Darkness without a light (a reshare from a year ago)
and why creating still matters
It has been a very busy fall thus far. I don’t like being too busy, but sometimes it is what it is. Homeschooling, teaching, family life, home life, events, and a visit from out of town family have all been occupying my time, and there has been very little left for creative projects, but I am hoping to make more time again starting this week.
I realized this morning that last week marked one year since I started writing on Substack. I sent out my first post on October 5th 2023.
It has also been exactly one year since the war in the Middle East began, so I thought it would be appropriate to re-share a post I wrote last year in response to the events of October 7th, 2023. It was only my second post I ever published on Substack and I was trying to process the horrific events. It is interesting to read this now and realize that I expressed similar thoughts in my most recent letter.
Dear Reader,
In light of what is currently happening in this world, I changed the publication of the post originally planned for this week, to next week.
I feel the desire to express something that is very much connected to the motivation behind my art, which I described in my previous and first post here on Substack. I talked about my continuous desire to explore the beauty that comes out of suffering and the experience of pain that is often connected to the experience of joy.
I still believe this to be true. However, I don’t want this to come across as an attempt to explain suffering nor as an attempt to always find meaning in pain. I believe it is important to say that suffering is simply that — suffering. I believe that darkness can be so dark that it is impossible to see even the smallest light, and, most importantly, I don’t have an explanation for any of it.
I believe it is pivotal to let this be the truth and sit with this truth. It is important to grief with those who grief and it’s appropriate to be upset and disturbed, especially when we are faced and bombarded with news of suffering that is incomprehensible for most of us.
Beauty still exists
Whenever I am confronted with the terror that happens in this world, I start questioning what the purpose of art is, or better, what the purpose of my art is. It seems trivial in comparison and certainly not worth spending my time on.
Why bother when this kind of horror is going on and we are helplessly left with thoughts and prayers, fear and uncertainty?
Where is the beauty when you face that kind of darkness?
As I am processing these thoughts, I am walking through the woods on a gorgeous fall day looking at the breathtaking beauty of the richly colored trees and all the golden light surrounding me. It’s peaceful and quiet and all I can hear are some birds singing, a group of geese flying over my head, determinedly escaping to a warmer abode, and the leaves whispering and rustling in the wind.
Beauty still exists.
The greatest challenge can also be your greatest gift
I have always been very sensitive to the suffering in this world; too sensitive, as I was often told. At times I feel the heaviness of it all so strongly that it paralyzes me. At times the world can feel so burdensome to me that it is hard to see the good in anyone or anywhere. This kind of sensitivity has certainly been a challenging trait in my life and in the life of the people who love me. It can put me on a negative downward spiral that is difficult to get out of. I used to think that I was defective in some way or that something was wrong with me.
It’s taken me the better half of my life to realize this, but I now know that this kind of sensitivity is a gift when used in the right way, and I now know that I am not alone in it.
What you think of as a weakness in yourself can also be one of your biggest strengths. And, as I have slowly discovered, this kind of sensitivity to darkness is often my greatest resource in finding inspiration to create art.
Beauty still exists.
The purpose of creating
Even if I don’t feel it in times of fear and uncertainty, I do know that when we are not left with much else, it is important to continue to create. It doesn’t even matter what we create, for the act of creating itself, without perfecting any results, is beautiful and is enough.
It is important to continue putting art out into this world when terror and horror seems to be all around us, far away and yet so close.
We don’t know what will happen and we certainly have no control over it, so what other choice do we have except to keep going and keep creating? What is there to do except to extend kindness towards our family, friends and strangers and put connection and community above anything else?
The greatest responsibility of an artist in my opinion is to translate our human experiences and emotions, anything from anguish to joy, into something beautiful, if only one person will connect with it.
Beauty still exists.
All the images I am sharing here today are photographs from my series called “Torn” that I started working on shortly after the start of the Ukrainian war last year. They seemed appropriate then and they are appropriate now. You can read more about it HERE.
Thanks for reading!
I love this once again...beautiful, real and relevant. So many of us are feeling it and questioning but... yes, SO important to keep the light on. Thank you Manuela.
This resonates with me a lot, Manuela! The happenings in the world -especially the wars- are laying heavy on me. I am endlessly thankful to live in such a safe place, but seeing the images from around the world is quite overwhelming. In these moments, I am questioning the purpose of making art too. But I know it helps me to cope with my feelings or sometimes just to get away from them.