What’s love got to do with it? it’s Money, Fame and Power stupid When asked what advice she’d give to her 15-year-old self, the celebrated 83-year-old African American poet, Maya Angelou broached the subject of inspiration. “Find a beautiful piece of art,” she said. “If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall in love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin or the music of Chopin — find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that that was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less. The person may have keener eyesight, a better ear, the person might have a more live body and can dance, but the person cannot be more human than you,” she advised. By their own admission, most of the celebrated artists of our times have apparently been inspired into creativity by nothing more than the idea of creativity itself, the thrill of being alive, being human, being able to create. Bah Humbug! Realistically speaking, only a philanthropic soul of God-like proportions could be inspired by just the abstract love of creating. When one works, whatever our work may be, it is certainly swell when one is lifted into a creative oblivion. But it’s also natural to want something a little more concrete. It’s only human to want to be recognized, or even get returns on what one considers to be a lucrative investment of time. Case in point, the prolific Vincent Van Gogh whose great works didn’t bring him either money or fame. He died a miserable and lonely death, with not a soul around to mourn the demise of this bastion of creativity. Fame and money came in post-humously. Even the power that he possibly derived from his creations never translated into anything concrete. And needless to say, the ghost of the now vindicated Mr Van Gogh must be mighty peeved that his fortunes didn’t turn during his corporeal lifetime.