The creative impulse as an end in itself is one of the only roads to transcendence left to us. However, once the desire to create is infected by the need for affirmation and attention from the outside to validate the work, the purity of the original drive is corrupted and lost forever.
I fantasize about being someone who does glorious paintings in half-lit rooms that no one will ever see or writes singular and affecting songs on ancient guitars that no one will ever hear. And feeling sanctified within the silence. Then the whispers start, and I hear, "That would never be enough for you. Face it, you're doomed."
|Lid Emba live, excerpt from The Last Show, 2009.|
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