In the Absence of a Soundboard - Letter Two
A letter exchange with Farrah Berrou on the realities of being a solo creator in the digital age
This is part 2 in a 6-part correspondence between Farrah Berrou who wrote Letter One last week and myself. I’ll be writing parts 2, 4, and 6. The best way to follow this conversation is to subscribe to both Blue Metropolis and a’anab.
Links will be added as the letters get published: letter 1, letter 2, letter 3, letter 4, letter 5, and letter 6. A final recap post will be shared on May 31st.
Dear Farrah,
When I think of creativity I see mediums as tools; they are a means to an end. Anything I make starts with the fundamental question: what am I trying to say? Once I’m clear on what the message is, I then ask myself: what is the best way to say it? Is this message best communicated as a photograph? a painting? a piece of ceramic? a poem? an essay? Who around me is saying something similar? How can their work inspire me to respond to and amplify that same message? If Saloua Raouda Choucair’s work has you considering other mediums, why say no? Go for it. Give yourself the chance to find out if this tool could enrich your life. And if it doesn’t, no skill learned goes to waste. You’re right, it is important to know how to say no. Say no to anything that drains you or feels entirely uninteresting but don’t say no to things that spark excitement in you. Let the rabbit holes enrich your life. Fuck a “specialty.” Do it all.
On Saturday, I went to see a group exhibition in Brooklyn titled “Moving Towards Home.” Imagined as a continuation of a conversation started in 1989 in response to the First Intifada with the exhibition “Homeland: a Palestinian Quest,” this exhibition paired the works of artists from the first exhibition with works by artists working today with the same themes. The strength of this show lies in both thematic continuity but also getting to see how the conversation has evolved among the members Palestinian diaspora from different generations over the past thirty five years. They are all speaking to each other across time and space, and when put together each of their individual work creates a language and a framework in the grander discourse of liberation.
When you mention wishing for more expressed support, I relate. I’ve often wondered if I’m not just talking to myself here. But then I realize that this bug we’re suffering from is a symptom from a larger disease known as: capitalism. Online brownie points have us misconstruing value with shallow praise. And in the attention economy where every second of your day is mobilized by distraction, it’s hard to stay engaged. We owe it to ourselves to unlearn this type of conditioning and take a step back and assess how we fit into a much larger ecosystem. Fundamentally, the dissatisfaction we’re feeling is rooted in a need for community.
Last week I saw someone on twitter say something that managed to articulate a feeling I’ve been building towards. It went along the lines of: we owe each other everything, but no one person is obligated to grant you their affection, or their time. (Paraphrased) It might sound harsh, but I think it’s true. On a systemic level, we owe each other the world, and nothing less. On a personal level, none of us are here to coddle one another in our day-to-day or submit to each others' every single need and want. Especially not in a world that is becoming increasingly overstimulating, and violent beyond anything that we could’ve conceived. I like to use the example of oxygen masks on planes. You need to put your own mask on first in order to help others next to you. So what does community look like in this hellscape?
The concept of community in a place like America is warped, to an *almost* hopeless degree. In many cases, it consists of embittered people who as a result of not being given a seat at the table of their choice, resort to building another table altogether masquerading it as “community”, failing to realize that the point of revolutionary work is to render the concept of tables irrelevant. The point isn’t to reproduce the same structure that will inevitably somewhere down the line become exclusionary, rather it’s to rethink the concept of “space” as one that doesn’t have specific geo coordinates. In that sense, the Internet has the potential to be a great tool. The problem is trying to crack different social media platform’s algorithms setting you up for failure. I could be wrong about this prediction but I think that the coming years will see less of a focus on social media platforms in favor of a resurgence of blogs, newsletters, personal websites, maybe even forums where “the public” consists of smaller circles of people engaging in their respective niche interests.
My understanding of what a community should be is in perpetual flux. But here’s where I’ve arrived: A community is a space that fosters inspiration. A decentralized network with no central authority or figureheads. It’s as simple as people just doing stuff in public and letting momentum build on its own, watching others join their chorus until their voices are so loud, they’re impossible to ignore. This takes time. Occasionally, this can also mean teaming up with others for a shared goal. In my personal utopia, this infrastructure would include a mutual aid system that can support people’s endeavors and guarantee their basic needs without mimicking the manufactured meritocracy criteria —again, the point here is to move away from “tables— set-up by current granting institutions and prizes. As always, another world is possible, how we get there is a different conversation.
Yours,
Lara