I hate to sound like a romantic adolescent, but I believe artists

In the words of Charles Saatchi, "I hate to sound like a romantic adolescent, but I believe artists don't generally see art as a career choice; they simply can't overcome their desire to make art, and will live on little income for as long as they have to, before they start to sell their work - or give up and get a paying job," we uncover a profound insight into the nature of creativity and the calling of the artist. Saatchi’s words, though humble in their self-awareness, speak to a deeper truth about the artistic spirit. An artist, whether they are a painter, sculptor, writer, or musician, is often driven by a force that transcends material concerns. For many, the creation of art is not a rational career decision but an intrinsic need, a longing that cannot be ignored, no matter the cost.

In the ancient world, this deep compulsion to create was often seen as a gift—or a curse—bestowed by the gods themselves. The Greeks revered their gods of inspiration, such as Apollo, the god of music, and Athena, the goddess of wisdom and craftsmanship. The ancient poets and philosophers believed that creativity was not simply an individual pursuit but something that flowed through the artist from divine sources. The great Homer, in his epic poems, described his inspiration as a kind of divine madness, a drive so powerful that it compelled him to write, to create, even though his works would bring little material reward. The romantic adolescent Saatchi refers to might be seen as the modern echo of these ancient figures—artists whose soul is moved by a force that cannot be explained by logic or desire for wealth but by the need to express something greater than themselves.

The struggle between the artist’s desire to create and the need to sustain oneself is not new. In ancient Rome, many artists were not rewarded with wealth or fame in their lifetimes. Take the example of Vitruvius, a Roman architect whose writings on architecture were groundbreaking, yet during his life, he had little recognition. It was only after his death that his works gained the importance they deserved. His story mirrors that of countless artists throughout history who spent their lives in relative obscurity, driven by a passion for their craft, yet struggling to find financial stability. Much like Saatchi describes, these individuals worked for the love of their art, and it was only after years of dedication that they might find recognition or financial reward—or, as Saatchi notes, sometimes they give up altogether and seek other work to sustain themselves.

The romantic adolescent aspect of Saatchi’s quote speaks to a youthful idealism that often drives artists, especially in their early years. This is the belief that the act of creation itself is worth any sacrifice, even at the expense of material comfort or stability. In the Renaissance, artists like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo were often sponsored by powerful patrons, yet they still lived with the understanding that their greatest works were their true legacy. They pursued their craft not for immediate monetary gain but because their vision could not be contained. This passion for creation, without the expectation of material reward, reflects the romantic idealism that Saatchi describes—the artist’s deep connection to their work as something that transcends financial gain and is driven by the inherent need to express the soul.

Yet, Saatchi also touches upon the reality of an artist’s life—the tension between artistic desire and the need for sustenance. The world is rarely kind to the artist who creates without concern for financial reward. In ancient Greece, the poet Pindar struggled to make a living from his art, relying on the support of wealthy patrons. Yet, his works endured because they were driven by a higher calling—a desire to celebrate the heroic and the divine. In the same way, modern artists must often balance their passion for creation with the harsh economic realities of the world. The struggle Saatchi speaks of is not merely a personal one but a universal truth for anyone who dares to create something from the soul and hopes to see it respected in the world.

The lesson Saatchi’s reflection offers is one of commitment and resilience. To be an artist is to face the unpredictable, to create even when the reward is not immediate, and to endure the hardships that come with following a path that may not always align with conventional ideas of success. In the same way the ancient heroes faced struggles on their journeys—Hercules and Achilles went through tremendous battles, suffering, and sacrifice to achieve their greatness—so too must modern artists face their own trials. The true reward, Saatchi suggests, comes not in the monetary gains or the fame, but in the act of creation itself, in the truth the artist uncovers and shares with the world.

For all of us, the lesson is clear: pursue what stirs your soul, even if it means living with uncertainty. The artistic journey, whether it be through painting, writing, music, or any other form, is a journey of the heart—one that requires faith and sacrifice. If you are called to create, do not fear the hardship it may bring. Like the great artists of the past, trust that the pursuit of your passion is valuable, not for the material rewards it may or may not bring, but for the truth and meaning that only you can uncover through your work.