Rollerblades

Well, I had a stupid income for what I do.
-- Angelina Jolie, actor, on why she gives one-third of her earnings to charity

I am poor not in material things but in the truth. I've been called a thief, the biggest ever... [Philippine officials] think they have taken everything away from me, including my shoes.
-- Imelda Marcos

What happens to a person visited by extravagant wealth? Imelda stockpiled shoes. Million-bucks-per-show Seinfeld collects cars. Bono trots the globe for the down trodden. Angelina, Bill & Melinda, Peter B. give it away.

I'm curious about the effect of wealth on an artist's creativity. Starving artist -- a nice internal rhyme -- but is there synergy between hunger and output, desire and truth, satiation and barren wombs? Not being a rich girl, I can only speculate.

Water seeks its level. Artists seek theirs. Does a world stage pull unknown capacity from an artist? Or would the Claude Monets, Bob Dylans, JK Rawlings paint their master works on cave walls if canvases were scarce?

How should I know? There's only this: minute by minute you do what's possible with an eye, an ear, a skin cell to the impossible. You don't need money or fame or servants or limpid pools to help or hinder, you need your soul wide open and your wallet sewn of grass.