launch a secret rebellion from your sketchbook 🎨✨

why making art nobody sees might just save your soul (and maybe the world)

tl;dr: surprise, mi gente! this bonus post for all readers explores how creating beauty in the face of indifference isn't just art - it's a radical act of existence and possibly the key to our collective salvation.

as i wrestle with my own fears about finishing my album, i'm reminding us all that the act of creation itself is valuable, regardless of outcome. let me know in the comments what you think about creating beautiful things when nobody's watching!

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Photo by Dillon Wanner on Unsplash

hey mi gente,

"i want to make beautiful things even if nobody cares."

these words, posted on substack by the insightful

Mia McClain

, have been rattling around in my brain lately, like a marble in an empty tin can. it’s 1:12 am (pacific) for me right now as i write this, and it’s what i keep whispering to myself in the soft darkness of my room as i hunch over my laptop. this is something that maybe only a few people will read.

simple words, but damn if they don't encapsulate the exquisite agony and ecstasy of being a creator in this chaotic, oversaturated world of ours.

because let's face it – most of the time, nobody does care. we're all just shouting into the void, our creations mere whispers in the cacophony of the digital age. your meticulously crafted sonnet, my laboriously written essay, that guy's painstakingly detailed painting of dogs playing poker (no shade, homie) – they're all just droplets in an endless ocean of content.

and yet... we persist. we create. we pour our souls onto pages, canvases, and screens, often with no guarantee that a single soul will ever bear witness to our efforts.

why? it's clearly not for fame or fortune. (if that was the goal, we'd all be better off selling plasma or launching yet another cryptocurrency, let's be real.)

the philosophy of creating beautiful things

no, we create because there's something within us that demands expression. because the act of making beautiful things is, in itself, a kind of alchemy – transforming the lead of our mundane existence into gold.

it's like french philosopher albert camus wrote in "the myth of sisyphus" (yeah, we're getting existential up in here):

“the struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart.”

replace "the heights" with "beauty," and you've got the creator's credo.

creating is existing

creating in the face of indifference isn't just art – it's a radical act of existence. it's a middle finger to the absurdity of life, a rebellion against the ever-present threat of nihilism.

when we make beautiful things, regardless of who sees them, we're saying: "i am here. i exist. my perspective, my vision, my very being has value – even if i'm the only one who ever recognizes it."

it's like... you know how in old san juan, there are these beautiful cobblestone streets? each stone was laid by hand, centuries ago, by someone whose name we'll never know. and yet, their work still stands, still brings beauty to the world. that's what creating beautiful things is like.

A vibrantly colored picturesque cobblestone street of Old San Juan. Source: Photo by Nils Huenerfuerst on Unsplash.

our art might not change the entire landscape, but it adds texture, color, meaning to the world around us. it doesn't erase the potholes or the cracks, but it makes the journey more beautiful. and sometimes, that beauty is enough to make the whole damn trip worthwhile.

art & validation: the paradox of external approval

now, i can already hear some of y'all protesting. "but edgard," you say, "isn't art meant to be shared? isn't the whole point to communicate, to connect?"

and look, i feel you. the validation of an audience can be intoxicating. (trust me, i'm not immune to the dopamine hit of a like or a retweet.) but if we create solely for external validation, we're setting ourselves up for disappointment and creative paralysis.

because here's the beautiful, paradoxical truth: the less we care about whether anyone else cares, the more powerful our creations become.

when we create without the burden of others' expectations or the pressure of external validation, we're free to take risks. to be weird. to be completely, authentically ourselves.

it's like virginia woolf said:

"lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind."

making beautiful things in a world that often seems indifferent (or actively hostile) to beauty is an act of resilience. it's a way of insisting that meaning exists, that beauty matters, even in the face of a universe that can seem cold and uncaring.

it's like planting a garden in the ruins of a war-torn city. maybe no one else will ever see it. maybe it'll be trampled or paved over. but for a moment, you've added a bit of beauty to the world. you've transformed a small corner of reality with your vision.

and who knows? maybe someday, someone will stumble upon your creation and it'll be exactly what they needed in that moment. your words might be the lifeline that pulls someone back from the edge. your art might inspire someone else to start creating.

or… maybe not. and that's okay too.

because every time we create, we're expanding our capacity for beauty. we're developing our skills, refining our vision, and deepening our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. we become ourselves more fully with every word we write, every brush stroke we make, every note we play.

creating beauty amidst the chaos

in a world that often feels like it's teetering on the brink of disaster, making beautiful things is an act of hope. it's a way of imagining new possibilities, of insisting that beauty and meaning can exist even in the midst of chaos and suffering.

it's like adrienne maree brown writes in "pleasure activism" (if you haven't read it, get on that asap): "what we pay attention to grows." when we focus on creating beauty, we begin to see more beauty in the world around us. and in doing so, we just might change the world – even if nobody notices.

every great movement, every paradigm shift, every revolution – they all started with someone creating something beautiful, often in obscurity, often in the face of indifference or active opposition.

van gogh died thinking he was a failure, having sold only one painting in his lifetime. emily dickinson's poems weren't discovered until after her death. kafka asked for all his works to be burned (thank god max brod didn't listen).

but their creations endured, and they changed the world.

a call to create & a confession

so to all my fellow creators out there – whether you're a professional artist or someone who just scribbles poetry in the margins of your biology notes – keep making those beautiful things. keep pouring your heart and soul into your craft, even when it feels like no one's paying attention.

because your art matters. you matter. and the world needs more beauty in it, even if it doesn't always recognize or appreciate it.

now, this is the part where i confess: this one's been weighing on me, pressing against my ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight. you want to know the real reason why i've been pouring my heart and soul into this substack? why i've been clacking and clacking out essays at 2:48 am, tweaking sentences until my eyes burn? it's because i'm terrified of finishing my album.

from heartbreak to harmony: the birth of my first album, "to build and defend my happiness" 🎵💔

i'm paralyzed by the fear that i might be one of those poor souls from american idol who don't realize they can't sing! you know the ones – those unfortunate folks who become a schadenfreud-istic pastime for people. i'm terrified that the moment i release my music into the world, i'll be outed as talentless. that my lyrics will sound juvenile, my melodies cheap. that everything i've poured my heart into will be revealed as... well, shit.

it's a special kind of hell, this crippling self-doubt. it whispers in my ear every time i sit down at the piano, every time i pick up my guitar. "who do you think you are?" it hisses. "what makes you think you have anything worth saying?"

what do you plan to do?

talk about irony, huh? here i am, waxing poetic about the importance of creating even when nobody cares, all while being paralyzed by the fear that people will care – and that they'll hate what they hear.

but you know what? i'm done hiding. i'm done letting fear call the shots. because if there's one thing writing this substack has taught me, it's that the act of creation itself is valuable – regardless of the outcome.

so here’s what i say to you AND to me - hear this cry: create fiercely, create shamelessly, create with all the passion and pain and joy that makes you who you are. create as an act of love, of defiance, of hope.

create beautiful things, not because anyone else cares, but because you care. because you're alive, and that in itself is a beautiful, precious thing worthy of celebration.

in the words of mary oliver:

"tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

my answer? make beautiful things, come what may.

a promise to you & an ask

so here's my promise to you, mi gente: i'm going to finish this damn album. i'm going to face my fears, embrace the possibility of failure, and create anyway. because that's what we do, right? we make beautiful things, even when we're not sure they're beautiful, even when we're terrified they're not.

and here's where you come in. i need you to hold me accountable. hound me. hell, bully me if you have to. send me messages asking about the album. demand progress updates. be the external pressure i need to overcome my internal resistance.

because at the end of the day, whether this album turns out to be a masterpiece or a mess, at least it'll be mine. my creation, my beautiful thing, brought into the world despite every doubt and fear.

and isn't that what we've been talking about this whole time?

so here's to creating in the face of fear. here's to making beautiful things, even when we're not sure they're beautiful. here's to being brave enough to suck, to fail, to be laughed at – because the alternative is to never create at all.

now go forth and create something beautiful, mi gente. the world is waiting, whether it knows it or not.

con todo mi amor y la fuerza creativa del universo,

edgard 🎨✨

p.s. and hey, if you are out there caring about the beautiful things i'm trying to make – thank you. your support means the world. but even if you weren't here, i'd still be creating. because that's who i am, and i wouldn't have it any other way. after all, as my abuelo ricardo used to say (or maybe didn't, but let's pretend he did because it sounds cool): "el arte no es lo que haces, es lo que eres." art isn't what you do, it's who you are.

p.p.s. writing this piece has made me come up with the new title for my autobiography: “yes, i’m screaming into the void… but i don’t mind an audience.”