It’s hard to be a starving artist. This is the purist who lives on their more successful friends’ sofas and lights from one bar to the next, spending the last of their meager savings on beer. It’s also hard to be an artist with a job. Then it’s just a hobby, and friends and family regard it as such; art therapy at best. Work wars with relationships that war with responsibilities that war with your art for your time. Before you know it you’re middle-aged, bitter, desperate, hate your job, your wife, your house, your car, and your life because they each stole some of your time. It’s better to be starved for money than to be starved for time.