When people hear Death of an Artist, they assume it’s about an ending. A farewell. A closing chapter. It’s not. It’s about transition. About shedding what no longer serves me and making space for what comes next.
So, what’s actually dying? Man, that is a big question. It is dynamic and it is heavy. Here is an example, I have always been comfortable in my own skin, but I recognize my limitations. Stepping into the world has never been a problem, but it hasn’t always been comfortable.
I dress in bright colours. I wear suits, pocket squares, ties, if you have seen me in public at a business event you may have noticed my shoes. I am not hidden, I am actually out there dressed in orange, red, green, or pink, but I am not a camera-ready personality. Being an artist does require you to be in front of a camera. Now, I do not hate myself, but I do not like the way I look. I have learned to live with who I am, but it does take effort to be on camera.
Death is a loaded word. We fear it. Most of us have big barriers that hold us back. As a writer and an artist, DEATH is a powerful word, and I use it intentionally. I hate the way I look on camera, but I am not going to let that deep feeling of angst and disregard for my appearance hold me back.
We all have things we hold onto for too long. Ideas about who we are. Labels we’ve accepted. Structures that feel safe but limit growth. At some point, we have to ask: What needs to go so something better can take its place?
That’s what Death of an Artist is really about. Not an ending. A redefinition. A beginning.
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