Some relief...

I've had serious doubts about my ability to write well lately. I believe it's because I'm surrounded by people who exude excellence when it comes to the written word. I'm not fond of this feeling. But if it's for the sake of art, what makes writing "well?" The foremothers and forefathers of breaking the mold of perfection and propriety of the written word, would probably be rolling in their graves hearing me speak of writing "well". Because standards are just road blocks to the imagination. And propriety itself is really only there for me to antagonize. It's moments like this that remind me, that as long as I'm putting forth the best of me, it shouldn't matter what others believe of my work. The definition of art has changed over time. Some critics believe that without criticism, art cannot exist. Some believe that art is determined by the experience of the audience and not the motives of the creator. It has been questioned in history, whether the written word is considered art at all. The fact alone that we have many different perspectives on art makes me believe that art itself does not want to be restrictively defined. Nor does it need a societal purpose. Art should always be individually defined because it CAN be. It is constantly changing, because we, as individuals are constantly changing. The art that I supposedly produce right now, or don't according to some, is RELIEF spilled on a page.

So here's my relief.