Imagine a perfect day: being with those you love, in a place you love, under a sky you love, doing those things you love. Imagine a day from start to end when you are free to dance and sing without restraint.
Imagine another perfect day follows the first. A week. A month. A year of perfect days.
Along this never ending line I would sense a day as less, impaired. I would miss the grit of life, the ache of heart, the hurt of love. I would be less without my wish, my hope.
I watch a movie at home that moves me as much as when I first saw it at the cinema. I find it beautiful, emotionally engaging, texturally rich, and full with social and cultural commentary. Everything works for me: its themes, narrative, screenplay, cinematography, music, lighting, design, acting, and direction.
When it becomes clear that the movie fails to connect with my son I feel as if a great wall descends between us. The only known antidote to counter an experience of unwanted distance is love.
To create art, whatever its medium, the creative person must be loved, love, or yearn for love. Their love may be of a person, a place, or an idea. They may be loved by another, they may love themselves, or they may long to be with their love. The love the artist requires is strongly felt with a consistent commitment or wish of care and kindness. Without love, the need to make quickly fades.
When love of self or self-belief turns to arrogance, love leaves, and with it, all that inspires.