Prompted, of course, by the result of the United States’ election, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to make art that is of value. If I’m making politically-motivated art, aren’t I stuck between either preaching to the choir or trying to change the minds of people who will steadfastly refuse to listen to me? If I’m making entertainment, aren’t I contributing to the mass apathy that got us into this mess in the first place? Well, to a certain extent, yes. But there’s another part of me that knows that’s not all of it, that there is a way to find a middle ground, and that it’s worth trying to find.
I’ve been lucky enough to have found myself in a place right now where I feel incredibly safe and accepted, but the world is so much larger than whatever tiny part of it I’m standing on. As wonderful as it is to be here at this point in my life, it also means that if I am too lazy or apathetic or afraid to stand up and fight, I can get away with it. And that is not okay. I’d like to say I haven’t been getting away with it, that I’ve been fighting publicly for the things I believe in, but mostly I’ve been making vague statements about my supposed vales, and feeling totally swamped by all the things I don’t understand or know how to deal with. In the past I’ve often found myself romanticizing the notion of having some kind of clear-cut cause to fight for, as if historical movements weren’t just as full of difficulty and misunderstanding and grey areas as the ones we’re facing today. Everything is way cleaner in retrospect. I can look back on things people have done in the past and say I totally would have been a part of this or that had I been alive then — but that’s the thing, I’m alive now. I’m alive during this time, facing these issues, in this world as it is, and nobody is going to tell me what I’m supposed to do about it.
What I do know is that there is so much more I can be trying to learn, to educate myself about, so I can at least engage on some level with the world outside my front door. It is so so so so so easy to do nothing, to keep myself misinformed, disengaged, to pretend that everything is fine. The trick is to accept that there are no sides. It’s not “us” versus “them” because it’s way more complicated than that, and it doesn’t help anyone to turn your so-called enemies into monsters. They’re human beings just like me and we’re all just trying to figure it out. I have to remember that as difficult as it may be it is not in my best interests to close myself off to the people who will challenge me and my beliefs. It’s hard, but I’m trying.
As for the role of art in all of this, well, I’m still working on that, but I think I’m getting closer. I had the privilege of being able to volunteer with Bread and Puppet Theatre and be a part of their performance of Faust 3 for the past few days, and it was an awesome experience. It was like nothing I’ve ever done before and, things being as they are, it felt exceptionally relevant. Although their theatre is very activist/political, it’s rooted in a place of hope and belief in the redemptive power of art — cheap art, specifically, the kind that is taken off its pedestal and given back to the people.
Of course I don’t know whether or not that’s the answer, and I don’t know if that specifically is the kind of art I want to make, but I know for sure that trying anything is better than sitting here twiddling my thumbs and hoping that everything will turn out alright. I believe in rational faith: the balance between critical thinking and hope. I believe in community and love and trying your best to connect with everyone you come in contact with, even the people who disagree with you. I believe in good friends and good food and not taking everything so seriously all the time, but also knowing that sometimes things are incredibly serious, and that it’s important to make that distinction. I believe that deep down, as shitty as the world may be, people are good.
To quote WH Auden (and you can substitute poetry for whatever art you like):
“For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives / In the valley of its making where executives / Would never want to tamper, flows on south / From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs, / Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives, / A way of happening, a mouth.”Art can remind us of what we’re fighting against and what we’re fighting for. It can take us out of our isolation, our apathy, and open us up to the people around us. Art doesn’t make things happen, but it brings us to the places where they can. And now as much as ever, we need it.
