When my artist friends complained of not being able to get themselves to do their art, I was stymied. If they loved it so much, why didn't they just do it, I wondered? It didn't make sense to me.
What would happen if we completely reimaged how we viewed ourselves? And our shadows? And the world around us? Let's say we brought to light all of our flaws, our other self, the part of us we only see in our dreams.
The works which I find most deeply satisfying to create are the ones which feel like gifts that I have received through some sort of bizarre or miraculous circumstance.
When I went to the Met as a Columbia undergraduate, I skirted around the fee since the college had bought membership for its students. As an art lover, I am now happy to pay for my visits -- I would hate for the Met to crumble like the beloved New York City Opera -- but I'm not sure everyone is.