The Pursuit of Legacy

The sunlight dapples through the palm fronds outside my Florida window, casting intricate shadows across the deck in the back yard where I sit with my coffee this morning. A gentle breeze carries the scent of jasmine and salt air, while a pair of sandhill cranes strut purposefully across my boat dock. The distant rumble of thunder promises an afternoon shower, but for now, the sky remains a brilliant blue, unmarred by clouds. The beauty of this tropical morning truly awakens my senses. And soon our winter here will be over and we’ll return to a new adventure.

Haircut Wisdom

The recent passing of a world-famous celebrity was met with “I don’t know who that is” by the 30-year-old who was cutting my hair. “He was a huge star, he did all these amazing movies.” Yet the response was, “Never seen him, never heard of him.” My realization from that moment is that legacy may not matter. No matter how famous, there is no guarantee you’ll be remembered. Sure, there will be film buffs who remember him for a generation, and his IMDb profile or Wikipedia page will live on forever. But as I think about all the moments in this man’s impressive life, where he must have been striving to get discovered, to get film roles, and to get fame, it has all gone up in smoke because he outlived most of his contemporaries, and the next generation who knows him — my generation — is the next to fade into oblivion. And the one interview I did see about him said, “He was grumpy on set because he demanded perfection.” Some legacy.

So why bother? I did not know Gene Hackman, but lots of my friends knew him because he was an artist. Many people I know painted or took classes with him. It’s hard to know if acting in films was “just a job” or was an obsession. Did he do it to become famous, or did he become famous because he was so good at it?

The Great Seduction

Fame is a seductive beast. I’ve never experienced much of it, other than a few fleeting moments in my career. I define fame as “You can’t go anywhere in the world without someone recognizing you.” My acquaintance Pete Rose, the baseball player, was addicted to it. He could not get enough. One day at lunch for a business meeting, we were interrupted at least 50 times for autographs and photos. He loved it. But when he asked for another meeting because we couldn’t get our meeting done and time ran out, I insisted on a private room. It seemed like a good idea, but then we were interrupted at least 10 times by his employees asking him to sign baseballs. He needed constant attention. Isn’t that what drives the desire for fame?

Becoming a Somebody

I once went to a radio broadcast industry conference and felt like a nobody. No one knew me, no one paid attention to me, I had nothing to offer anyone. So, I told myself, next year at this time, I’ll be well known and be a somebody. By implanting that into my subconscious, I found myself buying a failing radio industry trade magazine, writing weekly editorials, and grabbing attention with my controversial thoughts. A year later, everyone knew who I was, wanted my attention, spent time with me, and invited me to the best parties.

A Confession

If I’m being honest here, and a little vulnerable, I think some form of attention or fame is what drives me. I don’t understand why; I got lots of attention from a loving family as a child. But I built my first career as a radio DJ, and one of my life goals has been to act in a major motion picture. The only acting I’ve done was high school theater and a student film in San Francisco. On radio, people knew my voice and my name in the towns I worked in for short periods of time. And it was a lot of fun to hang out and meet lots of famous musicians (though most of them at the time were drug addicts, and I didn’t do drugs).

A New Spotlight 

Almost five years ago, when I started my daily YouTube show, Art School Live, it was like going back to my DJ days. Only this time, I was on camera. And because of high viewership during COVID, I had a couple of moments where I got unexpected attention. (Now at 17.5 million views!) Once in Mexico, walking down the street, a stranger approached and said they watched me daily; once in a restaurant in Austin, someone interrupted my dinner for a photo and autograph. Maybe a couple of other times, one a few weeks ago, during my Winter Art Escape artists’ retreat. It’s hardly fame. It’s just a couple of people who like what I do in a very small playground.

My Happy Place

I have to admit that I love going to an event and being acknowledged on stage or being asked to speak. My favorite thing is to be on stage at the Plein Air Convention, or anywhere, pulling stunts and having fun. In fact, I might like it a little too much, and I don’t understand why I have this need to be noticed. Am I a narcissist? Insane perhaps?

Am I Crazy?

I recently asked an AI about these feelings, wondering if there was something wrong with me. The response suggested a mix of normal human traits — a desire for recognition, some mild narcissistic tendencies (not pathological), and existential questioning about the meaning of effort and legacy. The AI pointed out that these traits might be amplified by career choices and cultural influences rather than representing any deep-seated flaw.

Inner Conflict?

There is a tug of war going on with my life. This goes back to my desire to live with humility and not centered on my ego. But the conflict I face is whether or not legacy matters. Should I do things to be remembered? It’s unlikely, so it may not be worth the effort. Even my books won’t be noticed in 50 years. 

Deeper Truth

Perhaps what matters isn’t being remembered forever, but rather the impact we have in the present moment. Gene Hackman may not be known to every young hairstylist, but his work touched countless lives during its time. The joy, insight, or entertainment he provided was real, even if temporary. Maybe our obsession with leaving a permanent mark is missing the point entirely.

Being Authentic No Matter What

What if instead of chasing fame as a form of immortality, we focused on creating authentic work that matters now? What if the measure of success isn’t being remembered by strangers a century from now, but how deeply and meaningfully we connect with those around us today? Perhaps the greatest legacy isn’t a name etched in stone, but the ripples of positive influence that continue long after we’re gone, even if no one remembers where they began. Investing in raising great kids is probably the highest form of legacy. 

Advice for Fame Junkies

If you find yourself drawn to the need for recognition, here’s what I’ve learned: Examine your motives honestly. Ask yourself if you’re seeking attention to fill a void or because you genuinely have something valuable to share. Channel your desire for recognition into creating work that serves others, not just your ego. Enjoy the spotlight when it comes, but don’t let it define your worth. Cultivate sources of internal validation that don’t depend on applause. And remember that even the most famous people are eventually forgotten — so focus on living meaningfully today rather than being remembered tomorrow.

There is no doubt that ego has driven a lot of my decisions throughout my life. And because of it, I’ll be able to look back at some accomplishments that perhaps changed the lives of others. The influence on others is more meaningful than stroking one’s own ego.

Is Pride OK?

I think we all want to be proud of what we accomplish. Many of us live for those moments when others share how much they value us. While others, including some of my family members, never want to be in the spotlight, because they’ve been with me when dinner was interrupted by a well-meaning follower. Yet pride can take you down if you let it. Manage it carefully.

The Right Purpose

There isn’t a right or wrong, yet I felt the need to understand my motivation and what causes it. And we would have no monumental buildings or bridges, technology, or great sports teams if people were not driven by recognition. There is nothing wrong with it — unless it turns you into a narcissist who cares about no one else and has no empathy. I’ve met “stars” I would not want to spend an hour with because they are so self-focused or so unpleasant, and there are others I’d love to spend a few days painting with. Two days painting with Tony Bennett were delightful. He was humble, and interested. On the other hand, an encounter with a world famous actor (sorry, no names) revealed this supposed nice guy to be a nasty person. 

Perhaps there’s wisdom in that — creating not for legacy or fame, but because it’s what we’re called to do. The beauty we create and the lives we touch — that matters now, in this moment. And maybe that’s enough.

Eric Rhoads