The Age of Stock Market Frenzy

The Age of Stock Market Frenzy

These days, we live in an era of stock market frenzy. Investing in stocks has come to seem like a kind of money-printing machine. Stories abound of people buying homes or retiring early thanks to their stock gains. Society, in turn, glorifies these success stories, creating the impression that leaving money idle in a bank account is foolish. From children to the elderly, everyone seems to be studying the stock market.

Personally, I view this phenomenon with some unease. Two people close to me lost nearly all of their life savings in this whirlwind. I remember their early excitement — the sparkle in their eyes when they first started making money, the energy in their voices. If their stories had continued upward, I might not still feel this ache whenever I think of them.

At one point, their earnings far exceeded their monthly salaries. Their trading profits seemed effortless compared to the stress of following a boss’s orders at work. Eventually, they quit their jobs entirely and devoted themselves to watching market graphs, day and night. For a while, everything went well. The stock market, after all, rewards intuition and study — and with a bit of both, one might imagine becoming the next Warren Buffett.

But I’ve come to see that the stock market mirrors life itself: when something blooms, we must prepare for it to wither. Unfortunately, many people forget this truth. I especially hope that those who are timid by nature, or who feel anxious at the thought of even small losses, will avoid entering the market. They are the ones who tend to fail.

If, however, a person is bold — a natural risk-taker with an entrepreneurial spirit, capable of laughing even after a loss — then perhaps the market is for them. Trading provides a rush of dopamine; it can feel thrilling, even addictive. But for the cautious, or for those without spare funds, the market can be devastating.

After seeing painful examples around me, I once wrote a children’s story with my husband to teach our students about the dangers of speculative markets. That’s how deeply I felt the need for awareness. I, too, have brushed against the allure of sudden fortune.

Many years ago, when Bitcoin was still an obscure experiment, a guest visited our home — an entrepreneur involved in cryptocurrency. He suggested that I sell my paintings for Bitcoin, even offering to buy one if I accepted it as payment. If I had sold just one painting that way, today it would be worth a fortune. But missing that chance taught me something essential: luck plays a far greater role in such ventures than most people admit.

So now, when I see others chasing “the next big thing,” I no longer feel envy. If someone believes they are lucky, I won’t stop them from taking the gamble. But relying on luck alone is dangerous. Watching others fail made me appreciate the quiet dignity of labor — of earning slowly, through steady work.

That realization led me away from trading and toward writing, blogging, and publishing. These pursuits are slow. They offer no instant riches. But unlike the stock market’s roller coaster, they move forward like a snail on a leaf — slow, steady, and irreversible. Every step builds upon the last.

Recently, I replaced the roof of my old house. It took nearly ten workers climbing up and down ladders, carrying heavy wooden boards in the wind. Watching them, I thought: what if all these hardworking people abandoned their crafts to chase quick profits in the stock market? What would happen to the beauty and stability of our world?

If my own art classes became inconvenient because my investments made me rich, what kind of teacher would I become? Society still needs people who work with their hands, who show up, who build things brick by brick. Stock trading also consumes time and energy — but it’s energy spent entirely for oneself. It doesn’t build a community, nor does it nurture others.

I’ve seen fortunes vanish in a few careless clicks — years of savings gone, leaving behind long shadows of regret. I can’t help wondering: if all that time had been spent on real work, wouldn’t life have grown richer, in more meaningful ways? Labor, experience, and the act of creating something together — these are worth more than any instant fortune.
Still, I do believe in another kind of stock — investing in companies you admire, whose products genuinely make life better. Investing not out of greed, but out of faith in progress, in history. But when the only goal is to get rich, I have rarely seen it end well.

Strangely, I no longer regret missing that Bitcoin opportunity. If I had become rich back then, I might have stopped painting. I might not have started my blog or shared these reflections with you. I would probably be staring at market charts instead of writing this essay.
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So perhaps what I once thought was a missed opportunity was, in truth, a blessing. It led me to a quieter, more authentic path — one that values creation over speculation, patience over greed, and meaningful work over fleeting luck.
Everyone has their own story, and perhaps this is mine: a reminder that even in an age obsessed with quick riches, there is still beauty in slow growth.

The Temptations and Traps in the Art World

The world of art is no different. Here, too, there are artists who long to become famous overnight — and with that longing come temptations that can sometimes turn into traps. What appears to be a legitimate open call may later reveal itself as a scheme that offers “great opportunities” in exchange for a large sum of money. In a fair system, real opportunities should not demand such payments. A healthy art world should be built on fairness — where time, effort, and sincerity are rewarded naturally when the work itself is ready.

However, when impatience, comparison, and greed arise, we begin to look for shortcuts. That’s when artists start neglecting the daily discipline required for true growth. Instead of listening to their inner voice, they begin checking trends and popularity as if staring at a stock chart. In doing so, they lose the ability to create art that is genuine — art that carries the message their soul wishes to express.

For artists who truly wish to pursue authentic art, it is essential to remain steadfast, almost like a monk — not swayed by flattery or temptation. One must walk their path quietly and faithfully, believing in what feels true. Within that perseverance lies both real joy and mastery. That strength cannot be taken away by anyone; it belongs solely to the artist.

I myself once nearly fell into such a trap, early in my art career. I had an argument with a certain director, and thankfully, I did not fall for the deception. The director told me, “Even if you think my way is wrong, I know it is. But my business will still prosper, because there are many artists who crave this kind of success.” I have never forgotten those words.

Indeed, when I later visited her website, I saw countless glowing reviews from artists. But I had challenged her not because of her confidence, but because her so-called “juried” process was not truly juried at all. Everyone who submitted was told they were “amazing artists” and then invited to have their works published in her books — for a fee of several hundred or even several thousand dollars per page.
These schemes resemble real galleries and publishers in appearance, but they begin with deception. And because of that, the artists who participate — no matter how talented — inevitably suffer damage to their reputation. It is best never to take that road in the first place.

Yet new artists are often desperate. They are thirsty for opportunity. Without an established record, they are eager to build one — by any means. So when someone offers to include their works and biographies in a luxurious hardcover art book, or promises to hold an exhibition in a glamorous Las Vegas hotel, it sounds irresistible. It looks like a few precious lines they could finally add to their résumé. And like moths drawn to light, they fly toward it — unaware that it leads them away from their true path.

Once they get a taste for that kind of shortcut, it becomes hard to stop. The slow, daily work of practice, reflection, research, and growth begins to feel meaningless — as meaningless as staring at a market graph. Meanwhile, those who exploit artists’ desperation — vanity galleries, fake publishers, and art “competitions” — continue to multiply. Even if you fall victim, there is often nowhere to turn. Just as that director said, such businesses thrive precisely because of artists’ longing and vulnerability.
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But artists themselves struggle immensely. They are sincere, hopeful, and often financially stretched. That is why I write everything here on this blog — to document my journey of 14 years as an artist: the struggles, the failures, the growth, and the small but genuine joys that keep me going. I hope that by sharing these experiences, even one click, one reader, might find some guidance or comfort. Because I, too, have learned so much from bloggers who spoke from the same kind of honesty and sincerity.

Choosing to Keep Going

I once heard something deeply discouraging from a director at an art university. He told me that he had gone into education because it was too difficult to survive as an artist. Listening to him, I couldn’t help but feel disheartened. His words made me wonder, Why pursue art at all, if this is what the industry is like?

I felt genuinely sorry for the students studying under him — students who were working so hard, unaware that their own “captain” had already given up hope for the ship. It felt like watching a vessel whose leader secretly wished it would sink, its oars moving half-heartedly, while the young rowers trusted their fate to a hopeless course.

Of course, I also understand reality. It is extremely difficult to make a living as an artist. Simply surviving in this field can feel like a miracle. The public rarely celebrates art the way people imagine. Instead, attention flows toward stocks, sports, politics, entertainment, beauty, fashion, and parenting.

The same is true in blogging. When I first started my art-themed blog, I was afraid. It felt like pitching a tent in the middle of an empty field, trying to build a house where no one else wanted to live. But after writing day after day for years, meeting readers and exchanging stories, I’ve come to realize something important: If I stop, who will keep this space alive? Probably no one. So I decided to continue — sincerely and steadily — just to see what might happen.
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Even if nothing comes of it, that’s okay. I’ll just keep going, slowly, like a snail. Because if everyone runs toward the stock market, who will fix the roofs? Someone must keep working, quietly and faithfully.
So now, when I recall the discouraging words I’ve heard throughout my career, I choose to treat them not as wounds but as lessons. They remind me to stay humble, to keep moving, and to keep creating — no matter how small each step may seem.

And for the young artists and students who feel disheartened and believe there is no future, I must keep going — gritting my teeth, clearing the path like a farmer with a sickle, cutting through the overgrown grass to make a way forward.

One day, I will show them. Passion moves slowly, but it moves life itself. It builds influence, it gathers people, and in time, it creates community.
We are all descendants of those ancient ancestors who painted together on the walls of caves. Art has always been our language — our way of being human. We cannot live apart from it, and deep down, we all know this truth.
As technology advances, art must never retreat. It must remain our reminder of what it means to feel, to connect, and to create together.