I believe those of us who do set sail do so simply because we just can't help ourselves: we do it because we must, and all who might sail with us accept that situation or opt to stay on the dock. It makes or kills relationships.
July 16, 1945, 5:29 and 45 seconds. Even science couldn't avoid premature congratulation. Bet few women designed that thing.
Rob