We often dream of the lives of Picasso, Modigliani, and Cézanne—modern masters who seemed to breathe art. In their time, and partly through them, the gallery world in Paris blossomed. By the 1930s one street alone boasted more than twenty galleries; Paris likely had dozens, perhaps over a hundred. In many ways the modern system of galleries and collectors was born in that era. Their success—and the prices their works achieve today—have become a benchmark we still chase.

But when we speak about their dedication or their obsession, we often romanticize it. What it really meant was sacrifice. They gave up stability, security, and comfort. Many lived in poverty. Relationships suffered. Their entire life revolved around one thing: making art. There was no safety net, no backup plan, no parallel career. Art was not something they did—it was the only thing they could do.

Today we live in a world of 8.2 billion people. Paris alone now has more than 2,000 galleries, yet the number is again shrinking (like everywhere in the world). At the same time, the number of artists seems to be exploding. We compare ourselves to those heroes, yet the ecosystem is completely different.