One Powerful Reason Your Writing Is Priceless
by Phianna Rekab
I’ve had my share of rejections writing novels, essays and poems in my own style, even nonfiction that reflects my life. Sometimes it seems there’s a proper way of writing that’s predefined and any deviation from the norm will likely be met with scorn, snobbery or the nasty rejection letter. Yet, there’s the feeling to continue writing my way, for its not about me, it’s what I feel compelled to do. I’m looking forward to the day I no longer care to write, but it’s not today.
“It is not so much where my motivation comes from but rather how it manages to survive.” — Louis Bourgeois
This article was written months ago, and rejected more than once by a publication. Maybe I should let it be, but I have something important to say to someone who discounts their writing or artistic contribution because others fail to see its value.
There was a time I rejected classical music. It was thrust upon me as a graduation requirement. Surprisingly after a while it became one of my favorite musical expressions. The same could be said for classical art. I’d never on my own volition go to a gallery or museum, spending copious time observing and taking in pieces from artists all over the world, self quizzing to identify various artistic movements, periods and artistic styles if I listened to peers or associated the building’s gray, monotonous color and amorphous shape with boredom.
The appreciation for these cultural forums and their art forms came from a willful immersion. I would have missed out on European and African art if not for secondary and post-secondary educational requirements. What if this transcends to other things in life we’ve cast as low quality, trash, too different and undeserving of our time?
“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.” — Auguste Rodin
Art gives us so much in terms of capturing how we love, our hopes, desires, fears, the ironies of life all rolled up in a neat little package. Are we to only be concerned with the way we or our direct ancestors have lived?
Rap music at one time was considered lowbrow. Guilty of this snubbing I was pulled in one day by a head banging, heart thumping beat and had to know the lyrics rolling off the rapper’s tongue. It was a poetic rhapsody of life so real, so raw, so beautiful, uplifting and relatable. Eric. B rapped “I came in the door…”. Before then you’d never catch me listening to rap music.
Whenever I see someone from another ethnicity banging their head to rap music I can’t help but think ‘they get it’, then I’m stoked because it means ‘we’re getting it’. Could art be the elusive bridge to tolerance?
Art is a crossover vehicle, bridging cultural gaps, and that is one reason art is priceless but there’s an even more important reason.
Life is not perfect. It’s a variety of personalities, conflicts, strife, competition, hardships and victories, twists and turns we experience differently that’s best expressed from a variety of viewpoints. There is beauty in this struggle worthy of being captured in art.
How else as writers can we create characters true to life if we live and are exposed to a one-sided reality?
Because of people’s sensitivities, artists find palatable ways to display the emotional pain of suffering, the negativities and ugliness of life we’d all like to pretend doesn’t exist. In truth, life isn’t all about ethereal calm, beauty, a field of sunflowers, a flowery or love-laced poem or Bach. Art and artists are well-capable of portraying the many facets of life their own way.
We have a tendency to stick with what we’re comfortable with, what we know, because it gives us the ‘fix’ we seek to take us away from our own reality and as such we’ll avoid anything that looks or sounds different. It’s a matter of personal preference, no doubt, but maybe every once in a while we might want to see the world from another perspective, for balance, personal growth, to see how far we’ve come and unearthing originality in the characters we create.
“I never paint my dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality.” — Frida Kahlo
Artistic expression is notoriously a vehicle for us to share individuality and commonality, for others to experience different worlds and even helps to heal wounds but what it’s really good at is making us feel.
“The principles of true art is not to portray, but to evoke.” — Jerzy Kosinski
Growing up in the inner city and reading Robert Frost’s, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening as a student, I could relate to the ambivalence of looking at something desirable and purposely deciding to avoid it. Imagine stores along Fifth Avenue in New York City at Christmas — snowy backdrop, blazing fireplace with luxurious stockings overladen with gifts hanging from a giant mantle, towering Christmas tree with ornate ornaments on every branch, a glittery star at the top, colorful wrapped presents stacked haphazardly on its velvet skirt. A perfectly sized mechanical family in holiday getup (only available in this store) smiles happily, oblivious to the wealth of each other’s company and the gifts they’ve received (only available in this store) strewn on the floor around them while the family pet watches expectantly. Scenes like this repeats in beautifully decorated store windows highlighting some of the most interesting and amazing items they sell, yet I knew, being a teen in those social times, entering such an establishment might not be wise. I’d simply look from the outside. I doubt Mr. Frost thought a poor teenager from the inner city might share a similar apprehension and find commonality in a situation he’d written about decades earlier. That feeling of looking in from the outside evoked other emotions like being wrongfully and prematurely judged, and the reality of being a have-not, and it stirred that pain. Mr. Frost and I bonded in quite the unusual way over a poem.
No matter the art form, there is a message or an invocation in it for all of us and that’s the crux in its value.
At first impression, it’s natural to shrug off and dismiss some art thinking it doesn’t speak to us, it’s not for us based on what others say, or it makes us see what’s too real; but a second or third glance could be the key to broadening our world and seeing what’s not necessarily beautiful or perfect but what is another person’s relationship with life and nature. How priceless is that?
What’s sad is the likelihood of missing out on artistic expressions because it doesn’t fit a familiar mold.
Art won’t always be feel-good, happiness evoking, escapism, but instead stories that will tear your heart out, kick your appreciation and gratitude for your own life to new heights, inspire you to make social change or abate your personal biases. You might even see yourself in the messages of lowbrow art that stirs empathy, compassion, gratitude and the thing I believe most valuable of all — understanding. What’s more beautiful and priceless than that?
Don’t rob us of your rejected or lowbrow art. Clean it up and share it with the world. Maybe it hasn’t found its audience yet but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist, or not on their way.
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