The Unfulfilled Canvas

Reflections of an Artist in a Changing World

Now that I'm past fifty, I find myself reflecting on my artistic journey and the shifts happening in the art world. It's been a long road, one filled with passion, dedication, and countless hours spent in studies, internal reflection, visit exhibition, speaking with Gallerist & Curators and  in front of the canvas, trying to capture a moment, a feeling, or a fleeting idea that begged to be expressed. I've devoted time, energy, and so much love to painting, yet the results have not come in the way I had hoped. And when I talk about results, I mostly mean financial ones, the kind that allows an artist to live off their work, to sustain themselves and perhaps even thrive through their art.

From the very beginning, I never sought fame. I wasn't interested in becoming a household name or being celebrated in the circles of high art. My goal was much simpler: to share my vision, to connect with others through what I created, and to make a modest living doing what I loved. Perhaps it was this very attitude, this reluctance to chase the spotlight or conform to the demands of the market, that held me back from achieving the kind of recognition and financial success that would allow me to live solely from my art.

It's not easy to admit, but after so many years, I realize that I haven't managed to be recognized as an artist or to make a living from what I create. This thought is a burden I carry, a weight that sits heavily on my shoulders. I know I am not alone in this struggle; there are countless other artists who, like me, have poured their hearts into their work only to find that the world is indifferent to their efforts. We chose art as our means of expression, as our way of giving meaning to our existence, but we are met with the harsh reality that passion and dedication are not always enough to make ends meet.

There is a kind of loneliness that comes with this realization, a sense that despite all the love and care I've poured into my work, the world hasn't found a place for me. It makes me question myself, question whether I should have done things differently. Perhaps if I had focused more on gaining visibility, if I had been more strategic in my approach, if I had played the game the way others have, things might have turned out differently. But even as I reflect on these missed opportunities, I cannot bring myself to regret the choices I've made. And then I wonder: am I a good artist or a bad one? Is it my art that lacks something, or is it my inability to sell it, to make it visible in a way that the world would appreciate? Sometimes, it's hard to separate the value of what I create from the way it's received by others. Have I failed because my art isn't good enough, or because I haven't mastered the art of selling myself? Despite these questions, I have always chosen authenticity over conformity, truth over convenience. I paint for myself, for my soul, and that has always been enough for me, at least on an emotional level.

And yet, I recognize how difficult it is to live in this world when the art you create cannot support you. The constant struggle to pay bills, the nagging worry about the future, the sense of being undervalued, all of these things can take their toll on even the most passionate of souls. There are days when I feel defeated, when I wonder if it's all worth it, if perhaps I should have chosen a different path. But then there are moments, those precious, fleeting moments, when I stand in front of a finished painting and feel a profound sense of peace, of fulfillment. In those moments, I remember why I chose this life, why I continue to pick up the brush even when it seems like no one is watching.

To those who are experiencing a similar situation, I say: you are not alone. We are part of a silent, unseen community of creators who continue to work, not for fame or fortune, but for the love of the craft. Let us keep creating, even if the world seems unwilling to listen. Recognition doesn't have to be our only measure of worth. We are more than our material successes. We are artists because we have the courage to keep painting, even when it feels like no one is watching, even when it feels like the world has turned its back on us. I will continue anyway, not for hopes of success or recognition, but for the love that I have for art, for the love that has always driven me and will continue to do so, no matter the outcome. 

And if it’s any comfort to someone, it’s the same experience that artists like Van Gogh and Modigliani endured throughout their lives.