It’s been a rough couple of months -hell, years- for me. I’ve been hitting closed doors and roadblocks at every turn. The sensible thing would’ve been to give up a long time ago. But art and common sense rarely mix.
So here I am, still creating despite my brain’s better judgement. And when you feel the need to defy all reason, there needs to be a personal why. This is mine.
1. The Start
In order to understand my story, we should start from the beginning: I was born on a cold winter night in… Ok, maybe not that far back. Because I don’t remember much from those times.
But as far as I do remember, I loved hearing stories. We were a family of readers (still are), so my family members used to read books to me. And as soon as I was able, I picked up little illustrated books and started making up stories of my own for the characters on the page.
When I finally learned how to read, I devoured every book I could get my hands on. Literature was my first love.
I also painted a lot in this period. Although I was never good at it (per my teachers), I think I picked up some stuff despite myself (and my teachers). I was building a foundation for what would come later, without realizing it.
2. Ideas Are Bullet-Proof
My awkward teen years were filled with lots and lots of tv shows and movies. My second love was cinema. This is also the time when I first picked up a camera. It was an analog camera that belonged to my uncle. He would take care of the settings, then hand me the camera to take the final image.
As I took more and more photos, I realized I wasn’t half-bad at composing them. Maybe my failed attempts at drawing and all the movies I’d watched had something to do with it. But who knows?
All I know is that I couldn’t get through those years, if it wasn’t for my two great loves: my love of reading that had evolved to include a love of writing, and my love of movies that had developed to a love of imagery, both still and moving.
Lots of movies touched me emotionally at this point of my life. But I remember watching “V for Vendetta” for the first time and literally shaking at some points of the story. Watching it re-awakened something in me. It felt like a fire that had been put out and turned to ash, was raging again. I learned the power of ideas that day, or -as V put it- the fact that “ideas are bullet-proof”.
Stories had helped me make sense of the world, of the chaos we all live in. Now, I decided, was my turn to create some stories and ideas of my own. A decision that shaped my adult life.
3. From Exploring to Holding Fast
I got my first tattoo, on my 25th birthday. It was three symbols that represented the words “explore”, “understand”, and “create”. I really thought I had it all figured out.
I mean, what else was there beside exploring the world, understanding how things work, and explaining it to others? That’s what I wanted to do. That’s what I was good at: writing, taking photos, teaching.
In my 20s, I experimented with every media format that I could: written words, still images, podcasts, videos, graphic design. And I loved all of it, especially when I could combine what I had learned across domains and create something new.
I started out as a journalist, then moved frantically between different jobs and projects. Without really knowing it, I was searching for something. And the irony is, I could only find it when I stopped looking.
All it took was one more economic downturn and one bad breakup to make me question everything. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had no purpose, no ability to bring order. All I saw was chaos.
In those days, it took everything just to pick up a pen or a camera. But when I did, something magical happened. For some brief moments, I felt lighter, like I was in control again.
Slowly but surely, I learned to hold on to those moments a bit longer, or rather to the feeling of “mastery” they gave me, and the ability to sit in the chaos and also see the calm, the peace, and the beauty in the midst of it.
The fire was back. And this time, I was ready. I didn’t accept it as just another part of the chaos. I took control, made it my own, and used it to bring warmth to the cold.
On my 30th birthday, I got another tattoo. This time, it just said “hold fast”. Because sometimes -as I had found out- you need to hold on, go deep instead of far. Go slow instead of fast, learn to sit with the discomfort and master it, to see the order within the chaos.
4. And Now?
I used to get this feeling like I was about to explode from all the stories I held inside. I still get it sometimes, which is wonderful! It keeps me from feeling too old.
But where I would tell any story with the most convenient means available, I now linger. I ponder the decision, imagine all the stories I can tell and all the ways I can tell them. I ask myself, how would the child version of me want to experience this story? Through words, images, sounds, or something in between?
The answer doesn’t always come easy. It requires “holding fast”, not moving fast and breaking things, as you often hear the gurus say these days. It may feel uncomfortable at times, like you’re about to burst. But in my experience, it’s always worth it in the end.
I don’t know how many stories I’ll be able to tell or how much I can teach others in my brief time on this galaxy. But I know I’ll give it my all. Not because I was born to create, but because I choose to do so. Because that’s what makes me human.
So why do I create? Because it’s the only surefire way I know that gives back control to me. And because creating something out of nothing and seeing the impact it can have on the creator and the audience is unlike anything else you can experience.
So even if I couldn’t make another dime from my creativity, I’d still create. Hell, I’ve been having the worst time of my life, and I’m still writing this. Because it’s the only way for me to keep chaos at bay, and to keep the fire burning within, without setting my whole world ablaze.
Maybe it sounds like uncommon sense from outside, but it’s the only cause I’ve found that gives meaning to an otherwise chaotic existence. Art matters. It’s what got me through, it’s what sustains me. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
