Confession

They say confession is good for the soul.

I think some of us have difficulty baring our souls and our sins, and the universe knew we would. These are the people created to be creative. Somehow, when a creative picks up a pencil to write or draw, or a paintbrush or spray paint can, or whatever tools apply to that artist’s preferred medium, it becomes an extension of ourselves – a valve through which, our confession can be expressed.

Sometimes the confession is love, all lovely and beautiful, and sunny and warm. Sometimes it is sin, and, repentant, the creative releases the iniquity through the art she creates. Sometimes it’s anger, or passion, or heartache, or bliss. Whatever our vehicle, our souls are bared through the process. I think this is why creatives are so sensitive about our art. On paper or canvass, our “job” is not just our job. What we do is spill a part of ourselves before others, and ask for acceptance, forgiveness, love, indignation, action…recognition.

I think the most painful thing an artist can experience in any area of life is indifference. As creatives, we understand negative emotions as well as the positive. We will embrace your hatred of our work, or your adulation. What we cannot bear is apathy. Tell me that you feel what I’m feeling, or tell me that you hate what I love, but do not walk past my heart laying there on the easel. Do not ignore my soul opened before you in this song. I’ve lain myself before you. This is more than a song or painting or book. This is my confession, and the absolution comes when our art is received and acknowledged.

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