Austin Kleon

Don’t be afraid to disappear

a blackout poem that reads don't die simply disappear a while
a blackout from Show Your Work!

I didn’t catch the Emmys last night, but I was moved by this acceptance speech from Michaela Coel, creator of I May Destroy You: 

“Write the tale that scares you. That makes you feel uncertain. That isn’t comfortable. I dare you. In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible — for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success — don’t be afraid to disappear from it, from us, for a while and see what comes to you in the silence.”

(Silence is a space for something to happen. And it is unpredictable! It takes courage to disconnect, not just to get over FOMO, but to get over the fear of what you might discover about yourself when writing.)

For those who didn’t win anything or who weren’t even nominated, there’s Yeats’ “To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing”:

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honor bred, with one
Who were it proved he lies
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbors’ eyes;
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.

Back to the bliss station to make the next thing…

Sally Mann’s Hold Still

My October pick for our Read Like an Artist book club is Sally Mann’s Hold Still. To get the book in time to join our discussion next month, sign up now.

Here’s my intro:

Sally Mann is that rare master of both pictures and words, and her memoir shows off that mastery: the visual images are perfectly woven into the text to tell her story. (While best known for her photography, Mann holds a BA in literature and an MA in creative writing.) This book covers her long, interesting life and career, including her friendship with the painter Cy Twombly (there’s a surprising scene of him people-watching outside of a Walmart) and her struggle to make art while being a mother to three children. It’s not often that an artist can tell their own story in prose that sings, and that’s what makes this book so special to me.

This book was on my list of 5 great books about art and motherhood, and a portion of the book also reads as a cautionary tale about using your children in your art:

Not only was the distinction between the real children and the images difficult for people, but so also was the distinction between the images and their creator, whom some found immoral…

On this subject, the story has a sad afterword, which I will leave readers to discover for themselves.

To join our discussion, sign up for the club!

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