Notre Dame on fire
The night Notre Dame was in flames, I wrote something on my Instagram. I had wanted to articulate more on it the days after, here in the blog, but I got sick with high temps and I became a zombie…
Here is what I wrote on my feed that night:
I was about to go to bed...And I heard about Notre Dame in Paris. Burning.
Tears sprang in my eyes.
Mind you...I know there are people suffering and hurting and that die every day. I know this is just an object.
But it isn't.
It's the expression of something "more" that I think we all crave.
Seeing this picture here broke my heart.
All of that beauty and divine inspiration.
I have been lucky to be admiring this view from below, in what feels like a lifetime ago. Before the panic. Before agoraphobia.
And I think that anything that can inspire such wonder and awe and heart expansion deserves to be mourned.
I was speaking about perspective with a friend earlier. Perspective in my own life. Perspective in how I decide to value myself.
Seeing this image here...
God, we are so fragile. Our lives are so fragile. Our art is so fragile. Something so majestic and admired can be destroyed in a few hours. Lost. Gone.
Maybe this event touches me so much because I have been admiring this kind of art since when I was a child. These are the metaphorical shoulders that I stand upon. These great works of art that seem to defy the passing of time. .
I am not going to care about all the futile stuff I have been worrying about.
I am not going to spend my hours thinking about algorithms and visibility and brading.
I am not going to waste another minute, another breath in any of that.
Because if everything has to turn into dust and smoke - which will eventually happen, for everything and everyone - I want to know I have created with the utmost reverence, inspiration and intention.
I want my sign into this world to be something more than the fleeting "success". The ego boost.
I want to be here perfecting my craft, my art, and my soul, to offer a spark of what art always brought me. I want my work to be the voice for something higher, something that we all recognize as "home".
I will take kissing someone's heart, softly touching their soul for a second - I will take it a million times over being "liked".
And I am posting this here as a reminder to my future self, for when I will lose my path again.
I have spent the past couple of months being worried and frustratred, but not really willing to share it openly. Just that day I had finally opened up with a friend.
I have been stressing about social media. About visibility.
The fact that my visibility and likes have gone so down had me in an uncomfortable place.
What am I doing wrong? Why do people not seem to care much about what I do?
What should I do to make them see me?
This kind of reasoning never brings me to good places, and I am totally aware of it.
On the other side, not only I financially rely on socials to sell, but I also have quite the self esteem issues - working on them, getting better, but it’s still a soft spot for me.
I tried to look at all the people promising you to teach you the best way to increase engagement, and I felt miserable.
I don’t feel like “branding”. Studying the appearence of my feed. Being consistent. Planning.
I am not a brand, I am a person, an artist, and I need my online presence to reflect that. I need the spontaneity. The authenticity.
All of this thinking and stressing didn’t help my creative process - OF COURSE - so on top of it all I also felt miserable because I missed my safe space.
When I saw Notre Dame burning…
In a way it opened my eyes.
It connected to something I was talking about with my friend just a few hours before, in some way.
The point is…why do I create?
I do it for the likes, the fleeting sense of “fame”? For feeling worthy and seen?
I do it because I need it. Because nothing else makes me feel as whole.
I do it because I crave to create beauty.
To see Notre Dame burning…well, it showed me in quite a strong way how everything is really fleeting.
Even such a majestic building, awe inspiring, centuries old.
If brought my focus back on the present and on what matters.
In 10 years the likes I get today won’t give me pleasure or meaning.
But maybe in 10 years I will remember the joy someone shared with me about something I made for them, and that will fill my heart.
In 10 years, if my hands will still be busy creating, then I know I will be happy.
How much more can I ask for, really?
(And yes, despite the killer flu, my creativity is back)