Now, this is subjective, of course. But some threads seem to run through every true artist I’ve ever known or admired.
First, in a world overflowing with content creators, the artist remains committed to authentic expression. They resist the pull to create just for clicks, clout, or currency. While content creators often shape their output to meet algorithms and trends, the artist roots their work in integrity, whether it’s popular or not. They refuse to become a product, even when the world demands they brand themselves as one.
Secondly, the artist lives in deep relationship with their imagination. They’re constantly trying to understand how they feel, how their environment feels, and how it all fits. They see from multiple perspectives, challenging norms and redefining how we experience the world. In their eyes, even the mundane holds magic. They find pockets of wonder where others see routine. And while this energy is magnetic, it often lives quietly, shared mostly with their inner world or those close enough to understand.
Lastly, a true artist is empathetic, but not impressionable. They don’t conform to every ideology, nor do they shrink in the face of public scrutiny. Instead, they remain open, aware, and grounded. They use their empathy to channel emotion, contradiction, and complexity into something real. Their work reflects not just what they feel, but how they feel it. Even when they dwell in sorrow or chaos, they create from a place of presence, aware of what’s moving through them, not lost in it.
In that way, the artist is an alchemist. They turn experience into art. Conflict into color. Silence into sound. They make the unseen visible, and in doing so, help the world feel a little more honest, a little more human.
Clouds in my Tea,
I draw galaxies in steam—
Ordinary spells.
