I think it was Bill Maher that said “Fame is the worst drug.” So many people, especially myself at one point, have aspired to be famous. I don’t know why. I guess it offers the illusion of being loved, or being important. This would be fine if our selves were defined by outsiders. Unfortunately (or fortunately), this is not the case. Self-love, and self-esteem are granted by only that: the self. When you let other people decide who you are for you, you’re entering dangerous waters.

More things that come along with fame? People that want a piece of you. Hang on for as long as they can. Offering you booze, drugs, a place to sleep– anything just to prolong the feeling of being around. And there may be some genuine adoration going on the part of the fan, but whom exactly are they adoring? Unless they know the person personally (and well) everything they’re adoring is about their work, news-clippings, and rumour. They’re in fact adoring an image of the person. A cartoon character.

Having said all this, I think that to have one’s work widely appreciated is a great thing. The artist’s role in society is a large and esteemed one. And as long as one keeps things in perspective, and is able to set personal boundaries, fans can be a great thing. I love to interact with people who get something out of what I do. And in some ways it’s that interaction- knowing that I’m hitting the mark as an artist- that keeps me creating.

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