to be a full-time artist.

Art is a luxury—

a distant, shimmering mirage

for those who can afford it.

And I don’t know anyone rich.

It’s a cycle,

a trap I can’t escape.

To make it in the art world,

you need connections.

To make connections,

you need time.

To make time,

you need freedom.

But freedom demands a price

I cannot pay.

If I quit,

and the world turns away

from the poor artist with empty hands,

I’ll lose everything.

So I choose—

I’ll aim for wealth first.

For that, I can’t quit my job.

They say no one gets rich

by clinging to the grindstone.

But no one tells you how

to grow wealth from the ashes

of your own uncertainty.

Don’t believe the schemes—

“Learn to be rich selling art.”

They’re only lining their pockets

with your fragile hopes.

They’ll tell you it’s your fault

when the world ignores your canvas.

This is a jungle,

a world where survival

demands we prey on one another.

But I choose not to quit.

I’ll keep my job,

and let whatever feeds my art veins

spill into the cracks of my days.

Urva Patel

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