Art is a test we always fail.

O for a Life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!  

                                                                              - John Keats

This is a sad story. It’s tragic. It’s about stories of love and death that will never be understood.

It’s about art galleries.

I can see you’re bored already. No, wait, I promise it won’t involve any painfully silent whitewashed corridors or musty smells or artistic concepts you don’t understand.

I study English literature, so I spend a lot of my time reading, looking at and thinking about art. Last time I was in London with my family, I fancied popping to see some Pre-Raphaelite paintings (sorry, I lied about the long words). There was just one problem. My Dad. He can’t stand art galleries. I watched as he moped around for a while, laughing at some paintings, staring dumbfounded at others, before stubbornly slumping into a corner, evidently waiting to leave. I am sure he is not the only one who, if they must go into one of those places, has this inevitable response. When I asked him why he didn't like art, his response was simple: I don’t understand it.

I’m sure all of us have experienced being dragged round these places on school trips when we were younger. The problem is, it has made us all think that art is a kind of test. When I see people walking round an art gallery, it’s less with an air of casual indifference, and more with a panicked determination to see, to know, to understand. What does it mean? What are they trying to say? I don’t know. I don’t understand. And art becomes a test we always fail. Many of us walk out of an art gallery feeling more stupid than when we walked in. And if this is true, art has failed.

I could write all day about the purpose of art. But one thing I believe about art is that it isn't a riddle that needs solving; there is no meaning to uncover or secret truth to detect. Anything we see in a work of art is brought by ourselves. When we look at a painting, we shouldn't strain to understand what the artist was trying to do, we should just pay attention to the way we feel. Enlightened, disgusted, sad, confused: this is all fine. Art is an experience, not a test. Don't be afraid of art, because art is only ever as good as its viewer, and if we cannot understand art, we cannot understand ourselves. 

We should write as we dream.

We should write as we dream; we should even try and write, we should all do it for ourselves, it’s very healthy, because it’s the only place where we never lie… we should try and write as our dreams teach us; shamelessly, fearlessly, and by facing what is inside very human being. 

- Hélène Cixous

When I was little, I wrote stories.

I made things up and wrote things down, and all my whims and fancies and thoughts and feelings flowed freely into my little notebook without a second thought for their reason or purpose. They were awful, but it didn't matter. When I was six it was simple: I wrote stories because I wanted to, and because I enjoyed writing them.

When I was seven, my school had ‘Show and Tell’ every Friday afternoon. My friends would bring in their dolls and their holiday photos, and I would bring my notebook and read out a story. If the other children lost interest, (or never had any in the first place,) I didn't care in the slightest. I read my story because I wanted to, and because I enjoyed reading it. It was simple like that.

When I was nine, my teacher asked me to write what I thought about bullying, so I made something up and wrote something down. I read it to my teacher, then to my class, then to my headmaster and then to the entire school. When I looked up and I saw all those faces staring back with something like approval, I realised that I wasn't just writing stories because I enjoyed them, but because I wanted others to enjoy them too. I learnt that stories made people listen, and think and feel. I learnt that stories have power.

Then, something changed.

I forgot how to write stories. Somewhere amongst the chaos of growing up, a consciousness gleaned that writing meant exposing yourself to the whole world. Were they really any good? I thought they were, but now they seem…trivial. Silly. People might not like my stories. People might not like me, and in short, I was afraid.

Teachers and parents told me that writing should follow certain rules. Writing to argue, persuade, advise. Writing to inform, explain, describe. Writing stories is no career. You should start thinking of your future, soon, now!

…After all, centuries of people have written better than me, so perhaps it’s better to read other people’s stories than to write my own.

When I was eighteen I went to university to study English literature. I read other people’s stories and I enjoyed them. They made me listen, and think and feel. But now when I write it is with rules and word counts and deadlines. Now when I write it’s not always because I want to, or because I enjoy it, but because someone else tells me to. Now when I write I write with the voice of my parents and teachers and lecturers. I write with a voice of panic and distraction. Now when I write, I can’t write me.

When I was twenty I found my old notebook and I read my stories. I enjoyed them, and they made me listen, and think and feel. I remembered that to write is to know yourself. So I wrote a story for the first time in nine years, just because I wanted to, and because I enjoyed writing it, and because I wanted to make people listen, and think and feel once more. So welcome to my stories and welcome to my blog. It has no purpose, but that is exactly why I wrote it.