I write because it’s my release, my therapy, the art form I most respect. My heroes are writers.
Art should be, at the least, respectful. I’m not crazy about everything thing I read but I’m certainly no expert and art is subjective. I’m practicing, learning to move to a more vulnerable, honest place.
Criticism is not fun but I’ll take it. What I don’t respect is the hit and run type of critique. Don’t tell me who I am, ask me.
The world is a mess. Art, the artist is a safer place or should be; sometimes raw and in your face like the beat poets of the late 50s. Art is there to feel and make you think.
I read a piece from a woman who’s being stalked by nastiness. My heart goes out to her. The stalker doesn’t belong here. When she/even I push that publish button, we’ve given birth to a small part of ourselves.
Be kind. Winston Churchill was asked why during the war he fought so hard to save Britain’s art, his answer was, “If not, why are we fighting?” I paraphrase.