Preamble: Art Addiction (Excerpted from MUSINGS FROM A SMALL ISLAND)

Sol Luckman

I’m a relatively small man living with my small family in a small condo in a small corner of a small island. But I often think big thoughts. I even have a fancy word for them: Musings. These are my Musings, both written and painted. May they amuse.

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My name is Sol Luckman and I’m an artist. If this sounds like an introduction to a twelve-step program for recovering cultural creatives, maybe it should.

Kicking an art addiction is a heck of a lot harder than going sober. Art—by which I mean anything that’s both uncannily beautiful and practically of no use—usually takes hold much earlier than substance abuse by hijacking one’s porous child’s psyche.

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From here, as the sci-fi saying goes, resistance is futile. You can rehab all you
want, but for true creative junkies art only relinquishes control of your life with death—and sometimes not even then considering that ultimate “artification” of life known as posthumous fame.

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