How often have I heard of the courage of artists sticking to figuration in the age of abstraction—say, most of the first half of the Twentieth Century. Now I stick to abstraction in the age of … who knows what but certainly not abstraction, and yet I cannot boast of any courage. Courage, what courage? If I can boast of anything in particular, it is complete indifference to the art world. And I bet I am not all that different in this regard from all the artists of all times.

Addendum I (July 31, 2017)

All the artists of all times? Hmm. Rather, all the real artists of all times. Which is to say, only a few of them at best. Indeed, complete indifference to the art world is reserved for a handful of artists across centuries and even millennia. Alas, most artists are only human! Which is to say, they are enthralled by fame, fortune, and sexual favors (“The Three Fs,” May 31, 2000). When it comes to courage, they can eschew the worldly rewards only for a short while. Say, a few years at most. Courage is for the birds, anyhow.

Addendum II (December 21, 2023)

Looking back, the only courage that I have witnessed from artists I have met over many a year is the courage of stepping out of the world of art. In my mind, these are the only real artists worthy of mention. And I know very few of them, myself included. In this context, abstraction and figuration in the original piece are nigh irrelevant. All by itself, the art world is venomous, if not also lethal, and not even complete indifference to it is sufficient. One must step out of it without any compunctions, and dream of return never again. Alas, not even looking back is advisable, for it cannot but revive many a misery of the erstwhile struggle! In short, fuck art. And for good.