I wish people stopped comparing artworks. Art is not, in any way, made to be compared. There is no competition, there is no good or bad (to some extent of course). But comparing art would be like comparing feelings. ‘Oh, I feel sadder than you’ or ‘I bet you can’t carry more guilt than I do’, ‘Look how much happier I am than you’. We don’t do that. And if an artwork is made out of feelings, why would we compare it to a work of expression made by another sentient soul?
I write songs. A lot of songs. I don’t care if a song is good or bad, in the eyes of a stranger. I care about the story of the song, the feelings that I translate into words and melodies. My task is completed when I fully poured my heart out, when there are no words left to say, when every emotion is released, set free and captured in the song. This song is a little story, a little autobiographic world in itself. Why on earth would I compare this song to that of another? Isn’t it way more important to see art as an expression of the soul?
This consumer society is and will always be about money, status and power. This modern world took art, like music, out of its original context and threw it into the burning fire of the public. Art is ‘good’ when it creates and generates a lot of money. The ‘good’ art, the ‘good’ music, reaches the charts, goes viral and is utilised until people don’t care anymore. It’s not about the ‘art’ in this sense, not about self-expression, but more about public satisfaction. What gets the most attention? What does it take for a song to get stuck inside someone’s head? I know, it ain’t that black and white, but sometimes, it feels that way. Songs are getting simpler, catchier but emptier than ever. The superficial is winning again. Hurray…
Sometimes, after a performance, people ask me if I write the songs with my audience in mind. I don’t, I never do and I never will. I once tried, tried to write a song that I was sure of everyone would like. It was catchy, it felt familiar (cause that’s the key to a ‘good’ modern pop song), but the song had no emotion. The words were hallow, shallow and empty. I was sure people could sing along with the simple lyrics and catchy melody, but was that really what I wanted? For the audience to like my songs that much? Even if that meant I’d lose a little part of myself and my authenticity? I think not, well actually, I’m sure this was not what I wanted. I wanted to make art that was real, pure, straight from the heart. That would get people think, that’d get under their skin. I wanted to touch them in a way, only music can. Touch their heart, touch their ears. I wanted them to remember parts of themselves they didn’t even think still existed. I wanted them to question every part of their existence and I wanted them to be aware and feel grateful for every little thing they take for granted. I wanted to draw them in, let them step outside of reality and let them get lost with me in a different one. I didn’t want to make nice, catchy, popular songs, I wanted to share my deepest emotions, my most irrational fears, my stories about love, heartbreak and my journey to self-love. And if a song turned out to be kind of catchy, that was great, but it was not my first intention.
And that’s why I appreciate the artists, the dreamers, the writers that don’t care about the views, the likes, the shares or the money. At least, not as much as they care about making an artwork that is compiled out of raw emotions. Something that is a mechanism to cope, something real and pure. Real art has already so much value in itself. Creating is a way of life, of dealing with the ups and downs, the sadness and the madness. Art is questioning the familiar, it is the gateway to the deepest and most magical parts of life. It is the reason to wake up everyday. It challenges you to look at the world with rose-coloured glasses on, while lighting up the dark, grey sky.
Music is the reason I can still smile, after every painful thing I’ve been through. Because I need translation, I need expression, I need to get it all out of my head, of my chest. So my heart can be charged again, be filled up again, with people and moments. If I don’t make art, it will all stack up and bring me down. Life would drain all of my energy and build a hundred walls around me. Because there is so, so much. So much emotions, so much feelings and memories. If there’s no way to process, to accept and to find closure, there’s no way to survive. All these years and all these pictures. I need to organise, get it outside of my head, put it all on the table. That’s the only way I can manage.
Sometimes I get scared, because at times I don’t realise it’s all in the public. My whole diary, naked and opened, for the whole world to see. Who else does that? Who else feels comfortable with this? Only artists I suppose, but maybe because they’re not aware of it. They just share, without thinking about the consequences. There’s this intense need to spread the word, to challenge people and tell the world about the weight on our shoulders. I can’t keep it to myself, all of my stories, fantasies and thoughts, so I won’t. And I appreciate it so much when other people do the same. I don’t want to be ashamed of having a voice, of saying what’s on my mind, of getting it of my chest.
The social traffic is creating connections, but at the same time we feel more alone than ever. The distance between people was never that wide. That’s why I share my art, whether it is on this page, my social media, or during my performances. I want to fight the disconnection, the distance, the shallow and the fake. It’s time for real-ness, nudity (not in a literal sense) and connection. We are all human, although we all try to be something more than that. More powerful, stronger and less emotional. But, it’s okay to feel, to love, to hurt, to cry, to fail and to learn. Life’s hard, so why make it harder by pushing our essence away, which is experiencing life in every aspect?