I once met an artist who gave me a vision for why artists’ work is important in society overall. That was the start of my conviction that I was on the right track in life, and that there actually is a higher purpose to being a weird creative. His name is Mako Fujimura. At the talk he gave in Lancaster city several years ago, he told a story about the start of his artist career, when he had just gotten married and money was tight. One day, his wife came home with flowers. He got upset and said, “Why did you buy flowers when we barely have enough money to buy food?” She said, “We need to feed our souls, too.” He said that moment was an epiphany for the value of his work and what all artists contribute to the world.
We contribute beauty, which is food for the soul.
My own everyday life is surrounded by visual beauty, whether I’m researching it or creating it, so I can be desensitized. So I discover beauty not just with my eyes, but in my heart, through human connection and experience.
This is a big buildup to basically say, I spent an unplanned afternoon with my mom and sister, and it was life-giving. With my sister being both a busy CEO and pregnant, my mom and I have taken it on ourselves to make sure she eats and keeps from lifting heavy boxes. She normally has to pack up several coffee orders and take them to Mail Dock every day. So one afternoon, I hit a mental wall on a book spread I was working on. I decided to head to the coffee roastery and help with packing orders. I drove my sister, picked up our mom, and we dropped off all the boxes. Then I made sure they ate, so we got takeout and had a little picnic in the middle of the warehouse.
Where most people with normal jobs need to turn to the arts for beauty and inspiration, I need to get out into the “real world” to work with my hands, to run errands with people, and have conversations about mundane things. I know the American work ethic frowns on leaving work in the middle of the afternoon to help your pregnant sister, but it fed my soul. Sometimes it’s not a vase of flowers that does it for me, but a pile of chicken tenders with my mom and sister in a coffee warehouse.
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