> But then I looked back, into the abyss of self-doubt. I erupted with fear, self-loathing, dark thoughts about how bad my work was, how pointless, unoriginal, ridiculous. “You don’t know how to draw,” I told myself. “You never went to school. Your work has nothing to do with anything. You’re not a real artist. Your art is irrelevant. You don’t know art history. You can’t paint. You aren’t a good schmoozer. You’re too poor. You don’t have enough time to make your work. No one cares about you. You’re a fake. You only draw and work small because you’re too afraid to paint and work big.”
I find it very harsh and inappropriate to conclude that the author just wanted to "play artist" from this. I'm not surprised he quit making art altogether - the experience sounds very traumatic, and I have seen this up close with other friends who stopped making art altogether - if anything, for most of them that is because they believe in art much more than many other artists.
Being an Artist is so much more than just making work. It's living within a context of fellow artists, and art critics. It's hustling. It's playing by very specific social rules and knowing how to sell your work to fit whatever is popular according to the whims of the public and the art critic. Knowing how to, and being willing to play that game, is just as often what determines success or failure. And most of that compromises the artwork itself.