Love: Not Just Black and White
You’re likely thinking, “Yeah yeah yeah, black and white, it’s your whole aesthetic, we get the point already”. Truthfully, I just couldn’t pass on an opportunity to keep things *on brand*. It’s who I am. There’s a quote, “I love myself, but I don’t like the way that I am” that’s been sitting with me for a while, and it feels particularly relevant now.
There’s a difference between loving yourself and liking yourself, and that tension is something I think a lot of us wrestle with. Loving yourself means embracing your history, your identity, and even just your day-to-day. Liking yourself? That’s harder. It can mean coming to terms with the way you move through the world, the way you are perceived by those around you, and the way you perceive yourself. So what do you do when you love what you create, but not always the person creating it? What happens when you pour yourself into your work, but feel like you still haven’t squeezed yourself dry? These questions aren’t meant to be wildly depressing, but I do find myself thinking about them more and more each day.
Art in the Midst of Chaos
Today, I’m thinking about love as resistance. Love of self, love of art, love of community. The world is rough right now—politically, socially, economically. When everything feels like it’s crumbling and/or burning, it can be incredibly hard to find the motivation to create, but this is exactly when we need art the most.
There’s something radical about the act of creation when you’re exhausted. Pop culture and classic art have always reflected back the struggles of their time—whether it’s Renaissance paintings commissioned in eras of upheaval or drag queens using humor as armor. In a way, art is proof of survival, a form of pushing forward when everything else is trying to hold you back.
Looking at the World, and at Each Other
I think about the Hozier lyric, “Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago.” Loving what you do can also mean loving the people who resonate with it, even from afar. Sometimes, seeing someone else step into their power reminds you of who you were—or who you want to become. This power is also why diversity and visibility in our leadership is so crucial, and why our communities grow stronger when we open our circles.
Maybe it’s just that time of year, but I’ve also been reflecting a lot on the idea of attraction, the variability of desirability, and the complicated ways we see ourselves. “Not being my type’s type” can be quite a lonely place to find yourself. That feeling of not being desired by the people you desire, or being on the outside looking in. But even more so, the idea of not being my own type. I can recognize beauty in others, in the art I create, but I don’t always recognize it in myself. And that’s okay. After all, I don’t have to date myself, but I do have to live with myself, which I find oddly comforting.
Moving Forward, Together
Now, more than ever, the world is not slowing down for us. To keep going, we have to hold onto community, to momentum, to action. I want to recognize that self-care can also include the understanding that you are a part of something bigger.
For me, that means making art again. I launched MoreMor because I wanted to curate something meaningful for myself, to build spaces of connection, identity, and exploration. And yet, I haven’t done much with it since. I’ve been trying to take care of the artist behind the art, but I’m finding it takes more time than I had originally thought.
Each day the sunlight lasts for a little bit longer, and I understand that I need to create again. To create is to love, and we all need to love a little bit more.