The other day, I shared a with a friend a poem I had written, as part of my ongoing campaign to reveal myself.  She read it, and liked it.  But what really struck me, as she was staying the night, is that she spoke repeatedly about it, referred back to memorable bits several times, and spoke about how it resonated with her. She shared several interpretations of it, which would not necessarily be mine, but that didn’t bother me at all.  Because….

1) I created something, 2) I let it go, 3) I shared it with someone, 4) that someone consumed it, and 5) she saw herself in it, and made it hers.



When asked in therapy, I said that one of my goals is: at least once, I would like to create a piece of art, something that I felt good enough to share, that someone else would appreciate.  The key in that equation is the recipient sees herself in the work–that’s what turns it from homework to art, from self-expression to art.  The consumer is able to personalize it in some way.

I have no idea what the “official” definition of art is, but that’s mine.  And fuck me if I didn’t just do it!!  🙂


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