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To Create Is To Evolve

Art is an opportunity for transformation.

When we create things, we recreate ourselves.

The creative process is reciprocal in this way. When we give our energy to it, it gives us a deeper quality of life in return.

This is the strongest argument, in my opinion, for why we should follow our passions.

The greatest reward for attempting to realize our dreams is not the prospect of receiving critical acclaim or financial remuneration; it’s the immeasurable thrill of gaining access to new dimensions of our own being.

When we engage in acts of creation, we catalyze our evolution.

Build something different. Make something new. Invent something cool.

You may not change the world, but you definitely wont remain the same.

How to Build a Legacy

One constructive deed at a time. One creative act at a time. And so a legacy is built.

It’s always in this order. The work comes first and the glorious narrative of the creative genius, if it ever comes at all, is woven and spun around the world’s reaction to the work.

Artists aren’t made by pursuing “artistry.” They’re too involved with less glamorous things like action, discipline, problem-solving, and failure.

Artists don’t make history. Artists make art. Historians make history. And whenever historians decide to include artists in their stories, they pick the ones who actually got around to making art.

If you want a legacy, do stuff!

Forget about being creative. Forget about being an artist.

Revolutions aren’t ignited by our states of being; they’re ignited by our acts of creation.

The Art of Loving Art

When I was younger, I made up my mind that I would fight for my right to make art. I never allowed anyone to talk me out of following my creative interests. I was driven by the idea that if I persisted long enough, I would eventually create something so marvelous that my sacrifices and sufferings would ultimately be deemed worthwhile.

Today I am still determined to fight for my right to make art, but I am driven by a different conviction: the version of me that takes creative risks is superior in every way to the version of me that hides behind fear. With each attempt to alter my world, I am transformed into a being who possesses a deeper understanding of self, a keener perception of beauty, a richer appreciation for life’s mysteries, and a more heartfelt connection to humanity.

I initially loved art because I believed it would make me significant. Now I love it because it has made me more fully human. It’s made me come alive in ways I never imagined.

Whether I succeed or fail at meeting the expectations I set for myself during childhood, I will never retire from the art of creating space in my life for art.

Art is no longer an ambition. It’s a calling. It’s a spiritual practice. It is my Sadhana. It is the path to my True Self.

Creating isn’t always sexy, but it’s always worth doing

If you spend enough time creating, you’ll inevitably lay a few bad eggs.

If you lay enough bad eggs, however, you’ll eventually hatch something that’s brilliant.

But, as wonderful as it is to do brilliant work, you don’t have to wait until you hatch something brilliant before you can impact the world. The mere act of honestly creating, in and of itself, can go a long way in infusing the world with much-needed inspiration.

Our world isn’t suffering from a lack of brilliance; it’s suffering from a lack of artistic vulnerability, a lack of thinkers and innovators who are willing to create with guts. We see examples of the remarkable every day. What we’re starving for, however, are a few more examples of people who are willing to show us that it’s okay to reveal ourselves and our art to the world even when our creative self doesn’t look sexy.

Feeling ugly and uninspired today? Then, by all means, please create something and share it with us. We need beauty, but more importantly, we need art that’s human.

Where art begins

Art begins with the artist, not the critic.

The critic analyzes art by comparing it to his standards. The creator makes art and thereby continually reinvents the standard.

Without the artist, art cannot exist. Without the critic, art lives on.

The critic has his place, of course, but whatever that place may be, it does not exist until the artist begins his work.

The irony of this is that the fear of criticism, arguably more than anything else, is responsible for confining many artist to a solitary prison of self-censorship.

Perhaps artists need to be reminded of the philosopher Plato and the days when critics feared artists.

Perhaps artists need to be reminded (again and again), that they too have power.

Consider this a reminder.


T.K. Coleman

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