Fortunately for us, that story is a lie I wrote under the influence of the drink some would call "ito ang tama". We all know Beethoven the genius from 19th century Vienna. Was he ever rich? Have you any knowledge of Mozart's financial status when he died? No. Because whether Beethoven lived in a palace or a cheap apartment, we don't give a rat's posterior. But we know that he has altered the direction of music to previously undiscovered heights. Period.
2015, Philippines. Employment, is the dream. Luxury; nearly an illusion. Money; the ticket we constantly, tirelessly, desperately wait in line for just to ride in the already full MRT called life. Happiness; the consolation with which we justify our existence.
"The arts cannot flourish in an environment where survival and nourishment are daily preoccupations." Said someone whose name I regrettably forgot.
Perhaps that is true, considering that this country is a world painfully classified as "third". But why had the late Lee Kuan Yew said that Filipino artists are far more superior to those of Singapore or all of Asia for that matter? (that's right, Japan) It is undeniable that in the surface, this country is as ugly as the colorful garbage chilling on the sidewalks of Philcoa, but we have seen (and for many years we have) that the talents of this country could echo across the globe. And I sincerely hope they know that. Because it is one thing to know you have the power, and is another to know what to do with it.
The pursuit of jobs, money, convenience, independence, I believe, ultimately boils down to one thing; survival. Yet, survival is too primordial a word that it stands contrary to the advances of science and technology. We've been to the moon, for Pete's sake, we can harness the power of the sun, cure the deadliest of diseases. Survival? Unless you actually live in a cave hunting deer.
Perhaps this century seeks a new renaissance, where we further the rise of humanity's intelligence through science, and beauty through art. So we march on and insist, though today the artists drift in the ocean of uncertainty hanging on to what little debris of the past they can cling to. But we insist. Composers, writers, painters, poets lead the way to enlightenment while survival should be the least of their concerns. To leave artifacts of the identity of our time the way Bach did for his, is the responsibility I certainly hope is embedded in the head of anyone who parades himself as an artist.
But how dare I make pakialam? Should you choose to be rich, and spend, and travel, and take pictures of your things for your friends to envy, then pray that one day, history will remember you for the beautiful selfies you have contributed to this world.