Frisettes' pretty much explains the message I want to send out about the connection between artistic creation and poverty:
Art is the business of taking old crap and make it beautiful and new, but once a neighborhood is all condos and hipster coffee shops, where can painters and sculptors do their thing without fear of staining the new flooring? Where can aspiring musicians hold their booze and pot-fueled jam sessions?
Can they move there at all if they don't find any housing a starving artist can afford?
When I mentioned that to some well-established artists in Moncton, I was disgusted by their reaction.
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