Hidden Art
Artists work against an imaginary clock. We believe our ideas have expiration dates. I’ve always felt the need to hurriedly express how I feel, in mind, body, and emotion. Get the word down. You take my ideas. Have them and do what you wish. In my heart and thoughts, they only collect time. It seems as if I sit on ideas for too long, they rot. This is partly why I started writing in the first place. The space in between our ears only allows room for so many things.
The mystery of an artist draws us back to their genius. Not knowing them urges our curiosity. Strangely, this is how relationships work as well, especially romantic ones. If someone is difficult to grasp, we’re more eager to try and do so.
We’re willing to play chess against our person’s heart if, in the end, they’re willing to let it go. But that is the closest we’ll get to what’s really inside.
This is why we love rappers like Kendrick, and a more arcane J Cole. Artists like Beyonce take extended life interludes filled with us searching for them, and waiting expectantly for their return. The thrill of mastering their way of expression, in our own heads, is why we look forward to doing so. But they must stay mysterious. Remain hidden. Make a home of the shadows because we’ll only love them while they’re there. Becoming conspicuous is a danger to the impact of your art.
I struggle with this nonetheless. Wanting to make myself visible in both art and corporeality. But I’m realizing that I must give people who I am through only one of these things, not both. One way or another though, they will see me.
No amount of words can hold who I am. But I also can’t fully carry the aesthetic of my art in my body, although, I value my art. Not more than myself, but I love being told how good my writing is more than I do being reminded of the charm of my smile or demeanor. So, if I have to hide my smile for people to wait expectantly for my words, I will do so. You will still be able to find me, just in writing.
Told by: Kwon
