Those Who Create

"But I've got a plan
Why don't you be the artist
And make me out of clay
Why don't you be the writer
And decide the words I say "

-Ellie Goulding, The Writer

I read somewhere that Ellie Goulding had originally planned on writing something entirely different for her second album, but she went through a horrible break-up and locked herself up to write about it, and boom, Halcyon was born.  She said that even when people are in love, they tend to enjoy songs about heartbreak. I tend to agree with her. 

Real art is never forced, but it is conceived without any kind of warning.  The people who inspire the most beautiful art seem to drop out of the sky, like an angel.....a muse.  They knock the artist off her feet and then leave her to pick up the broken pieces.  What happens to the artist is this....she puts the pieces together in some new shape, creating a new masterpiece, and when she is finished,  she thanks her muse for the experience.  Artists are beautiful creatures because they take a situation or emotion and can see it in so many different lights and colors.  Artists spill it on the paper or canvas or instrument and while they do, they grieve, they grow, they change, create and then eventually go in search of something else that will inspire them. 

I was looking back at what I have posted the last couple of years because my blog just had its 3rd birthday and my best writing has been about how I have felt when my heart is breaking.  Even if I have written positive things about love or loving or what I have learned through a multitude of experiences, they have only resulted from my heart being shattered first.  I had my heart broken in many different ways, but I would say that my best posts were inspired by one person and he knows who he is.  This person provoked so many emotions that I didn't know I had, or even that I was capable of feeling and what happened is that I endlessly analyzed myself, my feelings, my confusion, my heart, this person and his beauty, what I looked like because of him, and I created art.  To this person, I am very thankful for the experience because I went somewhere with my writing that I never would have gone.  You can't see an invisible road, but occasionally someone grabs your hand and shows you what you didn't know was there.  I don't only write on this blog either, so trust me when I say, I have some masterpieces that are buried deep where only I can find them and that are all about this person. 

I was told last week, and have been told before, that I have been a muse.  A guy last week told me that literally every time we speak, he writes a song.  He calls me Callie after Calliope, the Greek Goddess of epic poetry.  Cute.  When I hear that I inspire people, I most definitely am inspired just by hearing that because I know what that feels like.  To a painter, a musician, and a writer, you understand the magic that happens when you visualize something in your mind and therefore have a bond with each other, artistically.  You respect the process.  What is probably the most amazing part of the process is the original seed that grows into the flower.  One of my professors made us get into the habit of carrying around a notepad and pen because he said inspiration hits you when you least expect it, and if you don't write it down immediately, it will vanish as quickly as it came.  It's true, too. Artists all know that.

I went to the High Museum of Art one afternoon.  I sat on a bench for about 30 minutes staring at "The Girl with the Pearl Earring", who was herself, a muse.  While I looked at the Dutch painting, I thought about the relationship between the muse and painter, I thought about what she was thinking, about what he saw in her.....I was enjoying the silence that was allowing my thoughts to run wild.  My notepad helped me organize them, and I was on an artistic roll.  I was thinking about how much I needed inspiration to write, how I felt when I didn't have it, and how it must be to not know what this feels like.  I thought about how I know both sides, how it feels to be inspired and inspire others, so therefore, I knew how the Dutch girl must have felt as she was painted.

I left the painting and decided to walk across the courtyard.  I actually had an entire story in my head when all of a sudden, someone snatched my hand.  I looked up, startled, and it was a guy.  This guy looked an awful lot like the person who inspired most of my posts in the last couple of years, which I thought was kind of a funny joke from the universe to me.  As I am inspired by something else, the one who broke my heart snatched me back without even knowing it.  The man insisted on dragging me around the museum.  I said ok.  He was very touchy, which I did not like, but he was nice enough.  It turned out that he was a painter.  He showed me his work and he painted very well.  He said he would like to paint me.  I thought "How funny is this that I am walking around thinking about the relationship between an artist and its muse, I sit and stare at a painting of a muse for half an hour, I am feeling inspired, and someone who looks like someone who has aggressively inspired me for two years is trying to turn me into HIS muse?"  Something about being asked to be a muse while I was already feeling inspired as an artist made me lose my thoughts, my feelings, the entire story in my head.  Everything I had wanted to write about was gone.  I have always wondered if I lost the inspiration because he resembled my muse, or if it was something else, but anyway, something trashed the moment. 

I think about all of the art that is created without the muse's knowledge and I think that's so beautiful.  People who think that they are ordinary, whether they are smiling without knowing they are being observed or sitting on a subway looking out the window, artists have the potential to take those real moments, seemingly dull moments, and make something beautiful from them. 

Then there are the muses who know.....if you break an artist's heart, you will hear about it, and they will thank you for what is probably their best work.

To mine, thank you.   You will never be as beautiful as you are through my eyes.