It's really uncanny how our fears always manage to keep pace with and often leapfrog our accomplishments. Our fears are a little like the 6 local train that we see zooming past from the window of the 4 express. We should be well ahead of them, but somehow there they are.
I imagine this kind of thing may be especially tormenting given the contemporary moment. Sometimes I look around and realize that our culture abounds in beautifully art directed, carefully curated objects that don't have a lot of actual meaning. Most of it is there as backdrop or as a way to point towards something else. So, you pour yourself into something, thinking, "this won't be fake. Good or bad, it will be an honest expression of who I am." And then you notice a minor mistake and wonder if it really is.
What a wonderful essay, my dear, delightful daughter. Thank you!
It's really uncanny how our fears always manage to keep pace with and often leapfrog our accomplishments. Our fears are a little like the 6 local train that we see zooming past from the window of the 4 express. We should be well ahead of them, but somehow there they are.
I imagine this kind of thing may be especially tormenting given the contemporary moment. Sometimes I look around and realize that our culture abounds in beautifully art directed, carefully curated objects that don't have a lot of actual meaning. Most of it is there as backdrop or as a way to point towards something else. So, you pour yourself into something, thinking, "this won't be fake. Good or bad, it will be an honest expression of who I am." And then you notice a minor mistake and wonder if it really is.
I look forward to reading the book.
Yea! My copy of Portrait has the typo! (I love your substack.)