That was a horrible title.
But like the other less, equally or more horrible things about me/I could do, I’m gonna put it out there, raw and semi-permanent on the face of both the virtual and material world.
To be an artist is to create and recreate. To create and recreate is to be vulnerable. To be an artist is to be exposed, criticized, broken down, blown up in unimaginable proportions, taken out of context, diluted, poisoned, wrapped in cheap plastic bags, vandalized or simply ignored and erased from memory.
As an artist, you would continuously find yourself caught up in same type of crossroads: Be authentic and please yourself OR bend over backwards just to please those you want to please (which is practically everybody).
Your feelings can range from a simple existential discomfort to soul-tearing agony. It basically depends on how daring you are in stepping up your game. The more you choose to embrace authenticity, the more you’ll get better on it, the less difficult feelings you’ll get.
To be an artist and a woman is another thing. Combining the two suddenly makes it more complex and intense. Suddenly, others (including fellow ladies) become more critical, too. Layers of standards and prejudices pile up all at once.
It’s not easy for the people around the artist and the woman as well. Sometimes, things disclosed and exposed can get way beyond their reality and understanding.
To love an artist and a woman needs a certain amount of self esteem and unconditional strength and love.You have to be adventurous enough to not only tolerate, but to enjoy and appreciate all the honesty, contractions, contradictions and ecstasy of living in a life of sensitivity and self scrutiny.
But how could life be possibly better lived other than to live it inside out? I know that it’s never easy for someone to be with me. But I still want to do it this way; breaking down walls, building them up, reconstructing bridges, molding the sky. A life like this cultivates courage, strength, humility, forgiveness, love, appreciation and freedom. The truth is, others’ opinions – both compliments and criticisms – don’t really matter. We can only learn from our own experiences and observations. The meaning of our lives and the worth of what we do do not really depend on anyone other than ourselves.
Creation, exhibition, humiliation, resurrection – these are all important parts of the journey to self and universal knowing and unconditional love. So suck in your temporary fears and march out in the open. It’s all meaningful. It’s all worth it.