Who Are We if Not Artists?

(I must first begin my post by making the obligatory, “I’m sorry I haven’t posted in awhile,” statement. I could make excuses but there really is no excuse for not making time for my personal writing. Writing for myself should take precedent over writing for clients, etc., but sometimes money wins out when it shouldn’t.)

About three weeks ago, I had an accident where I broke one of the fingers on my right hand, making my hand almost completely immobile. The pain was bad, but it wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was that I couldn’t write. My left hand, while it can complete the general functions required by such an appendage, is useless when it comes to tasks requiring extreme dexterity. Using a pen was obviously out of the question, although I was afforded a good chuckle upon examining my left-handed signature for my discharge papers. This same left-handed lack of adroitness also affected my ability to type. Because of my injury, I was unable to write for two weeks.

Before I continue, let me go ahead and ostentatiously throw myself into that rare breed known as artists. Forgive me if this declaration sounds pretentious, but my inability to write made me feel disabled. It was as though my reason for being was ripped away from me, leaving an inextricable hole that ached more than my fractured hand. Despite the pain, my injury taught me a valuable lesson about myself: I don’t know who I am if not a writer. I’m sure a psychologist would shake an analytical finger at me for such a statement, but I believe that any artist under similar circumstances would come to the same conclusion.

As artists, we learn to let go, bearing our souls in order to convey emotion and meaning, regardless of the medium. Whether one is a musician, writer, or painter, the internal process is the same; pouring out our feelings for the world to see requires a special, particular ability. I firmly believe that it is this process that defines us and on such a deep level. Our talents define our person-hood. Stripping them away consequently deprives us of our connection with ourselves; who are we if not artists?

3 thoughts on “Who Are We if Not Artists?

    • Hey Bumps! It’s great to hear from you. My hand is fine when it comes to typing — I can go all day without it aching anymore — but I’m still clumsy when it comes to writing with a pen.

      Love the comment, btw. You always make me smile 😀


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