I’m currently reading a book about Michelangelo, and what strikes me most about his early work isn’t just the beauty of the frescoes but how they weren’t created by one person alone.
Those soaring cathedral ceilings were the result of shared labor: apprentices crushing pigments, scaling sketches, transferring designs, and painting side by side. These masterpieces were collective efforts — built through skill, trust, and collaboration.
And yet, that’s not the story we’re taught.
Instead, we’re given the myth of the lone genius — the singular, heroic artist whose talent alone produced something magnificent. We marvel at the scale and skill, but we also absorb a quieter message: this is something only a rare individual could ever do. Something unreachable. Something we could never create ourselves.
What’s often left out is support. Many of history’s great artists were financially sustained by patrons like the Medici family. They weren’t scrambling to survive. They lived in cultures that valued beauty, creativity, and innovation — and invested in them.
So why the myth?
Why do we cling to a story of rugged individualism that isn’t true — a story that tells us we must do everything alone, never ask for help, and push ourselves until we burn out?
We’re living in a modern version of that same myth now — one capitalism loves. We’re encouraged to build on our own backs, to bootstrap endlessly, to see collaboration as weakness rather than strength. Community becomes optional. Co-creation becomes rare. And shared credit becomes threatening.
The cost is high.
This way of thinking burns us out. It isolates us. It creates impossible standards for success and quietly tells us we’re failing if we need help. It suggests our work is less valuable if it’s shared — less important if our name isn’t the only one attached.
But history tells a different truth.
Meaningful, lasting work has always been made together.
