Toronto is near the solar eclipse line that happened yesterday. On a day that was already cloudy, the clouds got even thicker just before the main event.
Yet when the sky went dark and the air got cold, you could see that you don’t have to be staring at the sun and the moon in order to take in the awe of the moment.
Later that evening I watched some clips with my friend who is a painter over text and it occurred to me that the spectacular appeal of the eclipse from a visual perspective is the flaming effect on the edges just before the moon overtakes the sun.
In that moment, we are able to reflect on the reality that the sun is this massive ball of fire. On a hot day in July we feel that fire, but on a cold and cloudy day in April that happens once every so-many-years, we can see that fire.
There is a scientific look at how our art is created: the storyline maps that you can teach students in writing school. The ABABCB songwriting format that so much pop music is built out of.
Yet deep inside each work of art, there is something that we can’t put our finger on.
It’s the human randomness, the wonkyness, the awkwardness which is derived from nature itself.
When you feel like your work is not up to standard of the industry, just remember that the industry doesn’t need more of the same work over and over again.
It needs you, your original, natural soul, sticking your messy ink-covered fingerprint over everything you’ve read and heard before.