“When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. He sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamppost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “It is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it.
When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting *interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest *academical* tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on.
But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it.
And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care. ”― Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit
What if the next blog post you write is your last? What if, for whatever reason, you never get a chance to punch those damn keys, to share your thoughts and ideas with the world?
What would you choose to write about?
What sets your soul on fire? What is that one story, one idea, one dream that almost comes to live whenever you close your eyes?
What makes you feel alive?
What makes you fall in love with yourself whenever you think about it? What are the words that we must, absolutely must read from you?
Write about that. Write about it without fear of failure, of criticism, of being ignored or laughed at. Write about it, because only you can. Write about it as if you were trying to show us the incredible beauty that resides inside your soul.
I assure you, we will love you for it.
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