Letters to the Editor
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Ah, rejection.
Yeah, I know, the LW is luckier than he thinks he is and all, but honestly, rejection and self-doubt effect even the most successful or brilliant among us. At least at times. And that includes all of the creative types writing these "What do you have to cry about?" letters. So what is a creative person to do? I've thought about it a lot and come to two basic conclusions:
A) No matter what kind of "art" you make-- paintings, poems, media instillations, etc., *someone* will like it. Good? Bad? Doesn't matter. Someone will like it. Someone else will hate it. Hopefully more of these people like it than not. Maybe they won't. That doesn't matter. You made what you made and if I or my friends or the Boston Museum or God or Random House or anyone else doesn't like it, then please feel free to tell us all to fuck off in capital letters. You should not ignore constructive criticism, of course, but acceptance by any museum or publisher is dictated by a very small number of individuals who may or may not share your tastes, who may or may not like you personally, who may or may not want to give "your" slot to a friend, who may or may not be more concerned about market forces than they are about your message/vision/spiritual communion with your audience. This type of acceptance is neither entirely subjective or objective; acceptance is by no means a guarantee that you are good.
B) What if your art really is bad? At least some of it? Who cares? You have a right-- yes, a right-- to make bad art. Everyone does. Part of that is the learning process. Part of that is just process. Do you love every story that Willa Cather ever wrote (or at least published)? Is everything Picasso ever painted brilliant? And if your idols are allowed to screw up, then why aren't you? And what you consider to be their worst work is probably beloved by others as some of their best. . . And do you even like Willa Cather at all? . . . .