Living in Public

I often wonder how honest and open one needs to be with the world. To live in hiding, feels like a lie. Yet, thoughts and feelings are precious. Play-dough in the wrong hands. So, should they be guarded, or given away? Judiciously, or a free-for-all?

Artists find that their medium, whatever it may be, allows for the expression of this. They put it into their paintings, words, designs, music, and other assorted canvases.

Actors often share so much of themselves within their work that it can be crushingly painful to undergo. Some are willing to discuss this, even with television cameras that bring their inner-lives to millions of people. Others, are reclusive, unwilling to exhibit the emotions they opt to pour only into their work. Hence, protecting their humanity.

That, however, isn’t always an option. An actor’s words are written by someone else, even if their world of behavior isn’t. But those words allow them a measure of privacy, if they so choose.

A writer, the moment he turns introspective, allows strangers into the most precious places, the little corners of the heart that echo and ache.  To write with heart, means to open it, to share it.  There’s no room to hide. It’s not safe.

And what, I wonder, happens to someone who has no canvas?

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