Dear R. Abbi,
I saw you on Between the Lines with Barry Kibrick and found you very interesting.
I want to do something for the greater good, can you help me find my way?
To be honest, I'm not even sure what that means — but I do know that I want to be able to help others in a meaningful way.
I'm an artist and although some people like my work and are sometimes moved, I'm not sure that qualifies as a worthwhile legacy for my life here on earth.
Where do I begin?
Sincerely,
Searching.
Dear Searching,
Thank you for your e-mail.
To quote Maria from The Sound of Music, “Let’s start from the very beginning. That’s a very good place to start.”
I think you should begin right where you are.
But it’s an uncomfortable place to be, isn’t it?
Would that you had a lofty goal . . . how much easier that would be!
For example, if you knew that by 2010 you wanted to have your art in five prominent galleries with proceeds from the sales raising $500,000 for AIDS awareness . . . well, then you would have a compass bearing, an orientation, and a specific goal to work toward.
However, you don’t have your direction yet and that’s what is uncomfortable.
So, another way answer to your question is that you should start by being uncomfortable.
I wish I could be the guy to give you all the answers. But, as you may have guessed, you are the only one who has the answers. Rest assured, it’s completely appropriate that you don’t know them yet.
After all, you’re just beginning to form the questions!
The following is a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke:
Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.I suggest the following prescriptive exercise, if you’d like to work on it. Try writing out the words of the above poem once in the morning and once in the evening every day for the next week. (And if you want, check back in and tell me how it goes.)
Of course, should you find a path that works better for you — like making a sculptural interpretation, dancing it out, or painting it — that works too . . .
Be the artist that you are called to be.
With love,
R. Abbi.
