I wrote this with the subjectivity of art in mind. How artists are constantly insecure to share their work because they do not know if its sheer brilliance or if they are just blind to their faults. It’s a constant tug of war between you and that voice in your head. Because sharing your art, be it your words, songs, paintings is like handing someone a piece of your soul. The rejection is often so stinging and ‘soul-crushing’ that many great artists keep it only for themselves. But the truth is, some people will love your work, others will not, regardless of your stature or talent. Sometimes you just have to throw it into the deep end and see if it swims. And if it doesn’t you can always go back to the drawing board. And find comfort in knowing that all artists have moments where they have to start over.
Would people love my poetry, If I couldn’t string a rhyme, Would the call me a green dolt, Or an artist ahead of her time? ——————————————— Would people love my paintings, If I coloured outside the lines, Would they deem me immature, Or hail the depth of my designs? ——————————————— Would people love my songs, If I often strayed off pitch, Would they promptly dismiss me, Or exalt my edgy kitsch? ——————————————— Would people love my stories, If my vocabulary was poor, Should I buy a dictionary, Or does simplicity allure? ——————————————— Would people love my poetry, If none of it ever rhymed, Would they see the irony, Or an artist past her prime?