Creating Hope
From one artist to another
I’ve been thinking about hope a lot lately.
I don’t remember the first time that I learned that the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness were taught. Of course many of us understand that fear is a tool for division used as a weapon by politicians and the elite who need civilians to be too afraid to overthrow them.
However, when I would go from mental health analysis to mental health analysis describing how I felt, the specialist would very often summarize it back to me with two words: “hopelessness & helplessness”. They were spoken matter of factly, like the period at the end of a sentence. A diagnosis of something going wrong, instead of the very logical and correct response to being aware and connected to our society and its workings.
But then one day maybe I saw a post on instagram, or maybe someone said something to me about hopelessness being something that was taught: a “tool of oppression”. The whole concept unveiled. If you feel like there’s no hope, if you feel like you can’t help it, then it’s a very natural response to fall into place. To do what needs to be done to continue to serve the power gained through greed and extortion.
I became then much more intentional about harboring hope. It doesn’t come easy. When I was younger, I had quiet an ideal perspective of life and the world, and there was an entire universe between what I thought the world was and how it actually was. The constant disappointment of reality was the perfect heartbreaking fuel for that feeling of hopelessness that came so easily. Depression and nihilism runs in my family, I would even argue it’s part of my French culture to focus on how shit and gloom life can truly be. Where I once had curiosity and wonder that would burst out of me at the drop of a hat, I now had disdain and dread. I had to —have to— be intentional, be mindful, be aware and conscious of what hope is, how it builds, how we create it, how we protect it — lest it be stolen from me by a continuously successful system that means to snuff it out.
Over and over again, I saw how art is an essential tool. Or rather, how the language of art is an essential path to hope and power. Creating together, whether physical projects which you can show a tangible result for, or simply ideas on how to work together, immediately are ointments to any problem at hand. And while I insist that all of us are artists in our own rite, I have always leaned into that art as coping mechanism. Even the way I handled my pessimism was romanticized and splattered with paint, cinema, and song. Art and connection, to me, are the answer to everything. I understand not everyone sees things like that and because of that gap, I am thus labeled “Artist” by trade and societal role. That role comes with a responsibility.
If art and connection are my balms to hopelessness and helplessness, than do I not naturally owe it to society —as an Artist— to lean into art, connection, hope, and community power? To be part of the circle of healing, away from the bricks of victimization and oppression that have been used as a base for an ill-suited society.
I have thus honed in the intention of my art. I look directly at the horrors of humanity and look back up and say “let’s create anyway”. I see the tale of Sisyphus and his boulder reflected in my desire for coherence and solidarity in an inherently chaotic and self-centered society, and paint swirls on the boulder while listening to music of people who believe in hope and truth. It is not (just) because of strength of character, though I am grateful to have whatever courage I can muster to do so; mainly, it is due to my admiration for people who have —amid living in war, poverty, starvation, genocide, torture, violence of all kinds— still desire to be alive, still hope, still have faith in others, still want to love, still want to create. It is my utter respect and admiration for the people who treat life with so much respect regardless of having seen the worst of the worst. Humans destroy me, humans rebuild me; I am nothing, if not a community effort.
The community I am a part of and am constantly building, is an intentional one that puts their money and energy where their mouth is. Who doesn’t just talk the talk, but thinks the thought and walks the walk. We follow each other in truth and hope. I cannot give into a pit of despair and be surprised when that pit gives me despair back. I must give to the one that wants to face a common reality. One where are together in this, not just saying we are but studying and breaking open from a state of confident hope and natural generosity.
We hear each other, through the distance. Many of us too far apart, many of us lonely, isolated, sick, or dying. But still here, fighting with all the energy we can muster to create a kinder world, where life, autonomy, and community is respected and held dear on a communal level. I must be prepared to face disdain and disillusionment, deep despair and disappointment, resistance from personal and intimate fronts. But all my life I have been uncomfortable, and going through the cognitive dissonance of being gaslit into thinking I’m crazy when I point to what ails us all. I know how to fall now. I understand trust is a constant thing that sometimes feels like slippery soap in my hands. I know that it is the movement of getting back up to meet community that makes life purposeful.
I have to expect to be misunderstood, and to not always understand others. I have to expect to mess up, and accidentally hurt despite my best efforts. I learn and do better. Trust anyway. Lean into the community of people who go beyond capitalism, who are not afraid to face the shared reality of science, solidarity, and radical hope. To see how scary everything truly is, and smile regardless. My armor and antidote for a harsh world is art.
And so with that, my gratitude to those of you investing into it, in any way. Truly, it is fuel for hope and motivation to create. You too, are part of the circle or art and connection that I devote myself to.
With that, I leave you with my latest completed project — “The Snail Way” — a book I wrote for children ages 7 to 100+.
It’s available on Amazon so you can look for it there directly, it’s also out in Spanish as “El Camino Del Caracol”. Essentially, I wrote it to represent different parts of myself and without intentionally meaning to I wrote a book for neurodivergent and highly sensitive children (and adults). Or also, a cute book for people who love snails. (I love snails.) I based the book on real life snails because the whole point of my art will always be to invite you to feel wonder for the things around us, instead of having to escape from reality —we can embrace it. I want to collect facts about humans, animals, plants, the world around us, outside of us and inside of us to add wonder, joy, and connection to those open to it.
This little book is another mini testament to that, and I hope you get a chance to see it and tell me what you think. I’m really proud of this one.
xoMox
PS:
Some inspiring art and resources:
Art:
This group made music underwater and it is so hauntingly beautiful.
Aleah Black’s art continuously moves me, gives me hope and a direction to go.
Black Sea Dahu’s music speaks directly to my heart and their music is perfect for gray winter mornings where you need to romanticize feeling misunderstood.
Resources: