Post #536545 by twitch on Tue, Jun 15, 2010 6:34 PM

"There's little in taking or giving,
There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
And rest's for a clam in a shell,
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle ---
Would you kindly direct me to hell?"
-dorothy parker

It's like the question, "What is art?"
A query only asked by non-artists.
Assholery, along with narcissism and all the other artistic ailments (aka driving forces) is sporadic, comes in waves, pops up unexpectedly, etc.
It may be just more on the surface for the more edgy ones.
Remember, there are 'artists', and there are 'normal folk' - just don't go thinkin' one half's better than the other; it's just one more subset of humanity. Just consider 'artistic merit' as another kind of mental illness (albeit a mild form) and you'll be set!
This is all coming from an artist.

van Gogh, Sam Peckinpah, Louise Brooks, Charles Bukowski, Donn Beach, Hunter S. Thompson, Johnny Depp, the Bauhaus collective, Sylvia Plath, Charlie Parker, Dale Chihuly, Frida Kahlo, Crazy Al - all artists in their own right and all damaged goods, somehow (wait, Crazy Al?).

A fave quote:

"Everything great in the world comes from neurotics. They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces. Never will the world know all it owes to them nor all they have suffered to enrich us. We enjoy lovely music, beautiful paintings, a thousand intellectual delicacies, but we have no idea of their cost, to those who invented them, in sleepless nights, tears, spasmodic laughter, rashes, asthma, epilepsies, and the fear of death, which is worse than all the rest."

• Proust

One must accept the ocassional psychotic outburst or unfortunate incident with their artists as a trade-off: can you imagine a world without art!? Just think of a strip-mall. Now think of the entire world covered in this same strip-mall. And no music excepting the birds: no crazy SOB Beethoven bleeding over the keys, no Hank Williams, no John Coltrane, no Janis Joplin, no Stiv Bators, no Nickelback (uhhhm... OK, skip that one) and no nutty neanderthal clunking a femur on his ex-neighbors' skull to get the very first beats down to start it all. Yucko.

One more quote: "Gabba gabba we accept you, one of us!"
(If any of the above makes sense to you, please consult a psychiatrist)