Art is everywhere!

Yours matters.

The closest I’ve ever come to feeling that I was living out my most honest desires is when I was seventeen. I worked incredibly hard during my Junior year of high school, which led to me graduating a mere month after my seventeenth birthday. I hadn’t intended to make that happen, therefore no part of me expected it. But it did. As it would happen, I then narrowly missed the college enrollment deadline and found that I suddenly had seven months’ worth of time on my hands. I could’ve (and arguably should’ve) gone into the workforce. Instead, I opted to hole myself away in my bedroom throughout the entire summer and fall. I’ve been chasing the feelings I experienced during those months ever since.

During the months that I spent both out of school and unemployed, I transformed in ways that I still feel today. I discovered what it looks like, to me, to live as the writer I envision being - dedicating my life fully to my craft. Spending each day surrounded by art, both that I’m creating and consuming. I envy the freedom that my days once possessed, the discipline and order that I brought that worked for me because it was imposed by me.

Only at the age of twenty-four, six years into consistent full-time work, have I seemed to find a modicum of balance between working under a capitalist regime and being an artist. Still, I find myself yearning to somehow escape economic imprisonment and disappear to devote myself to art completely. This form of passive resistance is a long-held practice for large amounts of artists, and some of my personal favorites, like Jack Kerouac and Emily Dickinson. This aspect of their artistry is, at this point, an integral part of their background, and is necessary to understanding their work. I feel that my innate desire for solitude is needed to discern my work too.

This all sounds like I think that I am above, or beyond, law and order. That is not what I intend to convey. Rather, I mean to claim that art and capitalism are not meant to coexist. While great art has been made to commentate on and reflect the systems that capitalism upholds, the breadth of art that we see would be tenfold if artists did not have to contend with the realities of life under late-stage capitalism.

At its core, capitalism aims to make each person’s worth directly linked to their monetary productivity. Their creative output, unless it is actively making them money, is seen as a trivial waste of time. This, to me, is one of the greatest downfalls of our broken system.

I believe that art is capable of changing the world and that each day we must choose to prioritize it, nourish it, and give our heart to it. I’m by no means perfect at this. But I’ve been trying my hardest to implement intentional creativity in my daily life. I may not write every day like I did when I was seventeen, but I at least think about my craft. I may not have endless hours every day to contemplate, map, and master my work, but I’ve still been getting better. I’ve learned that creativity doesn’t exist purely in solitude. It exists in everyday life, and some of the best works of art were given to us in response to those seemingly mundane events. Art is all around if you’re only willing to look for it.

So keep creating. Even if you don’t think it’s ‘good’ (whatever that means), keep writing. Keep taking photographs, and keep drawing. No matter if no one else ever sees it, or if your art page only has six followers. This world is made better by the artists who think that the sum of their work is inconsequential, but keep creating it anyway. I promise to do the same.

Photograph by Nan Goldin