Well said. Good writing.
When things are grim, I think of a letter I once read. It was written by an old, sad man to his favourite nephew.
I forget the nephew’s name but the man’s name was Michelangelo and the note, translated from Italian, was dated some time in the early 1560s.
A life of immense physical effort and psychic torment was taking its toll on the greatest sculptor of the Renaissance. His tone was deeply gloomy, and through a catalogue of small setbacks a picture emerged of someone who felt that everything was gradually, depressingly, going to hell. The price of marble was rising. The deadlines were impossible. The patrons were Philistines who couldn’t tell a Pietà from a pizza.
And then he wrote something that I always come back to when life seems particularly difficult. Ah, nephew (he seemed to sigh): these are not good times to be an artist.
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