This is a series of blog posts sponsored by generous contributors who helped cover my renewal costs for this site. Next up is Mike Cummins (@mikelc).

An Artist’s Life is his Art (Art capital ‘A’ always capital fucking A), everything they do will have the itch in the back of their head, that drive to create, to express, to communicate. And when not directly creating an artist should be collecting: images, smells, experiences, sailing to the edges of normality so the tales they can tell are are not necessarily bigger or better but have a wider context.

Its an artist’s job to live life at the opposite end of the spectrum – consensus reality is a middle ground, so if enough of us live fabulously enough we can drag the whole world into the bizarre and beautiful.

Capitalism works because it can make us crave the next thing, the next shrink wrapped, focus grouped, polished ‘thing’ it can shit out. Being an artist should be revolutionary because creating makes you apart from that system, and shame on the artist that swims in that sea of shit, believing the reviews of the financially invested in their success, becoming a ‘brand’ and being tainted by the soulless money hungry zombies the capitalist machine holds up as heroes.

Artists are shaman unfettered from the responsibility of conforming to the rest of the tribe. It’s his job to heal your soul, bring insight from the beyond and walk the path of excess with a big fucking stick to loot that palace of wisdom bringing back the treasures for all.

An artist thinks the unthunk thoughts, drinks the weirdest thing in the bar, talks to the pariahs, steps on the cracks not giving two fucks about his mothers’ backs and they always open the doors marked ‘private’.

This won’t make you famous, fuck fame anyway. Fame is a tawdry empty thing chased by airheads and the untalented. And what does fame get you anyway? hour an hour hash tag on twitter with people making the same joke about whatever the media decided what your catchphrase was? fuck that, fuck them, and fuck the three seconds it takes someone to type ‘RIP’.

If work is your focus and your life an example you’ll change the people and thus the whole fucking world. Living free won’t make you famous it’ll make you something better, it’ll make you notorious.

if you are guided by your inner artist, that spark inside that try take make you go swimming at midnight or get on the roof and dance, then you don’t have to worry about morality. Picasso was a leather skinned sex addict, Dali an egotard and Pollock a degenerate drinker, these were not good men by any description. They were great men.

An artist’s life, ultimately, is the only currency they will ever value. and should be spent chasing the art that their heart needs them to create.