Resonance

If pressed to do so, I would call myself a writer. However, over the last year, I’ve spent almost as much time working in a clothes shop as I have writing. I live with a poet and comedian who also happens to work for the local council. I have friends who are artists and who work in cafes and campsites. I know musicians who work in pubs. Outwardly, you might call me a retail assistant, my friends council workers, baristas, bartenders. But I would bet the vast majority of them would call themselves poets, comedians, artists – with varying degrees of reluctance.

Photo by Leoni Fretwell (click for website link)

I start with this because, too often, artists (and for the purposes of this piece I mean writing, visual art, filmmaking, music, dance, comedy and more) are not called that until they meet with some degree of success – and success is often defined by how widely shared and received their work is.

I want to push back against that a little bit, and remind anyone reading this who is pursuing some kind of artistic form or pursuit – even if it’s just myself – that while it’s nice to have your work shared widely (and perhaps even get paid for it) that this is not what defines you as an artist, or even what makes you an artist.

Sharing is key; at some stage, even if it is just to one trusted person, you should share what you create. But what is crucial is the act of sharing itself, not how widely shared your work is.

Think of when a scene in a film, a line of poetry, a snippet of music, a single painting resonated with you emotionally, or embodied a sentiment you had previously felt unable to express. In that moment it does not matter who the creator of those pieces of art are. The point is, regardless of who has done it, it has impacted you. It has shaped how you see the world. That is what art can do.

And, as artists, that is what we can do. So it does not matter whether you are performing to a room of five people, or three people read your essay on your clunky Wix Free Plan website. Ultimately those moments of small-scale resonance are still taking place. What you create is still having an impact.

I am not arguing that people should avoid sharing their work more widely, or should not strive to reach and impact a wider audience. They should, if they feel that is what they want. I certainly wouldn’t say no to a collection of my short stories on one of those big tables in Waterstones. But high levels of competition, societal and industry based biases, circumstances and sheer luck also play an enormous role in whether artistic work reaches a wider audience. In light of this, I don’t think that the power of small-scale impacts gets mentioned enough, or is valued enough.

So I try to remind myself of it, to share my work and be pleased when – even if it is just one person – somebody says that they really enjoyed it, or that it made them think, or see the world in a slightly different way. That is an immensely powerful thing to do and so – whatever you might be creating, and whatever you might be doing during work hours – you are an artist, and if you are sharing it, then your work is impacting people. Don’t lose sight of that.