Reminds me of TV documentaries and magazine articles by the climbers, with all their dancing with death macho jargon. When you really get to know them, they were probably peeing their pants when the rock under their fingernails started crumbling. And similarly, though we might remember certain photographers based
on a glamorization their work, what was really involved seems to have been about 98% work itself, and only 2% distilled art. Gotta feed the family, pay your bills.
Yeah... Gauguin sailed to Tahiti into a tropical fantasy, artistic bliss, and fame; that was a long time ago... Oh wait a minute, he worked as a dawn to dark grunt
in a smelly warehouse and then painted on his time off, fantasizing about what he never found. Sound familiar?
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