The End of Hope (part 7)

The final word is that there is no final word. The artist always attempts to create “the holy spectral shiver” in his work, something told or made so well as to carry the capacity to actually transform upon experience. Literally.

Many will offer here class sort of debates that art never makes its way to lower classes who have not been trained to make it a priority (or who do not that the time to learn). That is the true power of the greatest art, however. The greatest makes its way through the classes. It lures even the coldest, pragmatic cynic. The kid from nowhere who simply finds something about it irresistible. He will not have the language to explain it, but he will KNOW it.

Most artists have had themselves this sort of transformative experience. Only after receiving such a mind-altering thrill can one truly be inspired to create it. Our ability to receive great art (of all kinds) is directly proportionate to our ability to make it.

So inspiration must be a 2-way communication. We must always be open to the move of the Muse. She will draw us in to something that seems so far removed from anything we are doing. She draws out an insight we didn’t know we were looking for. Then days or weeks later that insight or line makes its way perfectly into a song or art project. Incredible fit. Unbelievable. So good it actually brings into question who is actually writing this thing: she or us? Is she actually the author?

Perhaps we are co-writers, but it seems clear the deeper we get into the process that she is definitely the executive and we the associate. Of course we must have discipline and put the pen to paper but she keeps it from being only mundane business. She gives the whole writing process its meaning. She keeps us coming back time and again to the core, to the essence. She reminds us what words on paper can become. She lifts us out of our limitations to see the transcendent healing power of our work.

And we mustn't forgot it is her who gives us the call in the first place. Think of it. Why did we get involved in the arts so many years ago anyway? Why were so particularly drawn to certain forms and ways of expression? Do we create our tastes or discover them? The reality is that we, along with our teachers and families, etc discovered a deep-rooted passion for our art form. It was already there, responding with great fervor when first given the chance.

It may not have been love at first sight but there definitely was some sort of strong personal connection. Something about the thing kept us coming back again and again. The lord of inspiration was tantalizing us with her beauty.

When we said yes we were rewarded, vindicated with a certain confidence we had in no other arena of life. There, in the midst of our destined art form, we became something new, something powerful, something capable of creation. We found our voice! 

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