Identity.
“Where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy?” — Alan Walker (Faded, 2015).
I believe to lose one’s identity is to be lost and to be lost is such a cold stinging feeling. Google defines identity as the set of unique qualities, beliefs, traits and experiences that define a “person” or “group”.
Most of the time, society condemns what it cannot understand. It could honestly be something as small as being the weird kid and all of a sudden people begin to avoid you or straight up berate you. Well, not all the time, but most of the time. Listen, this isn’t about “the weird kid”, I already wrote something on that. This is about art.
Art in one word is expression. Art begins to lose its purpose and identity when it’s not acknowledged. Art is created to be respected, to send a message and to be cherished. People who practice art are misunderstood again and again. A stereotype of never amounting to anything is frequently plastered on us.
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But I ask, are these misunderstandings not made by the same people who enjoy different art forms we produce ? Are these not the same people who pay money to access these art forms? Whether it’s a concert after a long day of work, a trip to the art gallery, an outing to see play or a movie…….virtually everyone enjoys art. I think a lot of people care a lot more about the result rather than the process. Not a lot of people care about the countless hours of work and countless hours of “do it again” that goes into making an art form a lot of people end up describing as a “masterpiece”.
Art is something to be loved, cherished and supported. Those who practice it feel the birth of a primal connection with the threads of creativity, they feel a sense of liberalism that isn’t ordinary, a sense of freedom that comes with the natural nature of what art is meant to be — “expression”. When it’s labelled as useless or irrelevant or when those who practice it feel restricted, the threads of creativity begin to wither. Think of a vibrant flower bed that gets neglected when their owner forgets to water them. They start to wonder …..what’s the point? They begin to wither and dry up, they start to lose their color, they start to lose the beauty that makes them what they are. They lose their identity.
Without that identity, a hollow exists. Echoes of what could have been, echoes of a dormant potential…..all gone.
Maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Throughout history, a good amount of great people forged their status through years of what some call “hell” and many years of rejections and setbacks. Giving up is almost the most logical thing to do. “What’s the point?” The only question that runs through the mind of an artist berated too many times. Giving up honestly means the voices won, both the voices of the world and the voices in your head. And just like that….the battle for identity is lost when the war ahead still had a glimmer for victory.
