This post was completely rewritten on 5/8/09.
I subscribe to the belief that bad art is more tragically beautiful than good art because it documents human failure. I could even go as far to say that an elegant suicide is the ultimate work of art. Then again, there was nothing elegant about wiping up the pool of blood that my best friend’s body was submerged in after he decided to suck on a cold metal pistol. It seems more people can relate to a broken and empty heart, rather than a heart that is bursting full of happiness and love. It’s a sad realization, but one that we are all too familiar with. Afterall, more of us can relate to failure rather than success. So it’s really no shocker that a person can be labeled a "starving artist" all their life and never sell more than a handful of paintings, but once they die, their artwork magically becomes priceless! It is one of the cruel twists to life. Nobody cared about him while he was here, but now that he’s dead and gone, they can’t stop talking about him! It’s the legacy he left behind that fascinates them. They want to collect all his pieces and learn all about his life. A life they didn’t give a shit about, nor knew even existed, until his tombstone was set into place. The real irony, the once "starving artist" will never get to reap the rewards of his success and bask in the limelight. His new found fame and measure of greatness will go unnoticed by him. That is not beautiful. That is plain tragic.
It’s easy for me to feel genuine compassion for someone who is experiencing a failure, but I find that I must force myself to be happy for someone that succeeds. I can feel someone else’s personal pain, because I can relate to that dark emotion. But I’m unable to share in their joy, because happiness is sometimes foreign to me. It’s not that I’m a miserable person and because misery loves company I want them to be miserable also. It’s just that I’m a bit jealous and maybe even a little envious? I’m a competitive freak so if someone reaches a higher level of success before me, I think part of me resents them for reaching that milestone. Or rather, I resent myself for not rising faster.
While the past helps predict the future, and today helps mold what tomorrow will bring, in no way is it a guarantee that yesterday’s failure will or won’t repeat itself in the days to come. Life is composed of a mixture of failures and successes. The failures are small, but many. Tiny little life lessons that help us grow and learn. They give us hope that because we were able to weather the bad times, that good times are just around the corner. That we will eventually be successful.
No one wants to be stamped with the word rejection across their chest anymore than they want to have the letter L branded to their forehead. Because when you are rejected, you feel like a loser. And we all know a losing attitude will never help you succeed in life. As cliché as it sounds, to be a winner you have to think like one. You have to believe in yourself, even if no one else does. Of course that’s easier said than done, I’m not even going to lie. Why do you think "starving artists" exist? Because they keep picking up that paintbrush, despite the fact that not a single painting may ever see the inside of an art gallery. Just like I will keep picking up that pen, even if my words never make it onto a publisher's desk. You do it because you love it and you believe in yourself, even if no one else does. (And if this post is a reflection of my writing talent, I have much work to do!)
When I was 17 and applying to colleges, I hung up every rejection letter I received around my bed. Most people didn’t understand it. They thought it was a form of self-torture. But what they saw as a reminder of failure, I saw as a motivator for success. In the end, it brought me great pleasure to prove them wrong. And now as I prepare to start sending my writing off to be critiqued and possibly published, I will take every "no, you’re not good enough" letter I receive and post them on every wall in my house. Just like a decade ago, I will document my human failure and use it to inspire me to do better, to prove the naysayers wrong.
It will be beautiful.
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