I see no reason to denounce the existence of emotions, I will put them in view and maybe even a little exaggerated. Not chide at them–which leads to shame and a deeper brokenness of who we are. Acknowledge the emotional with careful, critical examination.
That pang felt in the chest, that emotional heart-string playing. It plays in expectation, and it plays even louder when the filler vanishes. Its a want, a desire for something. The pang comes from a sense of loss. And if the moment had turned to years and still ended, it would resonate more, but there’s no denying of the uncomfortable feeling–that the felt pressure in the chest and in the mind, is a metaphor and a reality, of some loss.
There’s no denying loss has an incredible forward impact on us, leading us to be emotionally stronger, relationally wise, and to inspire the countless great works most noticable by artists of all kinds. I certainly embraced my (unmethodical) emotions in my college years, using them for subjects of my art–consequently represented through my half-assed efforts (all after wasted hours of anxiety and worry over appropriate subject matter in the first place). Though I didn’t always know how to articulate my work so clear, I understood the undeniable importance for releasing my heart’s concerns into a piece—even though after the work was finished—-I felt a disconnect from it— a detachment. I’m a purger. Get the meaning out of my system; I no longer feel it’s part of me. I can move on.
I often have a hovering sense of fear though, it’s almost like I’m ashamed to admit the emotional weakness in me through explaining my work. In other words, I’m often afraid to admit I have weaknesses, I’m also afraid to expose the weaknesses of others represented in my work. I could blame this fear on our culture’s rather dry, hard-grit-get-over-it rationales; also the fact that our society (truly, most societies) tend to ignore the helpless–blaming their failure on poor choices, rather than encourage solutions. The emotional are weak. And it’s a blame game, and I shamefully admit that I blame, too.
To make a short final thought, I see that really, to get over all this perceived stigma and fear, all I (we, as human beings) need to do is explain our thoughts, what it is we’ve been through. Expression is innate, and we were made to share. It’s very necessary to get over fear and share plainly our experience.
Listening to: Jesse Marchant, “Reminders, Defeats” album Jesse Marchant.
Reading: Humans of New York recent posts, and If These Walls Could Talk: Community Muralism and the Beauty of Justice by Maureen H. O’connell
Thought Pressure 