So hard to feel like you’re investing yourself, and things are futile. It’s hard to feel like you pour your heart out into your art, and you end up vulnerable…and disappointed. You have to be so raw, but then it’s like you open yourself up to being hurt even more. But you can’t make art without passion and truth…so you have to…but then when it doesn’t pan out the way you dreamed or desired or expected, it just feels like a big slap in the face. A voice that echoes with the wounds of your past: you’re not good enough, you’re not cut out for this, no one will care anyways. You feel like you waste your time. And then…there it is…the greatest fear of all…that in the end, you didn’t really matter. Your voice, your art…it’s all vapor. Meaningless.
What a tragic message to internalize as an artist.
And what a lie!
When we measure the meaningfulness by the number of views we have, we diminish the LIFE we live, and the lives we touch in our process.
I used to be in a band (never toured), and I look back on those days, and they are some of my favorite memories. The camaraderie, the joy of being a part of something, the process of creation, the love of music, the thrill of performing…it was family. Music makes family.
And so yeah, we never got to live out our dreams, but the process of playing and creating was actually the magic of the dream anyways. I now work with tons of touring artists, and it’s easy to lose that magic, even when the “dream” is reality.
And in that sense, the meaning isn’t in the audience, it’s in the process.
What you’re doing ACTUALLY MATTERS. Honest art MATTERS. You live an inspiring life by CHOOSING to create.
Thank you for choosing to continue writing and performing and engaging with it all. I am inspired by your perseverance. It is beautiful.