a question for artists eternal

There is a place of darkness and pain where the words do not come.  I’m not sure they even exist.

A place where a true writer or an artist does not exist. Ceases to exist. I’m not sure which.

What is this darkness that lies in the core of so many artists? Painters. Singers. Sculpturers. Writers. Composers.

Is it the other side of their gift? The yin to their creative yang? The black hole on the other side of the light?

The greatest gifts come with a curse, a truth recognized by great minds and thinkers through the ages.

I cannot claim to understand why this is or fathom an explanation that would quiet my own inner beast. I recognize that I am asking the right questions.

Perhaps in time, within my lifetime, the answer will be revealed. Perhaps it will not.

Were there a time machine at my disposal, I would enter and switch the dial to the late 1800s-early 1950s and inquire of Constantin Brancusi whether he met the darkness face to face. Whether he found himself submerged in it, against his will and choice, rendered powerless by its great force and might matched only by that of water. If his response were yes, I would inquire how he kept his fire lit, as an artist, a master sculptor.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: