Super Lame Artist
The difference between an entrepreneur and an artist lies in the attitude toward whom they are creating for. Entrepreneurs create their work for others, while artists create for themselves. If I had to choose, I admire artists more—the life of someone who keeps conversing only with their own sensibility without seeking validation from others is filled with meaning, and to me, that is truly cool.
But at the same time, I’ve realized that there are what I’d call “super lame artists.” To put it simply, they’re entrepreneurs pretending to be artists who end up creating no real value. They often say things like: “I’m just doing what I want, so I don’t care if it’s not appreciated. It’s only meant for those who get it.” But that’s a line only true artists are allowed to say. For anyone else—especially if you’re essentially an entrepreneur—it’s just noise. Entrepreneurs must care about results.
Most of the so-called “artists” we recognize today are, at their core, entrepreneurs. The reason is simple: the rise of the internet and social media. Even a work that began as pure self-expression inevitably gets judged the moment it’s shared. Likes and comments roll in instantly, and once you see them, it’s nearly impossible to keep your inner criteria untouched. Remaining a true artist while being exposed to this constant feedback is structurally almost impossible. Which means, realistically, we don’t get to live in the same era as true artists—or to evaluate them.
I started thinking this way because I noticed I was turning into a super lame artist myself. My admiration for “artists” was becoming an excuse for the fact that I wasn’t being recognized. I told myself: “I just make what I want to make, I don’t need to put in the effort to deliver it. I’m an artist, after all.” But the truth is, I did want recognition. In fact, my real starting point was the desire to deliver my work to others. If you truly want to live as an artist, you have to cut yourself off from the world—keep your work in your own room, refuse recognition from others until death. Without that level of resolve, we should admit we are entrepreneurs.
And as entrepreneurs, if we believe our work is truly good, we must prove it through results. That requires the effort to deliver. It means grinding on the backend to polish quality, and working the frontend to reach more people.
Entrepreneurs with an artistic temperament often fall short on that frontend effort. Because it wounds their artistic pride. Can you explain your research paper in one minute for the masses? Can you do a trending TikTok dance to get impressions? Can you appear on a startup reality show as a contestant? All of it feels unbearably lame—enough to make you gag. But if we want our work to reach people, these things are necessary. That’s the price we pay for giving up on being artists. It’s our responsibility as entrepreneurs.
So I’ve decided to frame it like this: on the frontend, it’s okay to do things that feel unbearably lame. But in exchange, on the backend, I will dedicate myself to creating truly good work. This extreme duality allows me to be not an artist, but at least a cool entrepreneur. One who balances both the quality of the work and the number of people it reaches. By the way, entrepreneurs who slack off on backend effort are lame entrepreneurs too—but since they’re at least being honest about it, I wouldn’t call them super lame.
To create good work and deliver it widely—that’s the ideal of the entrepreneur. And it’s an ideal worth pursuing, even if it means swallowing a bit of pride. Those who skip the effort and stop at self-satisfaction are the ones who look the most pathetic. I’m glad I realized this early. Cheers to dodging the super lame artist trap.