The Long Game

A Letter to Artists on Presence, Patience, and Pointedness

FS4282ct25 - 9 x 7.5 inches - collage on paper

The Long Game: A Letter to Artists on Presence, Patience, and Pointedness

In the creative life, there’s a quiet temptation that follows every brushstroke, every idea, every new piece of work: Will this make me legendary? Will they remember me? It’s a question that hides under the surface, sometimes masked as ambition, sometimes mistaken for purpose.

But let’s be honest—chasing the illusion of greatness in other people’s minds is a trap. The need to be seen as legendary can derail the very thing that might one day make us so: the sincere, humble work done with care and consistency. Better to keep your head down, do your thing, and let others decide what your legacy is. Let that not be your motivation. Let the work be your motivation.

It’s more sustainable—and saner—to aim for a calm, steady living. Think in terms of peace over hype, longevity over fame. Let the fools chase fortune and applause; they are too often the ones who burn out or break down. Artists who endure understand this: it’s not a sprint. It’s a marathon.

Don’t chase. Strategize.

Move with intention, and only after contemplation. Let your ideas cook. This is especially hard when your mind is fast and your imagination restless—when you’re excited by possibilities and ready to try anything. That’s a beautiful thing. It’s also the recipe for burnout if not tempered by patience. Impatience leads to frustration, and frustration leads to distraction.

Most artists are like children. That’s not an insult—it’s a gift. We run in circles. We build sandcastles. We light up with joy and dive headlong into the next idea. But without rhythm and grounding, we end up exhausted and spinning. The key is sustainability and centeredness.

To make a life in art, you need a “long game” mindset. It doesn’t come together in a week. You have to hold your vision in your imagination and put in the work long enough for it to become real. That requires clarity of intent—your intent. Not what you think others will like. Quietly be yourself. Do your thing. Slow and steady, over the long haul.

Here’s another lesson from experience: establish regular hours. Treat the work like a job. Not because you should box yourself in, but because structure gives freedom. Be at the studio when you say you will. Show up every day, like everyone else with a job.

For couples where one or both partners are artists or entrepreneurs, this kind of structure is even more important. Boundaries are everything. If one person is riding a whirlwind of inspiration while the other is trying to think straight, the imbalance can get overwhelming and start causing trouble. It helps if the more excitable partner learns to “go to work,” keep their process to themselves during the day, and come home at a regular time. Be present. Take a few deep breaths. Make dinner. Take a walk. Let the workday be over and leave it behind until tomorrow.

This doesn’t mean your partner isn’t excited about your ideas - they probably are. But they also need space. And so do you.

Define your responsibilities to each other. Write them down. Explain why they matter. Shape a life that allows for collaboration and independence. Know when to overlap and when to move separately. Create agreements so everyone’s on the same page.

When it comes to building a career in the arts, here’s a strategy that works: center everything around the studio. That’s the core. Make work that can sell. Get into galleries. Keep that as your main focus. If you paint houses or do murals for income, that’s great—but let it orbit the core, not replace it.

Murals can be powerful free advertising, especially if documented well. Turn them into content. Share them online. Set up a ‘Patreon’, ‘Go Fund Me’ or a ‘Buy Me a Coffee’ page. Invite people to support your work. But don’t confuse side projects with your central core intention. Build a focused online presence that reflects you as an artist—not as a general do-it-all creative. Pointedness is key.

Often when an artist is feeling inspired, a thousand other ideas and projects spring to mind but these other ideas can wait. Write them down into an idea book. Let them cook. Come back to them later. Meanwhile stay focused on the project at hand and put your full attention on it till you get it well off the ground or completed. When it’s ready, document it, get it to market if you can or wrap it and put it in storage. On to the next.

And if you feel the urge to share every new idea with your partner, try this: write it out like a proposal. Add a timeline and a calendar. Post it on the fridge. Let them absorb it at their own pace. Then, leave work at the door. Enjoy each other. Be present. Recharge. Love is better shown with peaceful presence than with proofs. You know you love each other, you don’t have to prove you’re worthy.

In the end, you don’t need to do everything at once. Look at your idea book, pick the next right idea. You just need to do the next right thing, again and again, with clarity and calm. As you go along many of those inspirations may not be worth the pursuit.

That’s how artists build lives—not just legacies. A respected legacy is the well documented trail looked back upon in retrospect, not the dreams and intention you start with or are in the middle of fulfilling. The life you live and how you live it between the start of the trail and its finish is the main point of the adventure.