Successful artists—by which I mean those who make money at it—tend to put themselves into the position, or have the position thrust upon them, of being gurus to the rest. I've noted it recently in various spheres: theatrical, martial, and plastic arts all equally.
They feel that their success entitles them to tell people what to do, how to do it, and how to interpret the world. It is a phenomenon I have only recently become aware of—on social media, on YouTube.
I mean this differently from those who cash in on their skill set by offering workshops or classes in technique. Nor do I find it reprehensible; it is probably an inevitable attendant upon success.
It's enjoyable to hear a practitioner expound upon the world, and explain the steps that brought him or her to that paid position (mind you I am not talking about egregious reputation).
I never sought another person's success, and perhaps shunned such talk when I was younger. Now older, straining at the bit has left me, and I enjoy it for what it is.
Inevitably I am reminded of John Kenneth Galbraith's example of the businessman who achieved his success on the up end of a cycle, delivering platitudes to later entrants into the game: "You just have to do what I did" even though the facilitating conditions no longer obtain.
With artists, it is never empty platitudes, but useful information of varying applicability. I'm not saying I'm too old to be a chela, but by now most gurus come behind me by at least a decade.
In some cases their insights, preciously doled to acolytes, are merely the fruits of age, gleanings that will be yours if you just live long enough.
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