08/08/2026
The Only Smart Way to Spend Lottery Money (If You’re an Artist)
Time to make art without squeezing it into the cracks of exhaustion. Time to explore ideas that don’t have an immediate ROI. Time to fail gloriously in peace.
Which brings me to my latest dream journal artwork mug: Free Hugs — where I’ve befriended a Komodo dragon. Yes, a real life dragon. The kind of creature that could absolutely ruin your day… and yet in my dream world, we’re just there, hugging it out like two old war buddies who’ve seen some stuff.
This image didn’t come from logic. It came from the part of the brain that exists before capitalism, before productivity apps, before the phrase “monetise your passion” sucked all the magic out of creativity. It came from the same place your best ideas come from, the place that doesn’t care about permission.
If I won the lottery, the first thing I’d do is laugh. Not because I’m rich, but because the universe finally decided to slip me a cheat code instead of another side quest. Then I’d probably cry. Then I’d make a coffee. Then, and this is the important part, I wouldn’t run off to buy yachts, Lambos, or some soulless beige mansion with nine bathrooms and no soul. I’d buy something far more radical: time. Money helps, obviously. Anyone telling you otherwise is either rich already or selling something. Money can buy you tools, time, courses, space, freedom from the constant low-level panic of “how am I paying for this month’s groceries?” But money can’t guarantee success. It can’t guarantee happiness. And it definitely can’t guarantee that you’ll actually sit down and do the work.
There are broke artists who create relentlessly and wealthy people who haven’t created anything since their last midlife crisis haircut.
The myth of the starving artist is romantic nonsense, usually written by people who’ve never had to choose between paying rent and buying paint. Poverty doesn’t make better art. It just makes everything harder. But money alone doesn’t make thriving artists either. What does? Investment, intentional, ruthless, self-directed investment, in your skills, your tools, and your time.