August 24, 2025
Have you ever met anyone who was condescending toward creative types and artists? And by artists I’m not talking about Matisse or Beyoncé, but that weirdo nephew who is just wasting his time playing guitar in the basement; or the neighbor’s 8-year old daughter who just can’t sit still or keep her head out of the clouds while she’s dancing around all day. Not only is it more common than we think, but I don’t hear any side jabs being tossed around about Trevor making the varsity football team or Kendra winning the cheerleading competition.
Game On
I hold absolutely nothing against athletics (or Trevor, or Kendra) and in fact I celebrate any opportunity that a youngster might have to engage in physical activity, even pickleball. But our culture does not collectively celebrate the arts anywhere near as much as sports– just look at the disparity of funding between the two (across the board); or the crowd’s reaction to Trevor’s touchdown pass compared to the marching band’s halftime performance. I get it, it’s more entertaining to watch people slam into each other or form a human pyramid than it is to sit through a piano recital or languish our way through an art exhibit.
These observations are not wholly undeniable and are relative to everyone’s personal experience; but in recent history, the vast majority of Americans in particular, have decided that creating art is in fact a waste of time when compared to other, more “practical” endeavors. Perhaps it’s because there are no winners or losers in the creative realm, no real conflict.
There are other reasons behind this, mostly financial, but what we’re left with is a push toward artistic nihilism, where being creative is to be shut in the dark, labeled as just selfish play. I refuse to accept any part of those claims and I would further posit that it is actually more selfish to hoard our own creativity and deprive anyone else from experiencing it, even the people who think of us as nerdy, weird or just self-absorbed.
Sadly, the most self-indulgent thing that appears to actually be taking place is the act of spending 3, 4 or 5, hell 10 hours per day on our phones. And people barely even talk on them anymore, so at this point it feels silly referring to this object as a “phone” anymore, even if we place the word “smart” in front of it. Forget about sports, our attention is being stolen from us in the form of scrolling, clicking, gaming, texting, social media, porn, headlines, highlight reels or anywhere else we get to feel digitally “connected”- when instead we could be making something.
Gardening, woodworking, singing, playing music, cooking, drawing, dancing; these all escape our time and our attention, only to be replaced with apps and platforms that not only distort our sense of purpose, but make us feel bad about doing anything else, even something as simple as writing a short story or a song. Plus, the game is on, can you scooch over?
The Music Never Stopped
Cover bands seem to be all the rage these days. When I was a musician in my twenties, I prided myself on the fact that I played ‘farm-to-table’ music, almost exclusively with, and for the people who wrote it; only to spend my late 30’s into my early 40’s covering almost exclusively the music from one singular, pre-existing rock group, albeit a kickass one. I do find it interesting that The Grateful Dead themselves covered literally hundreds of tunes written by other people who were either actually dead, or on another stage somewhere.
Even when it comes to original music, Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir wrote very few of their own lyrics and the same goes for Elton John, Frank Sinatra, Elvis, among many others; and who knows where they would have ended up had they been too proud, unmotivated or simply lacked the opportunity to collaborate with such talented poets?
My guess is that all of them would have continued to create something that was potentially less popular by mainstream standards, but just as fulfilling to the artists themselves. I’m certainly one of many who are grateful that those connections were made and are thus enthusiastically celebrated, even decades later.
When we are truly devoted to our craft, when it is part of who we are, then the restrictions become imaginary and we leave our windows and our hearts open, so that we can receive natural wisdom and inspiration from the universe and the people who seem to know their way around it. As artists, hell, as humans, it is vital that we make time for personal creativity and exploration, to be curious and to connect with people outside of the cybernated vortex that circumvents humanity.
The opportunity to capture lightning when it strikes is quite fleeting and grows ever seldom with time. If we choose to create, then we want to be on our toes, ready to grasp upon that one idea that pulls us away from these less fulfilling habits we may possess. Beyond that we have to be inspired, but so many of us have grown far too exhausted or too busy to amuse ourselves with such fruitless folly.
Music, dance and art are all things that most children or older adults are encouraged to engage in and most of them jump right into the creative space that is laid out before them. In western culture this typically takes place in some type of educational institution or in a long-term care facility, where kids or the elderly can express themselves and discover (or rediscover) who they are, creatively.
But when we’re stuck in the middle ages of being a “normally” functioning adult, only a small percentage of us continue to explore our imaginations with passion and curiosity; that is, unless we have made it part of our profession– relatively speaking, there aren’t many and it’s incredibly challenging to pull it off (see All that Glitters).
Grounded
This freedom of personal expression dissipates once the pressures and expectations of what it means to be a grownup are heaped upon us (don’t worry, there’s still sports…to watch). There are many cultures that regularly participate in song, dance and other artistic expression during spiritual ceremonies and community gatherings. They’re typically the ones who remain the most deeply connected to this earth and to each other; and they would be perplexed at the idea of accepting money for something they have grown to feel is as natural as breathing.
The mistake a lot of us make is with our ego: we tell ourselves that our personal identity is evolving and of the all-consuming list of commitments we’ve signed up for, making art or dancing around or even cooking, is not one to which we owe anything, nor does it fulfill any of our current “needs”– when someone cynically told us to “grow up”, it appears as though we have listened, pretending that our opposable thumbs have evolved, not to grip a hammer, a bassoon, a microphone or a spatula, but to simply swipe.
Aside from being helplessly distracted by technology, perhaps we had once hit a peak in our creative past (either in our twenties or even early adolescence) and we know that that high period will never be replicated; so we set off to create new highs in the neo-traditional style: by making more money and being promoted. A true artist rarely creates with the superficial intention of “peaking”. And while there may be an underlying desire to repeat certain types of successes (including making money), the genesis of a new idea, bringing it forth and making it real, is where the magic truly dwells.
Nowadays, however, we seem to be letting the streaming services, ads, reels and feeds do the thinking for us, pulling our own intuition completely out of frame and nudging our attention toward the algorithmic direction that’s trending on Spotify. We quietly allow the same process to unfold when it comes to eating, watching TV, shopping and especially within our social experiences.
Who is actually driving this bus, John Madden or John Doe? I’d prefer it be John Wayne– we might be on a horseback instead of a bus, but he’d get us there in one piece because he wouldn’t be distracted by a smartphone; he wound’t even know what the fuck a smartphone is, pilgrim. Or John Candy.
There are so many platforms today that enable us to showcase our talents, our artistry, and I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter who’s music we are covering or whose art we are emulating, so long as we really dig it and that we’re willing to believe in what we’re doing. And the more we enjoy doing it, the better it will be. This is how we evolve, when art finds us and, by extension, others: when we go with our gut and ignite the spark.
People’s artistic instincts are actually pretty sophisticated in that music, dance, painting and anything else we may create, has the ability to illuminate some of the most authentic pieces of who we are. No matter what “level” we see ourselves at, to follow that light is the best thing we can do for ourselves and for the souls of the past, present and future.
To be vulnerable and open with anything we’re making is a leap of faith, but who cares if some people don’t like it? Those aren’t the ones who were meant to be moved by our light today. That light is for others to discover and as long as we keep it shining, they’ll find it. And please, yes, go play pickleball on Thursdays.