"Art is proof of care"
Hi friends,
Before I dive in, if you’re in or near Ithaca, NY, please join me tonight at 5:30 p.m. at Buffalo Street Books for a panel discussion: What to Expect When You’re Expecting (a Debut Novel), with K.E. Semmel (The Book of Losman), Aggeliki Pelikidis (Unlucky Mel), and Roohi Choudhry (Outside Women). This event is free and part of the annual Spring Writes Literary Festival. I hope to see some of you there!
What is all this focus, time, and effort we put into decorating our homes and picking out clothes and music and this mug over that one? Into writing? Into art? Something compels us to turn our attention to the things that matter to us. To explore, communicate, shine a light. Especially now, when there’s so much noise from the internet and media of all kinds, so many voices vying for our attention, how—and why—do we still find the things that matter to us?
Last week I read What Art Does: An Unfinished Theory by Brian Eno and Bette A. It’s a small but mighty dose of inspiration and optimism at a time when we need it more than ever. Whether you consider yourself an artist or not, I recommend you seek it out. As the back cover says, this powerful manifesto is an invitation to explore the question of why we need art. “It is a chance to understand how art is made by all of us. How it creates communities, opens our worlds, and can transform us.” (Spoiler: Art is not just something we hang on our walls or publish in books. It’s in every choice we make.)
This spread in particular made me pause. For days I kept coming back to it, thinking about why caring matters. Caring helps us define and refine what we value and to know we’re not alone. It helps us make sense of things we don’t understand. See a solution. Unscramble the noise. Process information. To care is to be alive. To care is to show up—for yourself, for a feeling, an idea/ideal, another person, a whole community. To care is to notice something bigger than your own world. To look outward as well as in.
If you care, someone else does too.
A flower always radiates color, but until you turn your attention to it, it’s invisible.
Brian Eno and Bette A. say, “Art can form a contrast to the world you’re in, and you find yourself thinking: ‘What is it about this other world that I like, that isn’t in my world?’”
What do you care about right now? And what is it compelling you to do? For me, it’s reviving an old story about grieving someone who’s still alive, which I thought wasn’t going anywhere, and polishing a queer, feminist novel, which I hope is going somewhere. I’d love to hear about what you’re working on. Let’s cheer each other on! Let’s celebrate what art does.
Until soon,
Jen
The quote from the book that you reference ‘What is it about this other world that I like, that isn’t in my world?’ really resonated with me.
Lately I have picked up the practice of art journaling in part to try to keep my mind from perseverating on stressful events happening in my personal life. It’s helping me to either create or be in that ‘other world’ while also staying present.
Your point about art being everywhere in our choices--about art making our lives--sticks with me the most. There's such vast art in the everyday. Sometimes I chronicle a day start-to-finish just to recognize the art in it, which exists even in my very low-key, hermitage corner of the world. Wouldn't it be wonderful if our children/our chosen family had this type of journal to read after we're gone? Like it doesn't have to get published--although, now, thanks to Substack, it can be; it could be an inheritance. It's kind of radical and lovely to elevate the day-to-day like that. After all, life is so often what happens "on the side" while we're chasing the big stuff, the flower we finally see.