I used to think that some people just didn’t get it. I now realize they are actively hostile.
Some of us have a creative impulse, a muse that whispers to our souls, telling us to make, paint, write, build. We spend our lives learning how to get this thing that is burning inside us, out.
Others, like a crab in a boiling pot of water (thwarting any who dare try and escape a slow death), watch to mock, critique and reject.
There is another War of Art than the internal battle that Steven Pressfield so masterfully exposes.
It is a war with the anti-artist.
- That’s too expensive
- What a waste of time
- That extra stuff doesn’t matter
- No one can tell the difference