I don’t normally “escape” into my stories or music. I don’t “pour my feelings” about some life event into them. When bad things happen to me, I don’t “use it.”
I am not, in any way, saying this is a good thing.
It’s just odd.
I have one adult student who totally uses piano to balance her life, to vent her frustrations and pain. Every time something bad happens, she uses it.
I really admire that.
In the classical music world, there are various… ethics of performing, I guess you’d say. One school of thought (not one I abide by), for example, focuses on not distracting from the music. The performer is showcasing the music, and wants to stay out of the way, not draw attention to himself, not move and sway or what have you.
The musician is really only a channel for the music.
I don’t agree with that school of thought, but I wonder if some of that has seeped into me. When I write or play, I set the rest of the world out of reach. I don’t draw on it. I try to leave it behind so I can focus on the art at hand.
The story and the music are not about me; it’s about them. I usually aim to get out of the way.
The problem with that is if I’m “not in the way,” then I don’t have a voice.
Of course, we have to draw on our experiences and our feelings to write what they feel like, but I think I do most of this subconsciously. I do see trends in my books, but again, these happen subconsciously.
This week, though, I began questioning this. Why shouldn’t I take the feelings I’m feeling now and find a way to pour them into my stories? Why shouldn’t I look forward to writing as an escape from this world? Why shouldn’t I desire and crave to escape this world? Why shouldn’t I try and find comfort in my fictional realm?
Is art a balance between passion and craft, or a struggle?
I’m just wondering. What do you think?