"THANK GOD FOR ART!!" She screams, internally.
The act of trying, and how it makes us all artists
Recently I watched a video of a young woman named Erin Morton sing “Creep”, by Radiohead. It existed as this lovely beacon of art amidst a week of heavy news (are there weeks without that these days?). Immediately I had to find every angle of this performance I could find on the internet. ART! TALENT! BEAUTY! yumyumyumyumyum.
Thankfully, there were countless options of this performance for me to choose from.
This woman is not (yet!) a big name singer, nor did she have a major online footprint (that I could tell, as I hungrily sought out more of her work) and yet this specific performance is currently making it’s rounds on the internet, largely with a chorus of “this is incredible!” in the comments on these videos.
The power of that collective response I think lies in our deep desire as humans to “try”, and in that is a recognition of courage. Yes, her voice is incredible, and she is clearly talented, but this wasn’t a woman on a stage in front of a huge audience, it was a student at the University Cincinnati, College Conservatory of Music, in front of her peers, in what looks like a gymnasium. But she is trying, she is sharing who she is! And isn’t it beautiful, and doesn’t that just make you happy to be alive?
For me, it massively does. If there is anything I am most grateful for, it is the way I observe folks consistently trying. It may not be every day, or every person, it may not be singing your heart out to a gymnasium — but doing something new, or uncomfortable, or with uncertain outcomes, reminds me how much hope we actually hold within ourselves.
The act of trying, and existing within that uncertainty (will it be good? Will it work this time? Do I even want to keep doing this? Should I spend my money on it?) is what I think art really is; a form of human expression to say “here I am, reaching for more of myself, hoping to be seen.”
Suddenly the pottery class your friend has been meaning to take for three years means more. That’s him, that’s who he is reaching for to see if he wants more of it, for himself. Or the coworker who invites everyone to their Tuesday night improv show (“wait — you do improv? I had no idea!”), or the parent that takes up a new hobby in their 60’s (looking at you, Mom, and when you joined the circus!).
All of it exists with some courage to put it out in the world.
I warn you, if you start to see the world this way, you will cry A LOT. It’s overwhelming to look around and see so much beauty in people, and be rooting for them from the sidelines simply to keep going, not necessarily for a specific or clear outcome, but to just keep moving forward with actions that affirm a future version of themselves.
I will also say, we all probably do it. It’s not specific to people who think they are “makers” or “artists”, it’s everyone; it shows up in hard conversations, in the moment you decide to change your perspective on something, or to start a new habit for yourself. These are tiny moments in the bigger picture of who you are, and as you amass more of those tiny moments, they contribute to a shifting and larger picture.
If you try out a new recipe this week, be sure to salute the artist in you.
Along this thread, I want to share (and shamelessly plug) signs of this very human-ness that I’ve seen recently:
The children’s book that Hollis illustrated and worked on over many years with her best friend, and published last year.
The cabin Jeff and Molly rebuilt after the first one was destroyed in the 2020 wildfires.
The very moving show “Nonsense Makes Sense” that Risa put together after the passing of her father.
The shift from tech career to magician that Emily launched last year.
The regular neighborhood scheduling that Nora does at The Nest, and that Valerie does at Friends & Neighbors.
My sister pursuing a real estate career after working in fashion in NYC.
A new friend Will who has been making an effort to stay with different people every time he comes to SF, as a way to meet new people and connect in randomized ways.