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The dichotomy between artistic celebration and social support for artists raises crucial questions about the place and protection of these creators who enrich our universal artistic heritage. This article sheds light on a narrative where the vulnerability of three Western composers collides with the intransigence of a capricious table in the land of the Cedar.
Since the dawn of time, art has held a unique, even privileged place in community, playing a provocative role by spurring reflection and emotion. Despite the storms of decadence that shake our era, it remains a revelation capable of unveiling the depths of the soul and embracing human vulnerability through creative expressions that only an artist can realize. However, it is regrettable to note that society, sometimes quick to celebrate these talents, can also be less lenient when the artist (often misunderstood or not understood at all) is affected by illness, financial difficulty or other daily challenges. This dichotomy raises complex questions about the place of these creators in society: how can it reconcile artistic recognition with tangible support for artists grappling with personal or professional difficulties? The answer to this question sheds light not only on how a culture values creativity, but also on its commitment to the well-being and dignity of those who enrich universal artistic heritage and breathe life into the collective imagination.
Twenty Cents
History poignantly bears witness to the reality experienced by many artists who, left to their own devices, demonstrate resilience in facing the challenges of life, poverty and illness alone. Franz Schubert (1797-1828), a giant of musical Romanticism, faced financial difficulties throughout his life. His compositions, celebrated today as great masterpieces, did not enjoy commercial success during his lifetime. They were often rejected by publishers for not conforming to the trends of the era. The Austrian composer was thus forced to struggle to meet his needs, often working for modest commissions. “Is it any wonder that, at the end of his life, 20 cents were deemed sufficient to pay for some of his lieder, which have since done so much to enrich music publishers?” reads an article, published in 1894, written by Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904). Weakened by recurrent syphilis, Schubert succumbed to typhoid fever at the age of 31, leaving behind a musical legacy that would only be fully appreciated several decades later. “He left his heirs no more than 10 dollars—not even enough to cover his funeral expenses,” the Czech composer attests in the same article.
Making Ends Meet
If throughout his life, Schubert did not have the means to buy even music paper to record his inspirations, the financial situation of Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881) was no less disastrous. Although famous for works such as Pictures at an Exhibition (1874), Boris Godunov (1869-1872) and Night on Bald Mountain (1867), the Russian composer struggled throughout his career to make ends meet. The last 10 years of Mussorgsky’s life were marked by physical and mental decline, which likely hindered the completion of several of his works including The Fair at Sorochyntsi, Khovanshchina and Salammbô. This period reflects the worsening health of the Russian master, resulting from poverty, failure (his music being judged incoherent, unconventional and sometimes even chaotic), isolation and the loss of friends. These problems were exacerbated by periods of alcoholism, alcoholic comas, episodes of delirium tremens, epileptic seizures and depression, thus precipitating his final decline and death, described as “an old, cold and soft prostitute like mud, reduced to taking whatever comes her way,” as he wrote to the Russian music critic Vladimir Stasov (1824-1906).
Artisan of Poverty
The same was true for Erik Satie (1866-1925), who constantly struggled to meet his basic needs. His poverty was partly due to his innovative and eccentric musical style, which was not always understood or appreciated by the audience of his time. This “artisan of voluntary poverty” often chose to lead a simple and frugal life, living in modest conditions, but this did not always guarantee financial stability. His refusal to adhere to traditional compositional norms and his avant-garde approach contributed to his isolation from the musical mainstream of the time. Despite these difficulties, Satie left a lasting musical imprint, notably with compositions such as the Three Gymnopédies (1888-1895), the Gnossiennes (1889-1897), Socrate (1917-1918) and Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear (1903). His work influenced many later composers, and his contribution to Impressionist music is now recognized as significant. Nevertheless, his life marked by poverty remains a poignant aspect of his artistic journey. However, the composer of the Messe des Pauvres (1895) had fully accepted his condition and even seemed to have taken a vow—”Poverty comes from God, and one cannot renounce it without disobeying Him,” he is said to have once declared.
The Table
In the land of the Cedar, the situation has always been equally grim. Artistic professions are often not appreciated for their true value and prove to be thankless, even merciless. Obviously, this only concerns true artists devoted to their passion, and not impostors who exploit the scene to exhibit their ego, giving themselves body without soul to this profession. These so-called “stars” seek, simply but ironically, to make money opportunistically, as one can easily imagine. In short, this article will not grant them the importance they hope for. While everyone rushes to celebrate an artist’s success, those same people leave the table when success is served, tarnished by the weight of illness or other ills. This talent then finds itself in a precarious position, facing constant financial pressures and the absence of a social safety net. In this regard, a concert was organized last December to help about 100 Lebanese actors living “below the poverty line” in their day-to-day lives.
When social pressure becomes sufficiently overwhelming, the Ministry of Health reacts promptly and proposes solutions. However, for other, less fortunate artists, hospitals do not hesitate to coldly announce that there is no longer room at the table of healing. In Lebanon, it seems everything revolves around this capricious “table” where guests arrive just in time, but leave inopportunely at the wrong moment. A word to the wise… if any remain.