The term ‘Bohemian’ calls to one’s mind images of tattered clothing, greasy hair, tangled beards, empty bottles of absinthe, typewriters with worn away letters and paint-splattered cold-water flats. Fingers yellow, eyes red and stomach empty, the Bohemian haunts seedy taverns, bargain diners and empty, moonlit cobble-stone streets where professionals leaving work, or fancy restaurants, cross to the other side so as to not brush their shoulders with a lower class. Those same professionals may appreciate the fruits of Bohemian labour in art galleries, on bookstore shelves or on stage at the theater, but they will always maintain a distance from the motley assortment of artists. But things have changed. Gone are the days when forward thinking creative types sat idly in watered-down hangouts drinking…