North America is death for the artist. In a continent so controlled by the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness, any time spent searching for the leisure of contemplation becomes a simmering pot of water on the back-burner of the oven of life. Why else would the Lost Generation have chosen France to find themselves?
The artist needs a clear head to listen to the internal voices of inspiration. Now, I cannot possibly deny that it is the duty of the artist to create this head-space for her or himself, and that great artists seem to transcend chaos to reach these heavenly pastures of creative flare. For this is part of the struggle for the artist during the creative process -- to take noise and randomness and make it poetic. However, finding the ideal creative space is as hard, if not harder, than the act of creating itself.
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