Art Is For Loving – What It Means To Love What You Create

A spoken word piece to help you overcome your inner critic and unconditionally love all your creations, no matter what form they take – writing, cooking, sculpting, paining – anything at all. Art is about joy and zooming in and zoning out. Embrace that feeling as you allow these words to wash over you.

Transcript

Art. Every single one. No exceptions. I love every single thing I've ever created. From the cracked kotbalis and chaklis shaped out of Black Riverside clay when I was five, To the gorgeous dangly dragonflies that can be suspended from one's ears, I love them all. Art is for loving. Years into my expertise in sculpting, When I look at the amateur trinkets I created when I was 19, And I know they are of amateur quality, I still love them. Because art is for loving. Love that goes into the very act of bringing it into being, Woven from thin air and pure potential. The scratching of a brown hazelnut scented paper made flare pen on yellowing ruled paper. Banging of a texture hammer on a copper disc, And watching in wonder each time as the beautiful intentional dents appear. The rolling of the ravioli dough, Filling it with pumpkin garlic puree, Steaming it and dousing it in spicy cashew mint sauce. Art is for loving no matter what form it takes. There is no sanity in art. There's only wildness and freedom. There's only soothing and zooming in and zoning out. Art is for joy. It is for no expectation except for the expectation of joy. So, Why wouldn't any porter love the pot she made? Art is for loving and love in its purest form does not fathom what sanity means. They are not of the same word, This word called sanity and this feeling called love. As I write this, With my brown, Hazelnut-scented paper-made flare pen in this brand new, Incredibly old notebook with its thin, Yellowing pages, The ink bleeds through the paper, Creating shadows on the other side. And as I write over the shadows, Even that mess is beautiful. A bellimpsest. This freedom, This joy, This unconditional lack of expectation. What's not to love? How can one not love? Every single thing, No exception. I love everything I ever create. My love and joy and gratitude, A palimpsest over the voice that chants, This is not worthy of love. Even those contrasting layers of devotion and criticism are pretty. A harmony of different pitched voices. Art is for loving. And there's no two ways about it.