You wouldn’t and shouldn’t in any capacity want to become an artist’s muse. On a foundational level it's an egotistical endeavor. When someone takes the mantle of being an artist, they hollow themselves and their experiences for an ounce of originality and creativity. The artist does this in hopes of forming cultural capital on a societal landscape. But humans are so fast at making and so slow at living, they lose experiences to share and need someone to live through, to possess, to depict. That’s the role of a muse, and the benefits of becoming one is to join the cultural landscape as a commodifiable entity, among the pantheon of figures and influence.
As art is a marker of the period’s social landscape, you allow yourself to be possessed by what is essentially a vampire of your experience. Sometimes the muse goes out of their way to reach objectification. But in most scenarios there is no love found, only a kind of ownership. As the artist is a conduit of society and culture, the muse is the conduit of the artist.
Artists such as Pablo Picasso would promise cultural immortality to his muses but mistreat and violate them instead— taking advantage of their dynamic. Musehood is mistaking love with possession. Masanisa Fukase was obsessed with his work that depicting his wife was no longer an expression of love and inspiration but instead an obsession with constant depiction.
Others may argue against me in the realms of positive opportunity, but in practice musehood constantly treads the line of being psychologically exploitative. This is a commonly overlooked dynamic and one that should be tread carefully, especially within the realm of romance. Artists need to be aware of their power and the role they play in terms of not only depiction, immortalization, and the connection to their muse.