Success As…
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As I continue contemplating my artistry, I’m once again reminded that success is not a fixed destination but a shifting, deeply human idea, subjective, contextual, and often contradictory.
Success is always, in some sense, in the eye of the beholder. It also has no permanent resting point: the goalposts move, sometimes in liberating ways, sometimes in punishing ones. Regardless of how it is defined, or how often it is defined for us without our consent, what feels most essential is learning to accept yourself as successful without harming others in the process, including by diminishing or resenting those who have put in the work and developed real skill. Whether or not others recognize you as successful, there is something crucial about being able to believe it yourself.
Self-validation, which I am still trying to practice more consistently, can carry a person far, but it is always in tension with material realities, like paying rent. And still, I believe it is possible to be both successful and struggling at the same time. History gives us endless examples: Mozart died in poverty, yet his music, and the music of his contemporaries, has shaped centuries of listening and meaning. His life, like the figures in Thomas Wolfe’s Did Success Spoil Rock Hunter?, reminds us that success and sustainability are not the same thing.
And yet, belief alone is not enough. You also have to want success, or at least want something that resembles it. “All that glitters is not gold” comes to mind, as does Wolfe’s observation: “The minute you are ‘successful,’ the greater the expectations for your continued accomplishments and triumphs and the harder it can be to live up to them.” I think about a conversation I had with my cousin in Seattle in 2024, when she told me she was perfectly content being ordinary. I’ve looked up to her since I was a child, and at the time I couldn’t understand how someone so talented could say that. I consider her successful, but maybe that says as much about me as it does about her.
I know I carry my own struggles: believing in my talent, wanting to be loved for my efforts, wanting proof that I am not unlovable or a failure. But walking away from that conversation, I realized there is a quiet beauty in the ordinary, and that being “ordinary” does not mean being unsuccessful. It may simply mean living outside the spotlight. In a capitalist culture, and perhaps as a zillennial raised by boomers, there is a deep, almost unconscious pressure to become something, to climb, to accumulate. And as someone who exists at the intersections of being Black, queer, biracial, and more, I have to admit that part of my drive may come from wanting to prove my worth to others, sometimes at the expense of honoring my own sense of worth first.
Being a creative, no, being human, is challenging. As Wolfe points out, for performers especially, success can feel uniquely fragile: there is no durable product, performances are ephemeral, and time itself is always moving us toward different bodies, different capacities, different priorities. All of this keeps returning me to the same belief: success has to be claimed from within, felt in the moment, held lightly, and paired with a growth mindset that values learning over permanence, even if that learning eventually leads to a pivot.
I feel lighter when I think this way, even if it is still difficult to live by it. As we all know, taking our own advice is often the hardest part.
Still, mindset alone is not enough. There are real economic pressures, real lives, real people, people like you and me, trying to figure out how to survive and sustain creative lives in a particularly strange and unforgiving socioeconomic moment. That is why Wolfe’s framework is so useful. He offers models for achieving and maintaining success:
SUCCESS AS HARD WORK: Success is not something you “arrive at” but something you must re-earn every day through discipline, rigor, and recommitment to fundamentals.
SUCCESS AS SURVIVAL: Success is not about recognition but about necessity: it is the means to feed, clothe, and protect one’s family.
SUCCESS AS VERSATILITY AND A CHANGED DIRECTION: When one path becomes impossible or unsustainable, success can mean redefining the work rather than abandoning it.
SUCCESS THROUGH MENTORING: Success can continue not through personal performance, but through shaping the next generation.
SUCCESS AS FORCE OF PERSONALITY: Charisma, confidence, and sheer presence can sustain a career even when artistic powers begin to fade.
SUCCESS AS BEING BETTER THAN THE COMPETITION: For some, success is fueled by comparison, rivalry, and the need to always be on top.
SUSTAINING SUCCESS THROUGH RELIANCE ON STIMULANTS: When psychological and physical pressures become overwhelming, some artists turn to chemical support to keep going.
What strikes me is that I can see myself in many of these. I think about preparing for my National Flute Association performance or my senior recital, practicing seven days a week for hours, grinding through Ear Training IV just to graduate, starting a chamber collective while wondering if arts administration might also be a form of artistry. I think about learning extended techniques, experimenting with new genres, training my own brain to say, out loud and without apology, that I am a musician. And I think about the quieter, harder work of reminding myself that success is bigger than public recognition.
As Wolfe concludes, “…there are many forms of success in music and even more ways that musicians attempt to sustain it.” That line keeps echoing for me. It suggests that there is no single path, and that whatever path we take, learning is unavoidable. That learning itself can be the success.
It’s like competitions. Of course we want to win, but much of the real value comes from the process: learning a new piece, deepening our understanding, discovering something about ourselves along the way.
In the end, it seems to be about perspective.
