A Love Letter To All Struggling Artists


Dear Artist, I compel you to live life with a heart that exposes itself indefinitely to the eyes of strangers. May you live not with the idea that time opposes destiny, making the ticking clock a grim reaper in chaotic pursuit of your fortune, but may you accept time as an absolute, where every moment you encounter is enough, where every moment is the all, the expanding boundless flash, the burn and the glow, the supernova that swells within you when you grab the horns of experience. Turn these flashes into fuel, let every single moment of your life nourish you – even the ones you don’t understand, for those moments of confusion and question have potential to be the most nutritious of them all.

You are an artist. You became an artist when your heart became aware of its power, its part, and its purpose.  May your poetry be the flesh of your dreams, may you find the meaning of life within the words you speak, and may you live so passionately, so avidly, that you are forced to kill yourself over and over again. May you die in order to live, in order to release, in order to learn again.

Your adventure comes in the form of a metaphysical one, a transformation within the realm of possibility, for the true artist does not live by physical means – he lives wedged between the higher and subordinate worlds, the horizon and the sky, the grey area we so often stop ourselves from entering due to apprehension and a need to hold on to comfort so tightly that it might as well turn to dust within our hands.

May you have the courage to become the path, rather than to take it. Surface artists and appeasers are cursed in a world of defense. They refuse to throw themselves to the rhythm of their hearts; they run from the acceptance of all extremes – light and shade, existence and demise, virtue and sin, yours and mine. By accepting all of these limits, the start and the finish, you dissolve them into the full spectrum. No longer do you focus on one side, you perceive indefinitely, completely. You leap towards the progression of the universe, the absolute, the hymn of life.

You, as an artist, have the ability to open up the hearts of others. Never forget that. The artist has the courage to go against the multitude of conformity, the artist has the courage to stand alone and influence hearts until its own heart is kissed and cradled by the very gift of the universe. May you never grow blind of your purpose, for being blind is worse than death. May you constantly perceive the beauty of life with your eyes, may you constantly perceive the miraculous that makes up each and every day, for the time of the artist is now. Go forth.


Read more of Bianca Sparacino’s writing in her new book Seeds Planted in Concrete here.