Yesterday, someone told me they lost a friend that committed suicide. She was a painter, wrote poetry and sang beautifully I am told. Even though that person might not know how much I, a stranger, to her and her friend, got touched by her story, I decided to devote this blog to her.
Suicide among artists and people who feel different and can't find their way in this world touches me beyond words. I have thought of giving up so often in my life and had close ones really close to giving up too. It can be a harsh world to feel that we can't live as who we are in it. It can be hard to keep faith and hope as we don't understand why things work or don't work for us.
Part of my anger with God stemmed from that. If that energy was a loving one, how could it not do everything to ensure I would be happy when I did all I could to shine through. On the other side of that anger I don't have any answers. I try to keep faith because that's the only way I know I can stay alive. I believe as a necessity more then real faith probably. But I am still mending.
I watched America's got talent this morning, as even though the glitter of the show gets on my nerves, it allows people to come out of their shells and show who they are in front of others. One thing that got to me was how much performers will hang on every words that the judges are saying. If they say nice things then they believe they have a shot at life and being who they are. If the judges don't like it, they deflate and their being deflates with them.
I have been on that side of the fence, doing piano competitions and ensembles, singing in front of crowds. The need for love and approval is a very human thing we have and we make the mistake to thing only a few people hold our lives in their hands. But how can we do different in a world that celebrates the rich and famous but not the unknown ones. If you are unknown you have a shot now, which is an amazing progress, but it is done through competitions of many kind that decides who is better then who. We still can't be just who we are, we need to compete to have a right to exist and live off of our art as artists.
We are also expecting artists to have tough skins. Be tough and take the pressure. If you have nerves, you don't have the career. But nerves have nothing to do with having talent. Having a tough skin for a performer is a nice thing to have but it's like asking a writer to be a publisher at the same time. Artists are expected to have the whole package deal and not being able to control nerves is seen as something bad. In Quebec, there was a singer who got very famous hiding behind a veil during his performances. Couldn't handle being seen.
Cindy Chang is an amazing example. This woman sings like an angel. Was afraid to sing in front of people her whole life. Can't tell her parents she sings. Yet she has this amazing voice coming from such a tiny body. (Please feel free to go to the singing part. I usually skip the glitter part myself.)
In her second audition, nerves got to her and she got rejected. I sincerely hope she won't give up, because 3 people can't see past nerves. This need for tough artists is completely against what an artist is. They need to stay sensitive and close to their emotions. Does it make them unpredictable? Yes. I don't know who decided that artists had to be robots who were always perfect and unwavering. Because it has been seen this way for so long, many think that it is how it should be. But really it is just trying to fit emotions in a very controlled space. Making them smaller then what they could become.
Even though choosing to be an artist now is a hard thing to do, I feel deep down, that many people can't live the way society wants us to anymore. Many have talents that don't want to shut up anymore. Many are willing to follow a path least taken and live with feeble means if it at least means they won't have to put who they are in a closet. Still it is a sad thing that it has to be done in such poverty.
Over history we celebrate artists, most of them lived poor and in sadness. I remember being shocked in literature classes when we would study the words of a poet, glance very fast at the hardship of his life and analyze a poem for 5 hours word by word dissecting his entrails right in the class room. I remember at 16 wanting to shout to the teacher: "He wanted to die, I am sure he never planned every tiny detail you see in that poem. They probably just happened because the emotions made it that way."
We look at dead artists like a romantic thing. He suffered so it was beautiful. But how much more beautiful would it have been if that person had had a chance to shine really? The role of artists is not just to show us the pain. But how often do they have the chance to show more?
We celebrate the unknown soldier, knowing that when praying for them we pray for all soldiers that were faceless, nameless, but were human beings and meaning something to someone. Today I want to pray for all the unknown artists who died in squalor or poverty, died because they couldn't find a way to be themselves in this world. May they rest in peace and find their way wherever they are now,
I also pray for all the living artists that are struggling and afraid that nothing will ever happen to them. Those who gave up so many years ago, who put their art in their drawers thinking it wasn't good enough. My heart goes to you all.
I don't know the name of that girl who died two days ago. But I know, without knowing her that she probably also wanted love and happiness and a chance to share what she did. May you rest in peace. My heart sings to you.
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