Juliana just read a beautiful poem to me.
Should someone step in and help someone in need, even though it might deprive the rest of the world of their genius?
I don’t know.
I do my best work when I am sad, or angry, or my insecurities drive me to fervor and obsession.
I don’t think we can make art without suffering. I think art is built from suffering. Art is our coping mechanism. Even our favorite love songs and our favorite blissful paintings fill us with a sense of melancholy because they remind us of the impermanence of happiness.
One day you will lose the love of your life. One day the sun will set on you and one day, you will die.
Art is a way for us to come to grips with these painful realities. They give us something to hold onto.
I think of the artists that changed the world. I think of the artists that changed my life. I think of Jimi Hendrix and Bradley Nowell. It is difficult to separate their pain from their genius.
If it meant that he never would have made his music, am I willing to let Bradley Nowell live a quiet, peaceful life?
Is the world better with Jimi Hendrix’s music? Or is the world better with Jimi Hendrix in it?
Is it better to be happy? Or is it better to be remembered?